Читать книгу To Protect His Own - Brenda Mott - Страница 11

PANCAKES. Alex made them every Saturday, yet he couldn’t remember having enjoyed them so much in a long while. He wondered if his pleasure had anything to do with watching Caitlin’s face as she closed her eyes and savored a bite of maple syrup-covered, made-from-scratch hotcake.

“Mmm, these are delicious.” She opened her eyes and looked at him, smiling. “I don’t normally eat such a heavy breakfast, but this is wonderful.” She helped herself to a fourth slice of bacon. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Dad cooks pancakes all the time,” Hallie said, heaping another serving onto her plate. “I love them.”

“You’d better slow down,” Alex said with a chuckle. “Or we’ll have to roll you out the door.”

Hallie gave him a mock grimace, swallowing a mouthful. “How many horses do you own, Caitlin?”

“Foxwood Farms has about thirty or forty head at any given time, depending on how many foals we’ve got. But personally, I’ve got three. Silver Fox is my grand prix show jumper, then I’ve got Black Knight—my hunter—and my retired gymkhana gelding, Red Fire. He was my first, and he’s a quarter horse/Thoroughbred cross.”

Hallie’s brows lifted. “You used to do gymkhana?”

“Uh-huh. Barrel racing, pole bending, scurry jump. It was the scurry jump event that gave me the bug to want to become a show jumper. That and watching those classy jumpers at the Denver National Western Stock Show.”

Hallie’s eyes widened even more. “Dad used to take me to the stock show every year. I love watching the jumpers. And the barrel racers.” Her animation made Alex’s heart soar. “I want to barrel race soooo bad. Dad says he’ll buy me a horse, now that we live in the country. But first we have to fix up the barn.”

“Really?” Caitlin paused. “If you’re serious, Alex, why don’t you bring Hallie out to Foxwood Farms to look at what we have for sale.”

“Actually, your brother already suggested that. But I’m not so sure a Foxwood Thoroughbred’s in my budget.” He smiled, his face warm.

Caitlin’s chuckle filled him with a pleasant heat. “You might be surprised. Not everything on the place is six figures, or even five.”

“Thank goodness,” Alex said. “I’d hate to have to take out a second mortgage to afford a horse for my kid.”

“Dad makes good money,” Hallie spoke up proudly.

“Hallie!”

“Well, you do.” She shrugged unapologetically.

“What do you do for a living?” Caitlin asked, her curiosity more obvious than her tone of voice let on.

For some reason that pleased him. “I design video games.”

“Not violent ones,” Hallie said.

Her words hurt. “I used to,” he said quietly. “But not anymore.” He exchanged a pointed look with Caitlin.

“Yeah, now he just designs boring games rated E for everyone,” Hallie said. “But he still makes good money.”

Not as much as he’d made in Denver, now that he worked out of his house. But the money didn’t matter. His daughter’s happiness and safety were all he cared about.

“Good enough to buy a horse?” Caitlin teased.

“Yeah, I think so.” He grinned, cutting into another pancake.

“So when can we go look at them?” Hallie practically jumped up and down in her chair.

Suddenly, Caitlin’s smile faded, and Alex felt her playful banter wilt like a deflated balloon. “I’ll call Dillon and make arrangements for you to see the horses.”

Hallie frowned. “Why can’t you take us?”

“Hallie,” Alex reprimanded, “don’t be rude.”

“It’s okay,” Caitlin said, looking at Hallie. “I’m not sure I’m up to showing you around. Your dad can bring you out to the ranch this afternoon though, and we’ll see. How does that sound?”

“Cool!” Hallie’s face immediately brightened.

Caitlin glanced at her watch. “Speaking of which, I’d better head home. Mom is going to pick me up in a half hour.” She grimaced. “I can’t drive yet.”

“I see.” Alex could only imagine how her limitations must frustrate her. “What time would you like me to bring Hallie out?”

“How does one o’clock sound?” Caitlin reached for the pen in the center of the table near the salt and pepper shakers. “If you’ve got a piece of paper handy, I’ll give you directions. It’s easy to find—about three miles from here.”

“If it’s that big ol’ place with the wrought iron gates and white rail fences, I already know where it is.”

She blushed. “That would be it.”

“Okay, then. I’ll see you at one.”

ALEX’S PALMS began to sweat as he neared Foxwood Farms. What was he doing here? Caitlin Kramer’s horses were obviously way out of his league, and now that he really thought about it, so was she. He had no business pretending he could afford a horse from such a highbrow ranch. But he hadn’t wanted to disappoint Hallie, and he figured the outing would do her good. If nothing else, she’d have a fun afternoon looking at all the horses, and then he would suggest they shop somewhere else.

Maybe Caitlin would point him in the direction of a horse breeder more within his budget. He grimaced, the thought just as sour in his mind as he knew the words would taste in his mouth. It wasn’t that he was trying to keep up with the Joneses. It was more a matter of wishing it was within his power to give Hallie whatever she wanted. He didn’t want to spoil her. He just wanted to shower her with love and anything that would make her happy.

