Chapter 4
CLAY
An hour later Clay was in the main stables saddling up Gertie. The building was long with a pitched roof housing ten roomy, straw-strewn bays – five each side, which were all empty now thanks to the trail ride that had left twenty minutes ago.
A wide central concrete thoroughfare separated the boxes, and terminated at the large sliding doors situated at each end. The doors were open, letting out the earthy smells of horse and manure and letting in streams of sunshine.
Clay was mentally lecturing himself as he sensed rather than heard the arrival of his one-on-one.
Smile, dude. Be nice.
Taking a beat to cinch the saddle strap tighter, he glanced over the horse’s back to find her standing in the middle of the open doorway, nothing but a shape wrapped in a halo of sunshine. The backlight transformed her outline into an anonymous neon angel even as it cast her face into shadow.
But the way his gut lurched? It couldn’t be anyone else.
She stepped forward, out of the sun’s reach, her stride hesitant as she took form and shape.
She was in jeans, he absently noticed, which put a tick in her column.
It seemed counterintuitive in such hot weather to be wearing jeans – too many of the trail riders this morning were in shorts – but full-leg denim would be protective of delicate skin should she end up on her ass.
Not that she would. Not on his watch, anyway.
As she continued slowly towards him, Clay noticed her wavy hair flowing out from the strictures of her hat to stream behind her, and he wondered if it would feel as good as it looked. If it smelled as good.
If it would look just as good wound around his fist.
Blinking that thought away, Clay’s gaze caught the swing of the fringe detailing around her shirt pockets and the rhinestones that decorated the side seams of her jeans.
Jesus…
‘Hi there.’
Clay’s brow furrowed at the welcome that had not come from Stephanie Everhart’s lips because he’d been watching her face intently and that delectable mouth hadn’t moved. Flicking his gaze to the side, her mother came into view, striding with much more purpose and confidence than her daughter.
Smile. Be nice.
‘Howdy,’ Clay said, rounding Gertie to greet the women.
The howdy earned him a huge smile. ‘You must be Clay.’ Cindy Everhart – yeah, he’d been googling – extended her hand as she drew to a stop. ‘I’m Cindy.’
Clay shook the proffered hand, impressed by the firmness as he murmured, ‘Ma’am.’
‘And this’ – Cindy gestured to her daughter – ‘is Stephanie.’
Extending his hand first, Clay said, ‘Nice to meet you.’ It was painfully polite but she was a guest and he was going to be professional if it killed him. He wouldn’t screw this up. He’d show his parents he could be a team player.
And then her hand slid into his and it felt like he’d been plugged into an electrical socket as their gazes met, her cool blue-grey eyes widening slightly as if she was feeling it too.
Her mouth parted slightly and, God help him, he couldn’t help but stare at the lush pillows and wonder how good it might be to kiss them.
‘Stephanie?’
She blinked then at the obvious prompt from her mother, which led Clay to believe they’d been staring at each other, hands clasped, for longer than was polite. ‘Likewise,’ she mumbled just as politely as her fingers slid from his, her eyes averting to the horse waiting patiently behind him.
‘Your father tells me you’re the best?’ Cindy said.
Clearly Cindy Everhart – Stephanie’s manager according to his research – didn’t believe in small talk. Clay allowed a ghost of a smile as he transferred his attention to Cindy. ‘Yes, ma’am.’
What was the point in modesty when it was the truth?
‘Are you any good at teaching, though? Being good at something doesn’t mean you can always teach it to someone else.’
Cindy was a straight taker, Clay liked that and he couldn’t agree more with her statement. But he’d taught plenty of people to ride over the years so he didn’t doubt his ability. ‘I’ve not had any complaints, ma’am.’
She nodded briskly as if satisfied. ‘Can she be ready in a month?’
Sliding his gaze sideward, Clay glanced at Stephanie, who was now looking around the stables, unconcerned that her mother was talking about her as if she wasn’t here.
‘If Stephanie’ – Clay sensed her gaze shift to his profile as if saying her name had cut through her wandering attention – ‘rides every day for the time she’s here, she should be reasonably comfortable in the saddle.
’ He glanced briefly in Stephanie’s direction, their gazes holding for a second that hummed like a livewire between them before he returned his attention to Cindy. ‘How well she rides will depend.’
‘She doesn’t need to be able to canter across the plains or anything. She just has to look like she knows what she’s doing.’
Clay nodded, keeping his gaze firmly trained on Cindy lest this very shrewd mama see how surprisingly eager he was to teach her daughter how to ride and whatever the fuck else she’d never learned in the city. Even though his wiser angels were still urging distance.
