Heartbreak Cove (Sanctuary Island) (RE8) (7 page)

“Maybe you’re the one keeping me on my feet,” Sam said roughly. There was something gut-wrenchingly sexy about a woman who was tall enough to look him in the eye.

The tension between them crystallized, fragile and sharp and unbearably sweet. Sam breathed her warm breath and savored the firm curves of her body mere inches away. His heart kicked against his ribcage. He officially didn’t care that this was a terrible idea. He was going to kiss her.

Except Andie planted her hand in the center of his chest and stopped him. “Wait a second,” she said, looking around frantically. “Where’s Caitlin?”

Chapter Six

Andie had never been so grateful for the training that allowed her to leap from Unwillingly Yet Undeniably Aroused to Crisis Mode.

“She can’t have gone far,” Sam pointed out, striding over to the barn doors to peer out at the front paddocks.

“Caitlin?” Andie called. She jogged down the wide barn hall to the opposite set of doors, but there was no sign of her niece on the sloped hill leading down to the training rings. “Are you hiding? Come on out, sweetie, I promise I’m not mad.”

She and Sam met back in the middle of the barn. He shook his head, mouth a thin line. Andie wondered if he was really that worried about Caitlin or if he was just annoyed that her disappearance had interrupted their little … whatever it was, back there.

His next words made Andie feel bad that she’d ever questioned Sam’s motives. “She’s not out front, unless she’s climbed a tree or something. Let me check with Jo and Taylor in the office—maybe they saw something.”

“I can’t believe I lost her,” Andie said, her throat tight. “I haven’t even had her for a full twenty-four hours.”

Sam paused at the office door. “You haven’t lost her,” he said firmly. “She’s just … misplaced at the moment. Don’t worry, we’ll get her back if we have to take this barn apart, board by board, and comb through every haystack. Caitlin’s a little bigger than a needle—we’ll find her.”

Before Andie could do more than register the kindness lighting his deep brown eyes, a soft noise from the stall behind her had her whirling in place.

Most of Windy Corner’s horse stalls were generously sized boxes, enclosed on all sides and with a heavy sliding door onto the main barn hall. But the stall Sam strode toward was more of a pen situated between two stalls, closed off from the hall with only a couple of vertical bars. To enter it, he had to lift the top bar and step over the bottom, which he did with the smooth grace of practice.

Andie’s heart jumped into her throat at the realization that all Caitlin would’ve had to do to get into the stall was to duck between the bars. Rushing to peer over the chest-high wall, Andie saw her worst fears confirmed.

Caitlin crouched in the far back corner of the stall, staring up at Queenie, the half-wild black horse Sam had brought to the island the day before.

The horse that had been so unruly and threatening, someone had called the sheriff for help.

And that horse was between Sam and Caitlin.

*   *   *

Every muscle in Sam’s body wanted to tense, but he forced himself to relax. Queenie was already worked up enough, with the rescue and the ferry ride and a new barn. Sam couldn’t afford to add any more stress to the situation.

From the corner of the stall, the little girl piped up. “The horse isn’t hurting me. I’m not afraid.”

Sam’s heart rate slowed. “That’s good. Caitlin, right? You’re doing great.”

“The horse likes me,” the kid said, like she was trying to convince herself.

Her high, clear voice was a new sensory input for Queenie, who’d never spent a lot of time around kids. That could’ve made the mare nervous—but instead, she seemed intrigued. Every word out of Caitlin’s mouth had her cocking long, sensitive ears in the kid’s direction.

“Caitlin, honey,” Andie said, strained. “Come on out of there. Just edge around the side of the stall toward Sam, he’ll help you.”

“No. Don’t want to.” Caitlin planted her sneakers into the sawdust bedding that covered the floor of the stall.

Sam couldn’t tell if Caitlin was afraid to move or just being stubborn, but either way, he said, “That’s fine. You’re good right there, sweetheart. Stay put.”

Sam held up a warning hand to Andie before she could argue. He shook his head at her, keeping one eye on the tense mare. Andie’s fingers clenched on the stall barrier like she wanted to vault over it and sweep Caitlin out of harm’s way by force, but she gave Sam a reluctant nod.

Grateful that she at least trusted that he knew more about horses and barn safety than she did, Sam reached a slow, calm hand and settled it on the horse’s black rump. Queenie sidestepped jerkily, craning her neck back to see Sam.

“Queenie is okay, for the moment,” Sam told Andie quietly, “but if anything happens to spook her, we could be in real trouble.”