“Daddy, look!” In her excitement, Hallie called him by the term of endearment she’d claimed to have outgrown some time ago. “Look at all the colts!” She pointed out the window at the mares and foals, grazing in a postcard-perfect expanse of green grass behind white fencing. Some of the foals played and bucked. Others nursed or nibbled grass alongside the mares, fuzzy tails flicking.

The sight brought back memories of his palomino mare, Goldie, and the buckskin colt she’d had the summer he was thirteen. He’d had to sell it when he and his mother moved to Denver.

Alex stopped in front of the set of wrought iron, electronic gates. He pressed the security buzzer and spoke to Caitlin through the speaker, then pulled his truck through the gates as they whirred open. Hallie was out of the pickup before it had even come to a complete stop.

Caitlin greeted them from the front porch. “Hi. Are you ready to look at some horses, Hallie?”

“You bet! Your foals are so cute.”

“Thanks. We can take a closer look at them, too, if you want.”

“All right.” Hallie dogged Caitlin’s heels as she made her way toward the paddocks, leaning heavily on her cane.

Suddenly, it occurred to Alex that maybe she was more exhausted from her physical therapy than she wanted to admit. But then, he supposed she would’ve had Dillon show them around if that were so.

She led them on a mini tour of the ranch, driving them in a golf cart. “This is about the only motorized thing I’ve been behind the wheel of lately,” she said. “But I suppose it’s a start.” After petting the foals, they went with her to the main barn. “Want to meet Red Fire and Black Knight?” she asked.

“Sure.” Hallie nodded, her ponytail bobbing.

Alex was in awe of the entire setup. Everywhere he looked were signs of immense wealth. Stable hands, exercise riders…high-dollar equipment of every sort imaginable, including a trio of electronic hot walkers outside the barn. He followed Hallie and Caitlin into the spacious barn. On either side of the aisle were rows of stalls with adjoining paddocks. Caitlin led them to one near the center of the building. Inside stood a huge black horse, probably a good sixteen and a half hands high, Alex guessed.

“This is Black Knight,” Caitlin said. “He’s eight.” She stroked the gelding’s neck as he leaned over the stall door.

The big horse lowered his muzzle toward Hallie as she tentatively stepped closer and ran her fingertips over the star on his forehead. “He’s huge!”

Caitlin chuckled. “Yes, he is—sixteen-point-three hands.” She moved to the next stall and spoke to the chestnut inside.

While this one wasn’t nearly as big as Black Knight, he was still a good size—about fifteen and a half hands. Alex definitely had something smaller in mind for Hallie.

“And this is Red Fire,” Caitlin said, her affection for the horse obvious in her voice. She cradled his head in her hands as he nuzzled her. “I’ve had him since he was four. He was my first speed-event horse outside of the Welsh ponies I rode early on. He’s seventeen…still in his prime.”

Hallie stroked the chestnut’s nose. “You’re a pretty boy, aren’t you?” she cooed.

“Actually, horses can reach their thirties,” Caitlin said, “given the right care and a little luck.”

“I know, I’ve been reading a lot,” Hallie said.

“That’s a good thing. Knowledge is power.” She grinned, and Alex’s heart raced.

God, she was beautiful. “So, how old were you when you got Red Fire?” he asked, hoping the question sounded casual, as though he were wondering if she’d been near Hallie’s age.

“Not much younger than Hallie,” she said. Her impish grin told him she was on to him. “I was ten, and I’ve had him for almost fourteen years. So that would make me twenty-four.” She widened her eyes at him. “Not the child you thought I was.”

He felt his face heat. “You are compared to my decrepit thirty.”

She laughed. “Hardly.”

Then she turned to Hallie as though realizing she was flirting with him in front of his daughter. No. It was more than that. Her entire attitude and body posture suddenly changed, as though she’d become abruptly aware of…what?

“So where are the horses that are for sale?” Hallie asked.

“We’ve got some in the barn, some out on pasture,” Caitlin said. She hesitated, and Alex frowned. Maybe she was finally realizing her horses were out of his price range. The thought irritated him.

“You can show us the horses,” he said. “I might not have enough to buy something for six figures, but I am capable of paying for a quality animal for my daughter.” He hoped. Lord, what if he’d just put his foot in his mouth but good? If she called his bluff…

He kept his poker face in place. To his annoyance, Caitlin seemed amused.

“I wasn’t implying anything to the contrary,” she said. “I was thinking that Red Fire is just standing here going to waste. I mean, he gets exercised regularly, but he’s happiest performing in the arena, aren’t you, boy?” She cupped the gelding’s jaw between her hands and planted a kiss on his muzzle.

Alex shivered. Her hands looked so soft. She had slim, delicate fingers and creamy skin, and somehow his mind was on something else, not horses.

“You mean you’d sell him?” Hallie asked eagerly.