Like he’d ever listened to them…
‘I think we can manage that.’
Another brisk nod. ‘This the horse?’
Interrogation apparently over, Clay turned his attention to the animal standing patiently by.
‘This is Gertie.’ He absently petted the white stripe down her nose as he addressed Stephanie now in case she was apprehensive about her first ride.
‘She’s old and gentle. Very obedient and tolerant.
Very used to having beginners on her back. ’
Stephanie’s face softened as she reached out her hand to pet Gertie’s neck. ‘She’s gorgeous.’ Gertie’s head swung around a little as if to encourage Stephanie to pet some more and she obliged, moving closer. ‘You’re a beauty, aren’t you?’ she crooned.
Her voice was soft with an almost musical lilt to it, which earned her an appreciative snicker from Gertie. ‘She likes that,’ he murmured, and when her eyes met his and she smiled at him, Clay liked that – a helluva lot.
‘Okay, let’s get this show on the road, huh?’ Cindy’s businesslike tone was just what Clay needed right now. ‘You have a Zoom with that producer in just over an hour.’
Stephanie straightened, her fingers trailing away, and Clay wondered if Cindy was going to be hanging around like her daughter was two, not the twenty-two Google had reliably informed her to be.
‘We’ll move out to the yards,’ he said, taking Gertie’s reins and clicking his tongue.
The horse shuffled off obediently and they emerged into the sunshine as they made for the nearby yard where yesterday – God, was it only yesterday? – he’d first locked eyes with Stephanie Everhart.
‘I’ll stand outside the railing and take pictures. We can use them for your socials after the song’s out.’
Clay’s back molars clenched together at the thought he was going to be part of some performance but thankfully, Stephanie finally spoke up.
‘No way, Mom.’ It wasn’t said cantankerously or even with a challenge, just firmly then softened with a little self-deprecating laugh. ‘I’m probably going to end up on my butt before the session is through. No way are you taking pictures of that.’
‘You won’t end up on your butt.’
Clay felt the need to clarify. For a start, they weren’t idiots. They were hardly likely to put beginners on horses that had any history of being fractious. Not unless they wanted to get sued. And secondly, bucking somebody off was way too energetic for Gertie.
She was unimpressed when asked to trot.
But the lack of risk didn’t seem to matter to his one-on-one. ‘I don’t want anyone seeing me before I can actually ride a horse with some kind of competence, including you. I know you have a tonne of emails to catch up on, please just do that and I’ll come back to the cabin when I’m done.’
Clay blinked, reassessing Stephanie as she politely told her mom to get lost. From what he’d seen so far, Cindy was the driving force between the two of them but clearly, Rhinestone Cowgirl did have a backbone.
He’d mistakenly taken Stephanie’s placid demeanour for meekness, but he could tell now she was no pushover.
She was obviously just naturally reserved. Which didn’t seem to marry up with performing on a stage in front of thousands of people, but he’d read something once about a lot of artists being introverts.
Cindy glanced at her watch, ‘The Zoom is in—’
‘I know,’ Stephanie cut in, softening it with another smile. ‘I’ll be there, I promise.’
‘Okay.’ Cindy looked around uncertainly, as if she hadn’t expected to have this free time and she was unsure what to do next. ‘Take good care of my girl, Clay.’
Clay nodded. ‘Yes, ma’am.’ He’d take real good care.
For long silent moments, they watched her go before his one-on-one turned to him with an apologetic smile. ‘I’m sorry. She can be a bit…’
Over the top? Protective. Helicopter mom?
‘Intense.’
Clay smiled and shrugged. ‘That’s her job, I guess.’ Even if her daughter was a fully grown adult. But, he supposed, having lost one daughter, Cindy probably couldn’t help being overprotective.
Stephanie didn’t comment; she just petted Gertie and said, ‘So, where do we begin?’
He smiled again. ‘At the beginning. This, Stephanie’ – he gestured to Gertie – ‘is a horse.’
She laughed and it was like nothing he’d expected, full and bold, her blue-grey eyes sparkling purple, her cheeks dimpling.
Jesus – a man could do a lot of crazy things for a pair of dimples like that.
‘Please,’ she said after her laughter died, and she was looking at him with the corners of her mouth still a little upturned, the freckles on her nose severely distracting. ‘Call me Stevie. My friends call me Stevie.’
Stevie. It suited her, this woman with the bold laugh and dimples, and Clay was willing to take any inch she was prepared to give.
‘We gonna be friends, Stevie girl?’