Page 9 of A Cowboy in the Streets

“Uncle Zack says the truth is like jalapenos. It’s all right, in small doses, but there’s no need to go throwing handfuls around where it isn’t wanted.”

I choked on a laugh. Uncle Zack seemed like an interesting character.

“Belle’s not unrideable,” Adam said, his voice riding the line between patient and exasperated. “We just haven’t figured her out yet.”

I liked that. He hadn’t given up on her. She was a puzzle that needed to be solved.

“The last trainer called her a man-eater,” Ben said.

I laughed and gave him a conspiratorial wink. “Then it’s a good thing I’m a woman.” I turned back to Blaine, who was scratching Belle behind the ear. “She doesn’t bite or kick?”

“Nah, she likes people. Just doesn’t like them on her back.”

“Huh.” That was interesting. With horses, a bad attitude wasn’t usually constrained to riding. Still, I could see for myself that Blaine spoke the truth. She was high spirited and curious, and not at all vicious, at least with us all on the ground. “What do you make of that?”

Blaine straightened. “You want my opinion?”

I nodded. “Yeah, you must have some theories, having worked with her. Let’s hear them.”

“It’s who she is.” He fingered the nylon longe line thoughtfully. “We’ve gotten her a full health inspection. The vet can’t find anything wrong with her. No sore spots, nothin.’ It’s her nature. Some dogs don’t like to get wet, and even if you train them to swim, they’re never going to enjoy it. I figure it’s the same with Belle. Even if by some miracle you do get her to take a rider, she’s never going to love it. Not the way she needs to. Winners have spirit. They love their work. Belle?” He shook his head. “She just doesn’t have it.”

I took that in, not missing the worried looks Adam and Ted exchanged. They thought Blaine might be right. Maybe he was. Maybe Belle would never be a winner. Maybe I was about to fall flat on my face.

But I wasn’t about to let that stop me from trying.

I took hold of Belle’s halter, bringing her face closer to mine, letting her get a good whiff of my scent. “What do you say, girl? You want to find out?”

Her nostrils flared and she snuffled my neck, making me laugh.

I would take that as a yes.

Chapter 4

Adam

“Six months. That was our deal.” Dad didn’t look up from the pot of water he was bringing to a boil—which meant spaghetti for dinner, again—didn’t even wait for me to get a word in when I entered the kitchen before he spoke.

Although, to be fair, he wasn’t wrong. I was here to renege.

“I don’t recall making that deal,” I said. “In fact, I specifically recall not saying anything.”

“Silence is acceptance, legally speaking. They said so on one of those legal dramas, so it must be true. Anyway, as it so happens, her contract says she gets six months’ pay, whether we terminate her tomorrow or she stays on until Christmas. I figure we might as well get the work out of her if she’s getting the money out of us.”

I stared at him. “That’s not the usual contract we offer.”

“No, it’s not. But James is special. If you can’t see that, you’re an idiot.”

I grimaced. I wasn’t an idiot. Of course I could see that James was special. She was like the sun. Anyone fortunate enough to stand next to her felt a little bit warmer, a little bit brighter. Dad, Ben—they both liked her. Even Chloe from the coffee shop had been smitten.

I saw the way Blaine reacted to her, too. In that quick half-hour meeting, she had managed to make him feel valued and respected. I believe him, she had said, and he had stood taller. That went a long way with Blaine. I would have said she’d played him exactly right, except I didn’t think she had been playing. She actually meant it.

Goddammit.

“Now, I know you were surprised that she showed up looking like she did when you were expecting a man”—Dad fought his grin mightily, lost, and allowed himself a chuckle before getting serious again—“but you know that has nothing to do with how well she can do the job. Your mother was the best horseperson around. She could ride circles around any one of us, except maybe Zack. So I know you’re not going to stand here in your mother’s kitchen and tell me that James isn’t man enough for the job.”

No, I wasn’t going to say that. Mom would rise up from her grave to spit in my face if I said that. I had no problem with James being a woman. James being that woman? Yeah, I had a huge problem with that.

Dad heated a glug of olive oil in a pot, then tossed in a palmful of fresh, minced garlic. Then he popped open a jar of store-bought pasta sauce and dumped it in, followed by a splash of red wine. That was Dad through and through: store bought, but fancied up a bit.

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