Sharon Dunn - Top Secret Identity

She gazed at him, her dark brown eyes holding a world of mystery. She rubbed her lower back and winced. “That ice pack sounds really nice right now.” She wore her long dark hair in a ponytail. Her cheeks flushed with color—maybe from the cold, maybe from the scare she’d just had.

They walked through the stable and out into the darkness. Only two windows in the guesthouse glowed with golden light. It was a weekday, so they only had one guest. On the weekends, all six rooms were usually full. Clients who lived in the city drove up and stayed for two or three days of riding. They were two hours outside of Des Moines in Iowa farmland. The Stables boarded horses and owned some to provide lessons. Alex’s favorite part of his job was the therapeutic riding program for disabled and underprivileged children.

Morgan and Alex walked side by side onto the expansive porch of the guesthouse. He led her through an open sitting room furnished with leather couches and rough pine end tables into a large kitchen. Only he and Morgan lived on the property. He had private quarters in the guesthouse and she had the caretaker’s cottage. Mrs. Stovall, who supervised the cooking for guests and cleaning of the rooms, drove in from Kirkwood, a tiny town five miles up the road. She hung up her apron promptly at seven every night.

Morgan glanced around the kitchen while he put a kettle on. “This is really homey.”

He detected emotion in her voice, longing perhaps. After grabbing an ice pack from the freezer, he turned to face her. “Oh, does it remind you of a kitchen you grew up in?”

Her face blanched and she looked off to the side. “No, I just think it looks very...welcoming.” Her tone was defensive.

Even that tiny bit of probing about her past scared her. She exuded confidence around the horses, but in many ways she was like a frightened little bird. What was she hiding? Everything else about her seemed honest and forthright. But still, there was a guarded quality to their interaction, as if she’d built walls around herself.

He set two mugs on the counter and pulled out the tea bags. “Mrs. Stovall’s rules remain even when she’s not here. We have access to everything in the kitchen, but we have to clean up after ourselves, same as the guests.”

She picked up the tea bag and placed it in her cup and then pressed the ice pack against the small of her back. “Understood. I get the impression she runs a pretty tight ship.”

They then talked a little more about the horses. The kettle whistled. Alex poured the steaming liquid over her tea bag and pushed the sugar dish in her direction across the counter. He watched her stir in the sugar, the metal of the spoon tinkling against the inside of the mug. Once again, he was struck by her beauty, the wide brown eyes and thick eyelashes, her swanlike neck.

But it was that look of vulnerability in those eyes that had won him over. There was no guile in her. That’s why her secretiveness confused him. Was she running from an abusive boyfriend or husband?

She gazed at him over the top of the mug.

She was a horse that needed to be wooed. If she trusted him, maybe she’d open up to him. What could he talk about that wouldn’t make her retreat? “Tomorrow the kids from Reach Out will be here for their therapeutic riding session.”

Her eyes grew wide as though a realization had come to her. “Oh, yes, tomorrow. I saw that on the schedule.”

“You should be able to handle it. We’ll have five children here with varied ability levels. Each one has an aide or family member to help. I’ll come out and introduce you to everyone.”

“I’m looking forward to it. I like working with children.”

“So you’ve done something like this before?” He’d blurted the question without thinking.

Her reaction was more subtle this time, though he could tell the question upset her. Her round eyes narrowed, and she placed her cup back on the counter. “Let’s just say that I’ve always loved children and wanted to protect them.” She angled away from him. “It’s late, Alex. I should be getting back to the cottage.” She placed the ice pack on the counter, too. She turned on her heels. He listened to the echo of her footsteps across the wooden floor of the lounge.

Feeling frustrated, Alex poured out Morgan’s half-full cup of tea and washed the mugs. Maybe it wasn’t an abusive boyfriend. She might be hiding from the law. He didn’t want to believe that Morgan was involved in anything shady. But he didn’t want to be a chump, either...not again.

He’d had enough lies in his life. His ex-wife had cheated on him for a year with his best friend before filing for divorce. Though he’d voiced suspicions, he’d believed Gretchen when she had said there was nothing going on. The deception had left a hole in his heart that would never mend.

He needed someone to deal with the day-to-day care of the horses so he could focus on the financial and promotional end of running The Stables. Plus, the Waverly Horse sale was in two days. He’d need her help picking out and hauling a horse.

Clearly, Morgan could do this job. As qualified as she was, though, he had zero tolerance for someone who couldn’t be forthright with him.

TWO

Morgan glanced over at the redheaded boy staring at the ground and then at his mother, a woman of about forty.

“His name is Richie. This is his first time riding. I’m Adele.” The mom gave away her nervousness with the wringing of her hands.

In the morning when she felt safe leaving the cottage to get a cell phone signal, Morgan had left a message with Brendan O’Toole, her contact at the marshals’ regional office in Des Moines. Even with all the doors and windows locked she’d had a restless night’s sleep. Though her nerves were on edge from the incident last night, she didn’t want to leave Alex high and dry. She’d swallowed her fear, gotten dressed and gone out to do her job. The marshals would get this cleared up soon enough and move her. She felt pretty sure nothing was going to happen to her in the daylight with all these people around.

The other four children in the therapeutic riding class were already being led around the riding arena on their horses.

Hoping to ease Adele’s fears, Morgan turned to face the boy. “Richie, you’re going to have a great time.”

Richie angled his body away from her.

“He has autism. He can’t talk, but he understands every word you say to him.” Adele patted the horse’s neck. “I used to ride all the time when I was a girl. I hope he loves it as much as I did.”

“I’m glad to hear you have some experience.” Morgan studied Richie, who continued to look at the ground. “How about if we get used to the horse?”

Adele took Richie’s hand and pulled him toward the horse that Morgan had already saddled. “Richie, this is Miss Smith, and she’s going to help you learn to ride.”

Richie nodded but didn’t make eye contact. He tugged on his shirt collar.

“Richie, meet George. He’s very gentle.” Using slow movements, Morgan took Richie’s hand and laid it flat on George’s neck. She moved his hand up and down. George angled his head toward Richie and sniggered. “He likes you.”

Richie grinned. Adele stepped in closer and stroked George’s nose.

In her peripheral vision, Morgan noticed a dark SUV pulling up in the lot. Two people, a man and woman, got out of the car. Morgan tensed. What were Serena Summers and Josh McCall from the St. Louis Marshal’s office doing here? They couldn’t have gotten the message from the Des Moines office and made the long drive that fast. But, now that they were here, she could talk to them about being moved.

“Miss Smith, what’s the next step?” Adele’s voice pulled Morgan from her anxious thoughts.