Summer Nights (Fool's Gold #8)

He’d also seen her with Khatar. One rule on any ranch was when a person couldn’t get along with horses or dogs, he or she wasn’t worth having around. The difficult Arabian had become a gentle, easy mount because of Annabelle. He was still the brave leader of the herd—his desire to protect Annabelle had proven that. But whatever had caused him to be vicious was gone. Just last week, he’d slipped out of his corral to be with the girls during their lesson. He’d walked around with them, the fifth horse in the procession, following the steps perfectly.

Annabelle had given herself in so many ways. Helping Heidi with the wedding, offering to take care of the goats. She’d helped him with his house. She’d been a good friend and a generous lover. She put herself on the line—personally, professionally, sexually. When Lewis had shown up, she’d been completely honest about what had happened.

He missed her. Seeing her, talking to her, touching her. He’d wanted to call, to check on her, but hadn’t been able to make himself pick up the phone. Last night at dinner, Heidi had mentioned she was completely recovered and he’d been relieved.

A familiar car drove into the yard and parked by the barn. Shane took a step toward the vehicle, both surprised and gratified she’d shown up. They were supposed to have one more practice before the parade on Saturday. He wasn’t sure he would see her, or even if it was okay for her to ride.

He hurried toward her, needing to hear her voice. Even if all she did was to tell him to stay the hell away from her. Then the passenger door opened and Charlie got out. The other woman’s expression was hard and determined. Obviously Annabelle had told her friend everything. Charlie wasn’t here to watch the practice, she was going to act as a buffer. To make sure Shane didn’t hurt Annabelle anymore.

Then it didn’t matter because Annabelle was walking toward him and she was all he could see. She wore jeans and boots, and a T-shirt that teased “Research This!” She was all curves and sex appeal. A thinking man’s perfect 10.

Except the smile he adored was missing and her eyes were sad. She looked as if she’d lost a part of herself, as if something precious had been stolen. Pain twisted in his belly when he realized he was the thief in question.

“I want to run through the steps one more time,” she told him. “Charlie will be with me, so you don’t have to stay.”

A dismissal, which he deserved, he told himself. “Are you all right?” he asked. “Are you feeling well enough to ride?”

She shrugged. “I’m still sore, but it’s not bad. I saw my doctor yesterday and she cleared me to practice and ride in the parade. We do everything at a walk, so that’s safe. I’ll hang on with both hands for the big finish. It’s fine. Khatar would never hurt me.”

The last words were spoken with a defiant lift of her chin.

“I know he wouldn’t,” he told her, then glanced past her to where Charlie stood guard. “Can I talk to you later?”

“Sure. Maybe after the parade.”

He wanted to tell her he was sorry he’d hurt her, but knew the words were feeble and insulting. Not meaning to hurt her didn’t make the pain any better.

Khatar came trotting around the barn. Shane wasn’t even surprised.

“I’ll get him saddled,” he said.

“That’s okay. Charlie can do it. Khatar likes her, too.”

Then Annabelle deliberately turned her back on him and walked to the horse. Shane watched her go and knew that he’d just lost something important. Something he could never replace.

Not knowing what else to do, he started for the house. As he walked up the stairs to the back porch, Clay stepped out of the house.

“Is Annabelle here?” his brother asked. “She called and wanted to know if I could practice with her. For the ceremony on Saturday.”

Clay kept talking, but Shane was too busy charging him to listen. He bent at the waist and slammed his shoulder hard into his brother’s midsection. Momentum drove them back.

Shane straightened, already swinging. Clay dodged both fists, slapping Shane’s arm away when he got too close. Shane knew his brother was holding back and it pissed him off.

“Fight back,” he demanded.

“Not happening. You do remember I’ve been studying martial arts for ten years, right? If I hit you, I’m going to break something.”

“Cheap talk,” Shane growled.

Without warning, Clay’s booted left foot shoved against Shane’s middle. The power of the push had Shane falling to the porch and sliding a few feet backward. Before he could figure out what was happening, Clay was on top of him, one fist lightly pressing against his chest, the other threatening to cut off air at his throat.

“Want to see the black belt?” Clay asked coolly.

Shane was still busy trying to get air into his lungs from the kick. Clay drew back, grabbed a hand and pulled Shane into a sitting position. Then he dropped down to the porch and stared at his brother.

“You’re not mad at me,” Clay said. “You’re mad at yourself. Because you’re a jackass.”

Shane concentrated on breathing. It was easier than facing the truth.

“She cares about you,” Clay continued. “We can all see it. What’s stopping you? Rachel? How long are you going to let her keep winning?”

His brother’s words sank in. Shane knew he was right about everything. It was easier to worry that Annabelle was like his ex-wife than to face the truth.