All the King's Horses Read Online Free PDF Page A

who was good with animals was sexy in his own right, and that black cowboy hat was the icing on the cake.
    Then he’d turned around and faced us, and I’d pulled in a lungful of arid, summer air. He was scruffy and looked exhausted, but even his unshaven jaw and the circles under his eyes couldn’t undermine his leg-liquefying features. Just his blue eyes were enough to bring a few long-dead nerve endings tingling back to life.
    And now? Now I was following him around the property, and thank God John had already shown me the place because I only caught about half of what Dustin said as we walked. If there was one thing I hadn’t counted on when I came here, it was trying to work for someone who made me trip over my words and my feet.
    Oblivious to my distraction, Dustin went over some instructions as we walked through the corridors between pastures.
    “Any mare with a foal at her side goes in this pasture”—he gestured at the one on the left—“or the one at the bottom of the hill. We’ve made sure everything in there is extra safe for the babies, so I don’t like them in any other pasture until they’re at least a year or two.”
    “Good to know,” I said.
    “And foals who are being weaned don’t turn out at the same time as their dams,” he said. “Mares in the morning, foals in the afternoon. They don’t like it, but—”
    “But then they don’t see Mom and try to crash through the fence to join her. I know.”
    He glanced at me, either annoyed I’d cut him off or surprised I knew what he was talking about. “All right. Then let’s—”
    A squeal stopped him, and we looked to see two of the weanlings galloping toward us. Their mothers looked up. One went back to grazing while the other strolled after the babies.
    “Hey guys!” Dustin squatted by the fence and reached between the boards as the pair of foals skidded to clumsy halts in front of him. He scratched their fluffy necks, and one nuzzled his face with its long-whiskered nose while the other nibbled the brim of his black hat.
    “None of that,” he said, nudging the mouth away from his hat. “Be nice, you little brat.”
    The mare, a gentle-eyed bay with a wide blaze, put her head over the fence beside me, so I absently petted her as I watched Dustin playing with the youngsters.
    There was a time in my life when a pair of foals that age would have had me swooning and cooing. Now, I was keenly aware of the lack of that response, of the empty place in my chest where a swell of “aww, babies!” should have been. That the only warmth I felt at all besides the sun on my back was the mare’s body heat as I halfheartedly stroked her mostly white face.
    I glanced at Dustin, and even as he petted and scratched the babies, he was looking at me. And something in his eyes was…different. His expression had hardened. Even as he turned back toward the foals and laughed at one trying to chew on his sleeve, there was less feeling behind it. His eyes darted toward me, and the laughter faded away almost entirely.
    Something else caught attention of the foals, and they took off trotting. The mare jogged after them, nickering softly as they bucked and played.
    Dustin rose, throwing me an odd look. Then he adjusted his hat, and we kept walking between the pastures. “Watch some of the horses when you’re leading them out here.” Like his expression, his tone had changed. Cooled in favor of something I couldn’t quite put my finger on, and it stayed that way as he continued. “Some of them will try to take advantage if you’re not paying attention. Don’t let them walk all over you, and make sure—”
    “I’m well aware of how they should behave while they’re being led,” I said with perhaps more irritation than an employee should present to her employer.
    Dustin’s lip twisted, and I couldn’t decide if he was amused, annoyed or both. “All right. Well. I guess I don’t have to go over that, then.”
    Go ahead. I dare you. And I swear to