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must have been a bad gene pool in that dam. Don’t tell me you’re even considering putting him in training.”
    Emmie bit down on her tongue. There was something about Hifly that made her want to defend him. He was a spirited yearling, loving and eager to please. Gadfly, on the other hand, was ornery and always out of sorts. The day she’d brought him home, she told Cordell that she and she alone would be responsible for the colts’ care. Why she’d done that, she didn’t know. What she was trying to prove, she didn’t know. All she knew was that she wanted to do it, had to do it.
    Soon she was going to have to make a decision since both colts were a year old and training would have to begin. Even if she made the decision to race them, she had no jockey. She knew she was capable of training both horses but she wasn’t, nor could she ever be, a jockey. At least that’s what her mother told her early on.
    Hifly stuck his neck out of his stall to nuzzle her neck, then tried to stick his nose inside the pocket of her shirt for his mint. Mints were her mother’s trick for instant bonding. Such a little thing, yet so effective. She handed it over and tried to give him an apple, which he spit out. She doubled over laughing as she reached for more mints in her pocket. He snorted his approval.
    â€œGuess what! I have a date,” she whispered. As if this horse really cared. Still, he was someone to talk to, someone to share with. The best part was he didn’t answer back.
    Tonight was going to be her first date in years. Since Buddy, actually. She felt a little nervous at the prospect, but since she liked Mitch Cunningham maybe the evening would go well.
    On the walk up to the house, Emmie childishly crossed her fingers. Inside the kitchen, she almost called out Smitty’s name, the way she had every day since the office manager’s retirement. Smitty had retired along with Dover Wilkie when her mother married Hatch Littletree and moved to Santa Fe. Emmie had a new office manager now named Agnes Beakman. She ran a tight ship and didn’t believe in familiarity, to Emmie’s dismay. She also refused to baby-sit Gabby when she got home from school, which necessitated hiring a live-in nanny for the little girl.
    Things at Blue Diamond Farms had changed a lot since her mother moved away.
    There was a new housekeeper these days, too, named Gertie Zoloff, but she went home at night, leaving Emmie and Gabby alone with Terry Timmins, the nanny. It was a situation that worked for Emmie but wouldn’t have worked for her mother.
    Emmie found herself grimacing as she made her way up to the second floor. Her mother wasn’t going to like all the changes she’d made. She wondered how verbal she would be about her dislikes.
    The bathwater steamed upward. Emmie poured her favorite avocado bath salts under the gushing water and inhaled deeply. She tested the water with her big toe and quickly withdrew it. She turned off the hot water and let cold water rush from the tap before she slid down into the silky wetness.
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    Mitch Cunningham’s choice of restaurant was twenty-five miles away. The Picador was small and intimate, with the twelve tables spaced far enough apart so conversation stayed private. Emmie loved it immediately.
    â€œOne of my crew found it while he was out riding around. Most of the guys eat here every weekend. The food is quite good, and the service is one-on-one,” Mitch said, holding out her chair for her.
    â€œYou look so different, Emmie. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything but jeans and shirts. You should dress up more often.”
    Emmie blinked. She supposed it was a compliment. She smiled. “You look rather nice yourself,” she said, indicating his creased khakis and button-down white shirt. His unruly hair was slicked back, but somehow his curls had worked loose and fallen across his forehead.
    â€œWhen