She arrived at the barn and there was no one there, but she spotted Tru’s truck up at Pops’s house. She wanted to check on Pops, so she left her car and walked up the long lane.
The walk felt good. Back in Houston she’d jogged some and walked some. It cleared her mind and helped her work through answers to her letters as she walked and thought and prayed.
When she knocked on the back door, Solomon barked frantically and scratched at the floor of the doorway.
Maggie wasn’t sure if this was a good idea after all. Getting bitten on her second day was not in the plan.
She was seriously contemplating walking away when the door opened and Pops peered at her through the screen.
His eyes widened and he smiled. “Did you bring my pizza?”
Maggie blinked, and her heart clutched. He looked confused again. Then suddenly his brows dipped and he took a breath.
“No, you were here yesterday. You saved my puppy.”
Relief shot through her. “
Yes
. I was here yesterday.”
“You crawled under the bed.”
She laughed. “Yes. I did.”
“What’d you do a gall-dern thing like that for?” he asked. “A gal can get stuck doing that.”
His memory was good. She laughed. “Yes, she can.”
Solomon had stopped barking the moment he’d opened the door and sat on his haunches staring up at her. He trembled all over with excitement or fear while he assessed her. She figured he was trying to decide “bite her” or “don’t bite her.”
Taking a chance, Maggie bent down and held out her hand. She cringed and hoped she wasn’t about to make a return trip to the vet.
Solomon sniffed, his long nose crinkling and his dark eyes wary.
“You’re pretty brave, I’ll give you that,” Tru said, walking from somewhere behind Pops. Maggie jumped and yanked her hand back. Solomon jumped too. Startled by her movement, he tucked his tail and ran.
“Thanks a lot,” she said, keeping her voice even, not wanting to scare Pops like she had the dog.
“Didn’t mean to scare you. But you are brave.”
“Or dense.”
He chuckled. “Your words, not mine. But since Solomon hasn’t ever been known to bite before, you might be pushing your luck. I’d be cautious, if I were you.”
She crossed her arms and bit her tongue, deciding to move the conversation on. “I came for my lesson. But if you’re busy—”
“I’m ready. Pops, I’m teaching Maggie to ride.”
Pops flashed her Tru’s crooked smile and in that brief moment, she wondered how much like Tru he’d been when he’d been a young man.
“You have the look,” he observed, his momentarily keen eyes studying her, sharp and true before clouding.
“Maybe tomorrow you’ll come down and watch her,” said Tru.
Pops grinned bigger and motioned her inside. “I’ll show you.”
She glanced at Tru and he nodded, so she followed Pops into the den of the house. She stopped in the doorway, and her breath caught. Everywhere she looked, bronze trophies filled the space. They were beautiful—of man and horse hunkered down with a dodging calf in front of them. Walking over, she read a couple of the engraved plates on the trophies. They were from the American Quarter Horse Association.
“He’s very well respected in the AQHA,” Tru said.
“I see that. These are amazing.”
On the wall were large portraits of beautiful horses. Among them was an extraordinary pencil portrait of a man and a horse. She knew before she walked over and looked at it that this was Pops in his forties. He was strong and fit and just as she’d thought, he resembled Tru and Bo in a combined sort of way. She looked over at Pops, and he quirked a brow, his eyes mischievous. It gave him a rakish look, and she knew he’d been a flirt in his day.
She glanced over at Tru. He was watching her interact with his grandfather. What he was thinking?
He quirked a brow, mimicking Pops and she chuckled. They were one and the same.
That look reminded her that Tru Monahan had a reputation as a ladies’ man. She could see how. Her toes curled and tingled just looking at him.
She turned back to Pops. “These are amazing.”
“Me,” Pops said, and she could almost see his mind churning as he searched for the next words. In the end he gave a sheepish smile.
“Like I told you, Pops was a major player in his day.”
“I can see that. These were his horses?”
Pops walked over to one of three portraits and placed his hand on the chestnut horse in the picture. “Pep.”
He looked up adoringly at the horse, then at her. “He’s beautiful,” she said.
“Stardust’s grandfather. Stardust’s registered name is Stardust Peppy.”
She turned to Tru. “Really?”
