Helen Brenna - Her Sure Thing

“And you won’t find him in that house, either.”

She spun around. “Who do you think you are?”

“I told you. Sean Griffin. And that happens to be my house now.” He cocked his head at her. “I’m the new owner of Mirabelle Stables and Livery.” If she hadn’t been so high and mighty, he might’ve cleared that up at the onset.

She looked away and shook her head. “Of course, Arlo would eventually retire.” Then she glared at him. “You could’ve told me you’re the new owner of this place.”

“You could’ve been less presumptuous.”

“Look. I just talked to Arlo on the phone a couple of days ago. He didn’t say anything about not owning the stables and told me it’d be fine to board Louie here.”

“Well, you talked to the wrong person.”

“So what am I supposed to do?” she huffed, putting a hand on her hip. “Louie flew here from L.A. I can’t send him—”

“Well, I’ll be.” The sound of the man’s voice cut through their discussion like a bucket of water on a campfire. Arlo. Back from lunch. “Is that little Gracie Andersen?”

Grace glanced down the drive and a smile immediately spread across her face like the big old morning sun rising over Lake Superior. “Arlo. It’s so good to see you.” She held out her hand. “How have you been?”

“Gettin’ old.” He ignored her hand and pulled her into his arms for a quick but tight hug. “Other than that, I can’t complain. I see you met Sean.”

“I did.” Her mouth turned down in a frown—or was it a pout?—but Arlo was already sizing up Louie.

“Nice horse you got here,” he said. “So whaddya think, Sean? Where we going to put him?”

Sean had accepted he’d lost this battle the moment Grace had said she’d already talked to Arlo, but he couldn’t very well let Arlo think he was still making all the decisions around here. “We’re not putting him anywhere, Arlo. We don’t board horses, remember?”

“I boarded Boss for you.” Arlo nodded at the bay next to Sean.

“That’s different,” Sean said. “I asked you before I brought him to the island, and back then you were the owner.”

“We can make an exception for Grace, don’t you think?”

Sean didn’t have much of a choice now, did he? He knew all he needed to know about running a trail riding operation from all the summers he’d spent in high school and college working on ranches in Montana and Wyoming. He knew virtually nothing, however, about repairing carriages and training draft horses. For that, he needed Arlo, and Arlo knew it.

“You should’ve talked to me, Arlo,” Sean said. “This isn’t your business any longer.”

Exasperated, Grace let go a puff of air. “That’s just—”

Arlo squeezed her hand, sending her the clear message to let him take the lead.

“But I—”

He tugged a little harder.

Clearly, with extreme effort, she clenched her jaw closed.

“Heck, Sean,” Arlo went on. “I didn’t think it’d be a problem. Besides, you might be the new owner, but you put me in charge of the livery operations. Doesn’t that put me in charge of the livery barns and paddocks?”

Sean shook his head and chuckled. Then he glanced at Grace. “How long did you say you were going to be here on Mirabelle?”

“Just for the summer.”

“That’s a long time.” He glanced at Arlo. “You sure you have enough room for another horse?”

“Ayep. That I do. A Friesian will fit in nicely with the Percheron and Hackneys.”

“All right.” Sean fixed his gaze on her. “But you’re responsible for him. Feeding him. Exercising him. The whole nine yards.”

“That was my intention all along.” Then she forced out through gritted teeth, “Thank you.”

Arlo winked at her. “Grace, you look almost as tired as Louie. Why don’t you go on home and rest a bit?” he offered. “I’ll just put him in a stall, and you can come back later.”

Sean narrowed his gaze at Arlo, but kept his mouth shut. What game was the old man playing?

“Thanks, Arlo, but I can handle it,” she said. “Just tell me what stall he’ll be using and I’ll get him settled.”

“Whatever you say.” Arlo pointed to the barn farthest away from them. “It’s that last barn over there. Put him in the first empty stall on the left. He’ll have a nice run out the back, and we’ll keep him segregated for a few weeks until he’s used to things around here.”

“Will do. If you need anything from me—” she pointed to the blue Colonial she was renting “—that’s where I’m staying.”

“We know,” Sean said.

“Of course. I almost forgot this is Mirabelle.” She turned and led Louie across the yard.

Sean studied her as she walked away. He might’ve become the new owner of Mirabelle Stable and Livery, but he was still the island’s only doctor, part-time though the position might be. The doctor in him observed and quickly went about diagnosing her stiff gait. She was either in pain or extremely tense, very likely both. Possible back or hip problems. Probably had something to do with the car accident he’d heard about.

The man in him, on the other hand, couldn’t help but focus in on those long, slender legs and that perfectly rounded butt encased in skin-tight jeans. Or that long mass of blond hair trailing all the way down her back in natural-looking waves. The woman was perfection incarnate.

“Isn’t she something?” Arlo said, the moment she moved out of earshot.

Sean had almost forgotten the old man was standing next to him. “Yeah, something.” Gorgeous and aloof topped with an attitude the size of the Chequamegon National Forest, he had two words for Grace Kahill. High and maintenance. He turned toward Arlo and frowned. “The next time you want to do an old friend a favor, check with me first.”

“Ah, heck. What would’ve been the point?” Arlo laughed. “I knew you wouldn’t go for boarding her horse.”

“Yet you agreed anyway?”

“Always did have a soft spot for Gracie. She worked for me for years. Hard worker, too. Besides, I wanted to see that Friesian of hers. He’s a beaut, isn’t he?”

As he watched the horse and its owner disappear into the barn, Sean ran his hands along his own bay’s muzzle. Boss had been the first horse Sean had ever owned, and the day he’d arrived on Mirabelle had been one of Sean’s happiest. He’d take his no-nonsense Arabian anyday over a high-strung dandy. “Her horse is gorgeous. I’ll give him that. But he’s a bit like his owner, isn’t he?”

“She said he’s well trained.”

Time would tell.

Arlo patted the bay’s neck. “I’d appreciate it, son, if you wouldn’t be too hard on her.”

When the two of them were alone, Arlo had a tendency to refer to Sean as son. The old man probably wasn’t even aware of his use of the endearment, but it meant something to Sean. “Hard on her? In what way?”

“I saw the way you were eyeing her. As if she’s like every other woman you knew growing up out in California. Bitchy. Demanding. What do they call them? Divas?” Arlo brushed the bay’s shoulder. “Grace is none of those things.”

That wasn’t all Sean had been thinking about as he’d been sizing up Grace, but he sure wasn’t going to enlighten Arlo anytime soon.

“Growing up the pastor’s daughter wasn’t the easiest thing here on Mirabelle,” Arlo went on. “Especially not for a young one as feisty as Grace.”

“Feisty? That what you call it?”

“Keep an open mind. That’s all I ask.”

“Sure. As long as you remember you don’t own this operation anymore. Deal?”

“Deal.” Arlo patted Sean’s horse and grinned. “Now that I think about it…you and Grace. You never know. You two might hit it off—”