“If anything happens—like a door slamming or a car backfiring?” Andie asked.

“Or sudden movements close by her head,” Sam told her. He heard Andie suck in a breath and gave in to the urge to comfort her. “Don’t worry, I’ll get Caitlin.”

“Be careful.” Andie was so intent, so worried, that Sam risked a glance in her direction. His gaze snagged on hers and an electric current arced between them, sharp and hot. Andie’s cheeks washed with red and she lifted her chin. “I mean, be careful with Caitlin. And thanks.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Sam ran his hand firmly and gently along Queenie’s quivering side as he walked slowly up to the horse’s head. Combing his fingers up the tangled crest of Queenie’s coarse, black mane, Sam murmured subvocal reassurances to the traumatized animal. And all the time, he inched closer to the skinny redheaded girl in the corner of the big stall.

Caitlin watched him coming, standing unnaturally still. Sam couldn’t remember ever seeing a kid her age who wasn’t in constant motion, energy practically exploding from every pore. But Andie’s niece was like a little statue. She kept giving Sam wary glances, but most of her attention was on the horse standing over her. From her vantage point of four-feet-and-change, Queenie must look gigantic. Caitlin didn’t seem afraid of the mare, though. In fact, the kid seemed more nervous about the human adult approaching her than she did about the very real possibility of getting trampled by a rampaging horse.

Sam thought he recognized the type. He was one himself. Keeping his right hand working on untangling Queenie’s mane with slow, careful tugs, Sam grinned down at Caitlin. “So, you like horses, huh?”

Caitlin shrugged but never took her eyes off Queenie’s soft nose as the mare lowered her head and shuddered in appreciation of Sam’s scratching fingers. He ran his hands up Queenie’s ears, paying particular attention to the pressure points at the tips, and watched as Caitlin’s gaze followed his petting movements as if she were imagining her own hands running over Queenie’s inky dark coat.

“I can tell you’ve got horse fever,” Sam said, teasing a little. “It’s not usually dangerous but it can result in the patient having an uncontrollable desire to get close to any horse in the vicinity.”

“Not just any horse.” Caitlin immediately pressed her lips together like she regretted speaking up, but Sam gave her an encouraging smile.

“Queenie is special,” he agreed.

“She’s perfect.” Intense and fierce, in that moment Caitlin sounded exactly like her aunt.

“She will be,” Sam told her. “But we’ll have some work to do, to get her there.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“See, she’s been treated badly by the people who were supposed to take care of her, and it’s made her jumpy around people. But with time and patience, I guarantee, she’ll be your best friend if you let her.”

Caitlin’s eyes lit up and for the first time, Sam realized they were the exact same ocean blue as Andie’s. “Can I pet her?”

“It’s good that you asked,” Sam said, letting his approval show loud and clear. The girl blossomed under it like a sunflower lifting its heavy head to the sky. “Smart. And since you’re smart enough to ask, and smart enough to see how special Queenie is…”

Sam reached out his left hand and, after a short hesitation, Caitlin put her much smaller hand in his and let him guide her to stroke slowly over the white star on Queenie’s forehead. Her forelock feathered down over their fingers, making Caitlin’s bright smile appear for a brief instant, like the flicker of light on a fish’s tail as it turned to swim into deeper waters.

Queenie snorted, her warm breath and whiskery muzzle nosing equally at Sam’s belly and Caitlin’s shoulder. The little girl turned big eyes up to Sam, wonder and joy illuminating her pale face; Sam couldn’t help smiling back. “You ready to get out of here now?”

Caitlin pulled free of his grasp with a scowl. She shook her head, mouth going tight and stubborn, but Sam had her number now. He knew what to bribe her with.

“How about if I promise you can help me with Queenie’s training? And when she’s ready, you’ll be the first one to ride her.”

Caitlin’s face shuttered, wary skepticism arching her brows in an expression far too mature for her young face. “I’ve never been on a horse before, ever.”

“Then I guess we’ll have to train you at the same time as we train Queenie, so you’ll be ready for each other. What do you say?”

She didn’t say anything, just watched him with narrowed eyes. Sam didn’t waste his breath trying to convince her that he was on the level. He waited patiently to see if she’d come to him on her own.

But when she finally spoke, Sam wasn’t prepared for her question.

“Are you a friend of my dad’s?”

Sam blinked. “Uh, no. Sorry, I’ve never met the man. But I’m a friend of your aunt’s.”

