Lone Stallion's Lady Read Online Free PDF

old man.” With that he strode toward the truck and left Gina behind, feeling like an utter fool.
    Trent zeroed in on the man who claimed to be his grandfather as the older man walked around a dented fender of the truck.
    “You must be Trent.” Garrett removed his sunglasses, stuffed them into a pocket of his faded plaid shirt and extended his hand. “Here a bit early, aren’t you?”
    “I guess I just couldn’t wait.”
    “Fair enough.” Garrett’s smile was rock-steady. “Glad to finally meet you. Sorry it took so long.”
    Trent took the older man’s hand. Garrett’s clasp was strong and sure, his face weathered, his straight hair nearly silver. There was a trace of Native American in him, the coppery skin and high cheekbones giving testament to it, but his eyes were a startling blue. Intense enough that, Trent guessed, they could cut through any amount of bull slung in the old man’s direction. “So, what do I call you? Gramps?” He couldn’t hide the sarcasm in his tone. Trent had learned long ago not to rely on family. A man made his own way in the world. Period. He relied on no one.
    “Garrett will do.”
    “Good.”
    “I guess I should start out by apologizing for my son.” Pain stole through the old man’s eyes. “I had noidea that you or any of the others existed.” He lifted his hands and from the corner of his eye, Trent noticed that Gina had joined them in the shade of the tree and the old dog had followed suit, ambling across the sun-dappled gravel to sit at Garrett’s feet.
    “It’s not your fault.”
    Garrett rubbed his chin. “No, but it doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad or obligated to make it up to you and the others.”
    “Maybe no one wants anything.”
    “Maybe.” Garrett didn’t seem convinced, and Trent realized this was a sincere man, one who was embarrassed by his son. Trent’s biological father.
    It seemed that Larry Kincaid was a far worse choice for being a father or role model than Harold Remmington, the man Trent’s mother had passed off as his and his twin’s father. Harold had been a decent enough guy, Trent supposed, if you liked wimps. Trent didn’t.
    But, hell, Larry Kincaid?
    “You’ve met Gina, I see,” Garrett said, hitching his chin in the woman’s direction.
    “Just.”
    Gina—if that was her real name—managed a smile that seemed well-practiced at best. Oh, she was a looker, he’d grant her that. He’d noticed her right off in the DeMarco Hotel’s patio bar. She’d walked into the bar, alone, and he’d felt something like the soft touch of a finger at his nape. He’d looked up and found himself staring at the most beautiful woman he’d seen in a long,long while. Her red hair, cut in soft layers, had framed a perfectly oval face of white skin dusted with a few freckles. Her eyes, a deep green fringed with gold-tipped lashes, had seemed to sparkle in the moon glow. A pouty little smile that he’d found absolutely fascinating had been his undoing. From the first second he’d laid eyes on her, he’d determined that he would seduce her.
    Right now, he noticed the rosy glow that had come to her cheeks. So she was embarrassed. She should be. She’d lied to him. And gotten caught. Trent had no use for liars. They were worse than wimps.
    “We’ve actually met once before,” she admitted, shaking Garrett’s hand with a familiarity that bothered Trent. It was as if they were in on a very private secret—one that involved him. “Briefly. In Dallas.”
    Garrett raised a silver eyebrow, but didn’t comment.
    “Maybe we should go somewhere and sort this all out,” Trent suggested, suddenly uncomfortable. He looked to the sky and saw a hawk circling and high above that, the fading wake of a jet slicing across the wide Montana sky.
    “Good idea. We’ll meet up at the house,” Garrett suggested. “I suppose you both brought your things.”
    “Mine are in the car, but I’ll take a room in town,” Gina said quickly.
    Garrett scowled.