“No, I couldn’t part with him,” Caitlin said. “But I could loan him to you.”

“Really?” Hallie’s eyes were round with anticipation.

“If it’s all right with your dad.”

“Whoa, hold on.” Alex held up his hand, glancing at the horse. “He’s awfully big.”

“Dad, he’s perfect.” Hallie bobbed up and down, waving her arms.

He hadn’t seen her this enthusiastic, this happy in ages. He wavered.

“He’s fifteen-two,” Caitlin said. “Smaller than any other horse on this ranch.”

“I’m familiar with how to measure a horse,” Alex said, feeling like a fool for not realizing the Kramers would only have big horses. He was used to quarter horses, which averaged about fifteen hands.

“Sorry.” She smirked.

“And fifteen-two is tall,” he went on.

Caitlin shrugged. “I guess I’m used to sixteen-plus jumpers.”

“He’s perfect, Dad,” Hallie repeated, eyes sparkling. She reached once more to stroke the chestnut’s blaze. “And he’s already trained for barrel racing.”

“Size is not the point anyway,” Caitlin said. “Red Fire is gentle and trustworthy. Bombproof. Child-proof.” She shrugged. “He’d never purposely do anything to hurt his rider.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of short and gentle.”

“I don’t want a pony,” Hallie said.

“There are plenty of good horses under fifteen hands, Hal,” Alex replied. But he felt himself weakening, even as he tried to stand firm. He’d do just about anything to keep her happy.

“I think I know a way to make you feel better about this,” Caitlin said. She motioned. “Come on. I’ll show you something.”

She led them to the sprawling, ranch-style house that stood centered on emerald-green landscaped grounds, with a marble fountain in front and creatively sculpted hedges. A stone walkway led to a massive, brick-trimmed porch. The front door opened before they mounted the stairs.

The dark-haired woman he’d seen that day at Pearl’s Diner flashed a welcome smile at him and Hallie. “Hello, there,” she said. “I see you made it over to visit our horses.” She held out her hand. “Caitlin and Dillon have told us all about you.”

“Alex, meet my mother, Evelyn. Mom, Alex Hunter and his daughter, Hallie.”

“Your mother? Whoa.” Alex flashed Evelyn a grin, unable to stop himself. “I thought you were Caitlin’s sister.”

Her laugh was full and genuine. “Oh, I like him already.” She winked at her daughter. “Come in, come in. Hallie, how are you, dear?” Evelyn held the door wide, welcoming them into a foyer that could’ve swallowed his and Hallie’s living room.

Alex tried not to stare, but he couldn’t help taking in the curved, sweeping staircase that dominated the far end. Photos of jumping horses lined the wall along it, and at the top of the staircase, overlooking the foyer, was a portrait of a young, blue-eyed woman and an elegant steel-dust-gray Thoroughbred.

Caitlin caught him staring. “That’s Gran,” she said, indicating the portrait, “and her all-time favorite show jumper, Iron Sword.”

“If your grandmother looks that young,” Alex said, “then I assume that’s the Fountain of Youth I saw in the yard.”

She laughed. “It’s Gran when she was fifteen.”

“Speaking of which, I’m off to meet her for lunch and to look at a stallion,” Evelyn said, glancing at her watch. She kissed Caitlin firmly on the cheek. “I’ll see you later, honey. Bye, Hallie. It was nice to meet you, and you, too, Alex.”

“Likewise.” He nodded, but Hallie was too enthralled by her surroundings to answer.

“Wow!” She spun in a circle, looking up at the vast ceiling…the chandelier overhead. “Why do you live in that old farm when you could live here?”

“Hallie!” Alex felt his face warm, but Caitlin only laughed.

“I have my reasons. Come on, let me show you why I brought you in here.” Alex followed her across a floor polished to such a high shine it looked wet. Caitlin opened a set of double oak doors, and they stepped into a sitting room, a den…a library?

He had no idea what the proper term would be. But bookshelves lined two walls, and over a marble fireplace in the third wall hung yet another portrait of a Thoroughbred. Trophies stood displayed on the mantel, the bookshelves and in three glass-fronted cabinets, representing jumping and Lord knew what other equestrian events. They ranged in size from modest to monstrous. And ribbons decorated yet another display case in shades of red, blue and violet.

Made the team-penning trophy buckle he’d won as a kid look puny.

From a drawer in a massive oak desk, Caitlin pulled out a scrapbook and sank onto a leather sofa. “Have a seat.” She indicated the couch on either side of her, then spread the book open on her lap. Alex sat beside her, fully aware of how close she was. She smelled wonderful, her skin scented with something subtle and sweet. He focused on the scrapbook.

On the first page was an eight-by-ten photo of a girl on a chestnut horse. “This is me and Red Fire at our first show. I was ten and he was four.” Caitlin tapped the yellow medallion-shaped ribbon on the opposite page. “We took third place in pole bending, and had a pretty darned fast time going on the barrels until I knocked one over.” She grimaced. “Five-second penalty.”