He nodded. “Isn’t that right, Pops?” He glanced at Pops, who had come to stand beside him. Maggie saw amazing love in Tru’s eyes when he looked at his grandfather. And there was incredible grief there too. She’d seen it when he’d asked her to protect his grandfather’s dignity. What would it be like to have someone care for her like that?
She’d have loved to have had grandparents to love and dote on, but they’d been gone years, and even when they’d been alive, she hadn’t known them. Her mother was estranged from the family.
Pops looked thoughtful. “Yup. That’s right. Best horse ever. Smart.”
It was amazing to compare him yesterday with today, spouting coherent sentences. Her expression must have shown her surprise, because Tru gave her a sad half smile that seemed to say, “Yeah, he’s still with us sometimes.”
“You ready to go meet your destiny?” Tru asked, looking restless.
“That sounds kind of ominous.”
“Naw. It’s a good destiny.”
“Long as you’re still promising no broken bones.”
She told Pops good-bye. Then with Tru’s help, she managed to get Solomon to let her scratch him between the ears.
Outside, he took a deep breath, then climbed into his truck. She did the same and they drove in silence to the barn. She studied the horizon—safer than letting her gaze wander to Tru, especially since the inside of the truck suddenly felt as tight as a matchbox.
Finally Tru offered, “He has good days and bad days. Good weeks and bad weeks. You’ve met him on a bad week. The doc—not Doc Hallaway,” he clarified, like she might think he was taking his grandfather to see the town vet. That was obviously reserved for her. “His doctor is trying him on new medicine and it’s got him swinging from one end of the spectrum to the other. But he seemed better while we were in the den.”
“I thought so,” she agreed. “It must be hard for you, watching him.”
His jaw tensed. The edges of his eyes pinched. “You have no idea.”
They reached the barn. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too. But we move forward. It is what it is.”
She reached for the door handle. “There’s a saying . . . not every day is good, but every day has something good in it. Today is one of those days for Pops.”
He gave her a quick smile. “Yeah. It is.”
She opened her door and got out. He did the same.
“Am I going to brush Stardust again?” Maggie asked.
They were walking into the barn and he let her go past him at the wide entrance. The scents of hay and oats and horse filled the air, but of course her nose keyed into the totally male scent of Tru, woodsy and spicy and appealing as anything.
He was more relaxed this afternoon than he’d been that morning. Maybe he just wasn’t a morning person. “Nope that’s all done. Now you’re going to learn to saddle him.”
On Wednesday, as a much-needed bit of rain drizzled outside, Tru had the country station cranked up as he sanded the slender branch of a redbud tree that would become an armrest for the new chair he was working on. The knotty wood was beautiful and the golden tone showed the irregularities of the wood to perfection. It wasn’t the strongest wood, but it held a beauty that always drew him. Right now he wasn’t thinking much about the wood.
He was going to have to come to terms with what he was doing, and with how Maggie was affecting him. He would have to head toward the barn soon for their evening lesson, but right now, he just needed to unwind and try to get his head on right.
She was all he could think about.
All she had to do was walk into the barn and his pulse would race like he’d just started competing in a championship Quarter Horse event. The accidental brush of her hand, the look in her eyes . . . he sanded harder. Picking the wood up, he blew the dust particles off of it and then ran his fingers over it to check the smoothness. Instantly he thought of how soft Maggie’s skin was. He’d been trying to avoid touching her, but sometimes there just wasn’t a way around it.
“You sure are looking frazzled.”
Tru glanced over his shoulder and found Jarrod standing in the doorway of his shop. “Nope, just—”
“Frustrated,” Jarrod supplied.
Tru’s gaze narrowed. “Did you need something?”
Jarrod chuckled. “I must have hit a nerve. You’re wound up tighter than I’ve seen in a very long time. I got in around two this morning coming back from Amarillo. When I dropped the trailer off, I saw your lights were on. You having trouble sleeping?”
“What is with the twenty questions?”
“I’m just curious how this bet is affecting you, is all.”
“It’s driving me loco. How’s that for the truth?”
Jarrod came into the shop and propped a boot on the lower shelf of Tru’s workbench. “That disturbing.”
Tru didn’t want to talk about it. He hadn’t slept since Maggie arrived. Bo had asked him earlier if he’d been burning the midnight oil reading or something.
