To Protect His Own. Brenda Mott
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Название: To Protect His Own

Автор: Brenda Mott

Издательство: HarperCollins

Жанр: Современные любовные романы

Серия:

isbn: 9781472026392

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ is not the point anyway,” Caitlin said. “Red Fire is gentle and trustworthy. Bombproof. Child-proof.” She shrugged. “He’d never purposely do anything to hurt his rider.”

      “I was thinking more along the lines of short and gentle.”

      “I don’t want a pony,” Hallie said.

      “There are plenty of good horses under fifteen hands, Hal,” Alex replied. But he felt himself weakening, even as he tried to stand firm. He’d do just about anything to keep her happy.

      “I think I know a way to make you feel better about this,” Caitlin said. She motioned. “Come on. I’ll show you something.”

      She led them to the sprawling, ranch-style house that stood centered on emerald-green landscaped grounds, with a marble fountain in front and creatively sculpted hedges. A stone walkway led to a massive, brick-trimmed porch. The front door opened before they mounted the stairs.

      The dark-haired woman he’d seen that day at Pearl’s Diner flashed a welcome smile at him and Hallie. “Hello, there,” she said. “I see you made it over to visit our horses.” She held out her hand. “Caitlin and Dillon have told us all about you.”

      “Alex, meet my mother, Evelyn. Mom, Alex Hunter and his daughter, Hallie.”

      “Your mother? Whoa.” Alex flashed Evelyn a grin, unable to stop himself. “I thought you were Caitlin’s sister.”

      Her laugh was full and genuine. “Oh, I like him already.” She winked at her daughter. “Come in, come in. Hallie, how are you, dear?” Evelyn held the door wide, welcoming them into a foyer that could’ve swallowed his and Hallie’s living room.

      Alex tried not to stare, but he couldn’t help taking in the curved, sweeping staircase that dominated the far end. Photos of jumping horses lined the wall along it, and at the top of the staircase, overlooking the foyer, was a portrait of a young, blue-eyed woman and an elegant steel-dust-gray Thoroughbred.

      Caitlin caught him staring. “That’s Gran,” she said, indicating the portrait, “and her all-time favorite show jumper, Iron Sword.”

      “If your grandmother looks that young,” Alex said, “then I assume that’s the Fountain of Youth I saw in the yard.”

      She laughed. “It’s Gran when she was fifteen.”

      “Speaking of which, I’m off to meet her for lunch and to look at a stallion,” Evelyn said, glancing at her watch. She kissed Caitlin firmly on the cheek. “I’ll see you later, honey. Bye, Hallie. It was nice to meet you, and you, too, Alex.”

      “Likewise.” He nodded, but Hallie was too enthralled by her surroundings to answer.

      “Wow!” She spun in a circle, looking up at the vast ceiling…the chandelier overhead. “Why do you live in that old farm when you could live here?”

      “Hallie!” Alex felt his face warm, but Caitlin only laughed.

      “I have my reasons. Come on, let me show you why I brought you in here.” Alex followed her across a floor polished to such a high shine it looked wet. Caitlin opened a set of double oak doors, and they stepped into a sitting room, a den…a library?

      He had no idea what the proper term would be. But bookshelves lined two walls, and over a marble fireplace in the third wall hung yet another portrait of a Thoroughbred. Trophies stood displayed on the mantel, the bookshelves and in three glass-fronted cabinets, representing jumping and Lord knew what other equestrian events. They ranged in size from modest to monstrous. And ribbons decorated yet another display case in shades of red, blue and violet.

      Made the team-penning trophy buckle he’d won as a kid look puny.

      From a drawer in a massive oak desk, Caitlin pulled out a scrapbook and sank onto a leather sofa. “Have a seat.” She indicated the couch on either side of her, then spread the book open on her lap. Alex sat beside her, fully aware of how close she was. She smelled wonderful, her skin scented with something subtle and sweet. He focused on the scrapbook.

      On the first page was an eight-by-ten photo of a girl on a chestnut horse. “This is me and Red Fire at our first show. I was ten and he was four.” Caitlin tapped the yellow medallion-shaped ribbon on the opposite page. “We took third place in pole bending, and had a pretty darned fast time going on the barrels until I knocked one over.” She grimaced. “Five-second penalty.”

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