The word “friend” might not be the best way to describe Sam and Andie’s situation, but he wasn’t about to explain the complicated layers of interest, attraction, suspicion, and deception that truly characterized the connection between them. Especially since Sam barely understood it himself.

Caitlin sighed, apparently not all that reassured. Seemed weird to Sam, but maybe they hadn’t spent much time together, or maybe that was normal. How would he know? His experiences of family life had been pretty sporadic and, for the most part, bad. At least that had been true of the family he’d been born into. It was funny how those earliest lessons stuck with a person.

From outside of the barn came the growl of an engine and the crunch of tires coming up the gravel driveway. Queenie went stiff, every sinew straining, her ears swiveling to take in any sound that might spell a threat.

They were out of time. Sam couldn’t take the chance that whoever it was would slam their door and send Queenie into a spinning, kicking frenzy. One blow of her flailing hooves, and Caitlin could be seriously injured.

“Time’s up,” he told her. “You gonna take my deal or not?”

“I guess.” Caitlin shrugged, more tense than he’d seen her yet. It was as if she felt that by agreeing to Sam’s terms, she’d given him some kind of power over her—and to minimize the danger, she was determined to pretend she didn’t care whether or not he came through.

Which told Sam that someone in Caitlin’s young life had made promises they couldn’t deliver on. More than once. And now Caitlin would literally rather get trampled by a wild animal than admit she’d gotten her hopes up.

Sam closed his eyes against the memories sucking at him like quicksand, but he didn’t struggle under their weight. Struggling would only sink him faster. Instead, he faced the images that surged to the front of his mind calmly, without fear, and let them pass away back into the darkness where they belonged.

He blinked his eyes open and held out his hand once more. “You’ve got no reason to trust me. I can’t force you to believe in my promise, and I know what it’s like to feel like you can’t trust anyone. Like you’re on your own. But if you want to learn to ride—if you want to ride this horse, you’re going to have to work with me. You’re going to have to trust me at least enough to do what I say. And here’s your first test.”

She stared at him steadily, giving nothing away, and Sam had to admire her poise. “What do I have to do?”

“Follow me out of this stall. Step where I step, don’t wave your arms around, and don’t dawdle. Got it?”

Caitlin gave a short nod, her reddish-orange brows furrowing in concentration. Sam turned back toward the stall door, moving smoothly and quickly, keeping his ears open for the sound of her light footsteps behind him.

There. Caitlin was following him. Sam felt a slow smile break across his face just as he looked up and saw Andie’s worried face. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, her lips almost colorless, and freckles standing out on her milky skin like flecks of cinnamon.

Andie mouthed “Thank you” at Sam, and his heart swelled. He guided Caitlin forward to squeeze between the horizontal bars of the stall barrier, keeping his body between her and the twitchy mare. In seconds, they were both out of the stall safely.

Turning back from making sure the bars were securely in place, Sam saw the awkward, aborted gesture Andie made toward hugging her niece, and the way Caitlin stepped aside. Andie caught him looking and her mouth twisted in bleak recognition. “So not only are you a horse whisperer—you’re a kid whisperer too?”

“Caitlin and I reached an understanding,” Sam told her. “She stays safe—which means, she stays out of Queenie’s stall, or any horse’s stall when there’s no adult around—and I’ll teach her to ride.”

“Oh!” Andie glanced swiftly back and forth between Sam and her niece. “I couldn’t ask you to take the time to do that.”

“You didn’t ask. I’m offering. And anyway, this deal has nothing to do with you, it’s between me and my new student. Right, Caitlin?”

“Shake on it.” Caitlin stuck out her hand, all defiant and serious, as if she didn’t really believe Sam would.

When Sam gripped her cold, thin fingers and shook once, firmly, Caitlin’s eyes went wide. Sam grinned down at her, then used the hand he was holding to tow her across the hall to the tack room.

The smell of worn leather was thick in the air, and Caitlin stared openmouthed at the racks of saddles lining three walls. Sam tugged her past them and over to the back wall where a dusty full-length mirror leaned in the corner.

Standing her in front of the mirror, Sam twisted to heft a green plastic trunk over to Caitlin. He flipped the lid, releasing a puff of dirt, and showed her the pile of black velvet riding helmets inside.

“There oughta be one that fits you. Root around till you find it, I’m going to go talk to your aunt for a second.”

Caitlin shot him a suspicious glance out of the corner of her eyes, as if she knew very well he wanted a few minutes alone with Andie and she was ninety-nine percent sure he wouldn’t be coming back.