Tru snorted at that. Reading. Yeah, right.
Thinking about long blonde hair, translucent pale green eyes that sparkled like raindrops . . . and then there was the rest of her—Tru glanced at Jarrod. That was a good way to stop thinking about Maggie. His brother studied him with open speculation.
“Pops is pretty good today. He showed Maggie his trophies yesterday.” He decided to change the focus off of him. She’d come to see Pops. Pops liked her. He’d been in a fog before she’d arrived and then like magic, the fog cleared and there was his old Pops. The big flirt had shown off his trophy room. Tru smiled thinking about it.
“What did she think about his room?”
“She loved it.” Tru loved that room too. It made him proud just to enter it. Tru had always had a lot to live up to. Not that he ever felt that from Pops, but from the cutting world, yeah. And he’d wanted to. He wanted to make his Pops proud of him. Wanted to be the one to carry the torch down the path his grandfather had blazed.
“Do you think she’ll keep Pops out of the limelight like you asked her to?”
“I think so. Watching her interacting with him, I felt reassured. There was genuine interest on her face. She wasn’t just humoring him.”
She’d glanced at him as she studied the pencil portrait and he knew she was making the comparison. He and Bo resembled Pops in many ways, but he knew it was Jarrod who resembled Pops the most. Not only in looks but in nature.
She hadn’t seen his older brother yet, but when she did, she’d know exactly what Pops had been like as a younger man. There was a steeliness to Jarrod that Pops shared, a keenness in the eyes that even translated to that picture. Looking at his brother now, Tru’s heart ached for the way his grandfather had been. And all the more the determination to carry on his legacy burned hot inside of him.
“Did you need me for something?” he asked, as he went to turn off the radio.
“Nope, I was just coming to see Pops, and thought I’d check and see how you were holding up since I’ve been gone.”
Tru shrugged. “Let’s just say we’re making it.”
Fifteen minutes later, after Jarrod had left and he was waiting for Maggie in the stable, he knew it was far worse than “making it.” Instead of just getting through this deal, he’d started looking forward to seeing her and he was thinking that was a bad idea.
There was a liveliness in her step as she came toward him—as if she were floating. By the smile on her face, he knew she was in a good mood.
That was a good thing, seeing as he was planning on putting her on a horse today, he’d worried that she’d be a nervous wreck. This was really good for the riding aspect of the day—but seeing her smiling like that was a setback of major proportions.
“So, cowboy,” she said, her voice as perky as that of a kid in a candy store. “What’s in store for me tonight?”
“Tonight?” he asked numbly, as his gaze locked on the tantalizing smile on her full pink lips. Kissing came instantly to mind.
“Tru—” the sudden uncertainty in her tone was like a shot of cold water from an ice bucket.
He slammed his brows down in anger at his lack of self-control. He grunted, “You’re going to get in the saddle, that’s what.”
Her mouth fell open and then snapped shut. Finally, her brow crinkled cutely and she asked, “You’re sure I’m ready for that?”
“You’re ready.” His voice reflected the strain he was under. “You just don’t know it, yet. It’s time. We probably won’t start cutting lessons for a couple of weeks. Right now you just need to relax about getting your body snapped into pieces and try to enjoy getting the feel for the horse. You’re going to love it.” He focused on teaching. Not on Maggie.
“If you say so, but I’m really not athleti—”
“Stop putting yourself down, Maggie, and do this. Anyone can ride a horse. You may not become a world champion, but you can get enjoyment from being in the saddle. Trust me.” He’d stepped closer to her, realizing he wanted to boost her confidence even if she still didn’t trust him and he knew it.
He reached for her hand. Danger signals went ballistic in his head. “Come on, Maggie. I know you don’t, but I promise you can trust me on this, even if you don’t trust me on anything else.” She met his gaze as he squeezed her stiff hand.
“I’m trying. I really am. I-it isn’t as though I don’t want to trust you.”
That got his attention. Her fear was real, no doubt about it whatsoever now. Her pupils dilated in wide eyes as she took a shaky breath; those things couldn’t be faked. “What can I do to help you trust me?”
She looked away, but let her hand stay limply in his. He squeezed gently. “Is this just about you being mad at me about the interview? I thought at Pops’s yesterday you might have started to let that slide some.”