Chapter One #3
“I surrendered the horse,” she said as a cigarette dangled from her mouth. “I’m sure Roy told you.”
“Yes, ma’am, he did. I’d like to hear your version.” Case watched her put the cigarette out in an ashtray sitting on the porch rail.
“Rachel, Roy’s daughter from his first marriage…
well, we had a big argument about that damn horse.
It’s bitten me once before and when it did the last ti me, I’d had enough.
It was always trying to bite me. I told her to sell it or I’d take it to the equine rescue.
” She shrugged as if it were an everyday occurrence for her.
“And you, personally took the horse to the sanctuary?”
“Yes, I know how to load a horse and pull a trailer.”
“What happened when she found out?”
“Another argument, then she packed her bags and left. She’s never come back for a visit She won’t talk to her father now, though he had nothing to do with it.”
“Alright. I’ll be around after I speak with your stepdaughter.”
“Sure.” The woman shrugged again, then entered the house, slamming the door behind her.
Something didn’t sit right with Case, but he needed to talk to the daughter before digging any deeper.
****
Sydney guided her SUV up the curved driveway, its engine purring to a quiet stop.
She killed the ignition, unclicked her seatbelt, and swung open the door.
A warm breeze drifted over the front lawn, carrying the scent of freshly cut grass.
She tucked her hair behind one ear and smiled, thinking of her lunch with Paige, laughter over salads, the clink of iced tea glasses, and the easy comfort of an old friend.
Paige’s lingerie shop, with its rows of satin and lace, had quickly become more than a boutique; it was a wonderland of slinky dresses, and sky-high stilettos.
Sydney could lose herself in there for hours, trailing fingertips over silken thigh-highs and never feeling an ounce of guilt for every swish of her credit card.
With her new treasures tucked under one arm, Sydney climbed the stone steps to her front porch.
She unlocked the door, swung it wide, and padded across the hardwood floor, her bootheels clicking against the wood.
Entering the kitchen, she laid her shopping bags on the marble countertop, then filled a tall glass with ice and poured in sweet tea that glimmered amber in the late-afternoon light.
Carrying it into the living room, she sank into her deep-cushioned sofa, the plush pillows enveloping her.
As she breathed in the soft scent of vanilla candles on the coffee table, her thoughts drifted back to lunch, and to Nick.
He had breezed into Paige’s shop just as they returned, his eyes never leaving his wife’s face.
Every gesture he made was for her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, brushing her shoulder with a gentle hand.
Sydney longed for that fierce devotion, that unwavering passion that never dimmed.
She could almost taste it; candlelit dinners, stolen kisses in the rain, the thrill of knowing someone adored you completely.
Agent Caysen Anderson flickered in her mind, a tall, sexy mystery.
But she shook her head firmly. He would never risk entangling business with pleasure.
She reached for the remote and flicked on the TV, bright images splashing across the screen as she scrolled through movie channels.
The hum of the set provided a welcome distraction from her restlessness.
Days off were supposed to be relaxing, but today boredom settled on her like a heavy blanket.
Still, she held onto one hope, that Caysen and the Montana Department of Livestock would track down her missing horse .
She remembered the day she first laid eyes on the mare.
Visiting Melissa Beckett at MERAS, the equine sanctuary that her husband, Brayden, owned.
Sydney had been stopped in her tracks by the horse’s black, white, and brown coat and beautiful blue eyes.
After Melissa, who was also the veterinarian on the property, told her the horse was in good health, the decision was made.
Sydney signed the papers and adopted the mare.
Brayden had warned her that the people who surrendered her said she was a “mean-spirited” horse, but the mare nickered softly when Sydney approached the fence, nuzzled her shoulder, and stomped her hoof with patient eagerness.
Satin, she’d named her. Trick Dillon had agreed to train the horse, even though he was busier than ever.
Now Satin was gone. Sydney lifted her phone, thumb hovering over Trick’s name in her contacts. She then placed the call.
“Dillon,” he answered.
“Hey, Trick. It’s Sydney Wright.”
“Sydney. How are you?”
“My horse was stolen,” Sydney said, voice tight with frustration.
There was a pause. “Damn. I’m sorry.”
“MDOL’s on it, but I wanted you to know I won’t be bringing Satin by for training.” She managed a small laugh. “I didn’t want you wondering where I was.”
“I appreciate the heads-up. If she turns up and you still need me, just say the word.”
“Thanks, Trick. Say hi to Rayna for me.”
“I will. Take care.” He hung up.
Sydney set her phone on her lap and exhaled, scrolling through channels once more.
“Another gorgeous man who’s totally in love with his wife,” she murmured to the flickering TV, “and here I am, pining after a livestock agent who barely knows I exist.” She flipped again, lost in the search for anything to take her mind off Satin’s empty stall and the distant hope that Caysen Anderson would find her horse.