Cathy Mcdavid - Aidan - Loyal Cowboy

“That’s right.”

Minutes ticked by, Ace wasn’t sure how many. From the corner of his eye he noticed a small crowd had gathered in front of the pen. A few of the louder comments reached his ears.

“Watch this. You ever seen Hart at work?”

“He’s got more nerve than me, climbing in with that brute.”

“What is he? Some kind of horse whisperer or something?”

Not exactly, Ace thought. But he did have a knack for reading animals, horses especially, and for getting them to trust him. Enough to earn himself a reputation around the state.

When he sensed the moment was right, he took a small, slow step forward. Midnight jerked his head, his gaze still fastened on Ace.

“There you go.”

Another small step, this one met with an angry snort and a head toss. No problem. As long as the horse didn’t show signs of charging him, Ace was okay.

“We’ll do this on your terms, buddy.”

Finally, Ace was close enough to touch the horse, though he hesitated.

“Good job,” he murmured softly.

Midnight’s breathing increased as he inhaled Ace’s scent, the fine whiskers of his velvety nose brushing Ace’s jacket sleeve. He was determined that the horse make the next move.

His patience, as usual, paid off.

Midnight sniffed Ace’s hand, drew back and sniffed again.

It was a small but vital victory for Ace. When he reached out to stroke Midnight’s neck, the horse flinched. He didn’t bolt or rear, however, and after several more long moments, allowed Ace to run a hand along his neck and chest, his hide twitching.

Sadness squeezed Ace’s heart. Neglect had scarred this magnificent animal. He just didn’t understand some people, which would explain why, other than his family, he’d spent much of his thirty-four years a loner.

His attention wandered, as did his gaze. Flynn had evidently concluded one chance meeting with him was enough, for she was nowhere in sight. When Ace looked back around, Midnight had retreated to his corner and had resumed glaring at people. Ace in particular.

Rather than antagonize the horse unnecessarily, Ace conducted the remainder of his examination visually. Skittish personality and weight loss aside, the horse appeared in reasonably good health. Ace had no reason to doubt the copy of the medical report, which hung on the pen railing along with Midnight’s registration papers.

Ace turned, his movements calm and measured. He was taking a big risk presenting his back to Midnight. He’d once met an old cowboy with a sizable chunk missing from his shoulder after just this sort of move. But Ace had to know for certain if Midnight was wary and not mean.

He walked unscathed to the gate and sighed quietly. On the other side, he paused to look at Midnight.

The horse bobbed his head.

Yeah, I agree. Ace grinned to himself, feeling as if he, too, had passed a test. You’re coming home to Thunder Ranch with me.

His mother wasn’t standing where he’d left her. Ace spotted her several feet away, conversing with his uncle Joshua and cousin Duke who’d accompanied Ace and his mother to the sale.

He’d barely started toward them when Flynn unexpectedly crossed his path. A jolt of alarm brought him to a halt.

“Hi,” he muttered, trying to move. The soft ground pulled at him, sucking his boots down into the muck. He was trapped.

Served him right.

She stared at him in silence, tendrils of corn-silk-yellow hair peeking out from under her cowboy hat.

Memories surfaced. Ace had sifted his hands through that hair, watched, mesmerized, as the soft strands coiled around his fingers like spun gold.

Then, not two hours later, he’d abruptly left her bedside, hurting her with his transparent excuses.

No longer calm and collected, she stared at him with the same pained expression she’d worn that morning.

“Flynn, I’m sorry,” he offered lamely.

“For what exactly?” She crossed her arms in front of her and glared at him through slitted blue eyes. “Slinking out of my room before my father discovered you spent the night, or acting like it never happened?”

* * *

FLYNN THOUGHT SHE’D READIED herself for their inevitable confrontation. All the phrases she’d used to bolster her defenses during the drive to the auction suddenly abandoned her, and she was once again an emotional weakling.

What had possessed her to sleep with him?

Easy. Ace had been her first love—unfortunately, a very one-sided first love. She’d invited him home, hoping to ignite that elusive spark with him at long last.

And she did.

For several hours his passion had burned brightly. Beautifully. Flynn had never been loved so intensely, so thoroughly. She’d told herself he must have genuine feelings for her, even if he didn’t acknowledge them.

Reality, unfortunately, had returned when the sun crested the horizon, its soft rays breaching the blinds of Flynn’s bedroom and vanquishing the cozy cocoon of night. Ace couldn’t get dressed fast enough or leave in a bigger hurry. He’d had horses to check at home. A morning surgery scheduled. Then there was the meeting at the bank.

Legitimate excuses, but why hadn’t he been able to look her in the face when he gave them? Or do more than kiss her forehead before escaping through the back door, sock-footed and boots in hand?

Because he hadn’t wanted to stay with her or make a commitment.

Flynn had heard it all before. From her ex-husband and now Ace. The two men were peas in a pod. Both married to their jobs, both using their jobs as an excuse not to spend time with her.

Damn her foolish heart for always picking the wrong kind of man.

She should walk away from Ace, leave him the way he’d left her.

Instead, she stayed, his expression rooting her in place. If she wasn’t still angry at him, she might have been swayed by the regret brimming in his incredibly dark brown eyes.

“Can we talk?” he asked. “I’d like to explain.”

“This I have to hear.”

“Not now, not here.” He glanced over his shoulder at the people milling nearby. “Later. Somewhere less crowded.”

That was exactly what had gotten her into bed with him, his suggestion they leave the Number 1 Diner and go somewhere more private to continue their conversation.

Flynn rediscovered the confidence she’d lost upon first spotting Ace. “No, I don’t think so.”

“You have every right to be angry with me,” he began slowly.

She cut him off. “Do you not own a calendar? You’ve had better than three weeks to explain. I’m either working at the emergency clinic or helping Dad with the horses. Finding me isn’t a problem. Heck, I live next door to you.”

“I’m a jerk.”

His admission didn’t soften her resolve. He’d wounded her when he hurried off that morning. Hurt her worse when he didn’t call or come see her.

And she’d have walked barefoot across broken glass before calling him. Been there, done that—back when they’d dated briefly in college.

“Aidan!” his mother hollered. “We’re heading over to inspect the mares and geldings.” She waved and smiled at Flynn. “Don’t be a stranger. Come to lunch the next time Dinah’s over.”

Flynn waved in return. “Thanks.” Her father and Ace’s father might not have liked each other, but Sarah Hart had always treated Flynn like a second daughter.

And Ace had treated her like another little sister.

A four-year age difference hadn’t helped. Not until she was in community college and he in vet school did he finally notice her as someone other than his sister Dinah’s school chum.

They’d been careful in those days, keeping their relationship a secret in order to avoid their respective fathers’ wrath. It was anyone’s guess where things might have led if John Hart hadn’t died and Ace’s world hadn’t crumbled.