Her Sure Thing. Helen Brenna
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Arlo said, the moment she moved out of earshot.
Sean had almost forgotten the old man was standing next to him. “Yeah, something.” Gorgeous and aloof topped with an attitude the size of the Chequamegon National Forest, he had two words for Grace Kahill. High and maintenance. He turned toward Arlo and frowned. “The next time you want to do an old friend a favor, check with me first.”
“Ah, heck. What would’ve been the point?” Arlo laughed. “I knew you wouldn’t go for boarding her horse.”
“Yet you agreed anyway?”
“Always did have a soft spot for Gracie. She worked for me for years. Hard worker, too. Besides, I wanted to see that Friesian of hers. He’s a beaut, isn’t he?”
As he watched the horse and its owner disappear into the barn, Sean ran his hands along his own bay’s muzzle. Boss had been the first horse Sean had ever owned, and the day he’d arrived on Mirabelle had been one of Sean’s happiest. He’d take his no-nonsense Arabian anyday over a high-strung dandy. “Her horse is gorgeous. I’ll give him that. But he’s a bit like his owner, isn’t he?”
“She said he’s well trained.”
Time would tell.
Arlo patted the bay’s neck. “I’d appreciate it, son, if you wouldn’t be too hard on her.”
When the two of them were alone, Arlo had a tendency to refer to Sean as son. The old man probably wasn’t even aware of his use of the endearment, but it meant something to Sean. “Hard on her? In what way?”
“I saw the way you were eyeing her. As if she’s like every other woman you knew growing up out in California. Bitchy. Demanding. What do they call them? Divas?” Arlo brushed the bay’s shoulder. “Grace is none of those things.”
That wasn’t all Sean had been thinking about as he’d been sizing up Grace, but he sure wasn’t going to enlighten Arlo anytime soon.
“Growing up the pastor’s daughter wasn’t the easiest thing here on Mirabelle,” Arlo went on. “Especially not for a young one as feisty as Grace.”
“Feisty? That what you call it?”
“Keep an open mind. That’s all I ask.”
“Sure. As long as you remember you don’t own this operation anymore. Deal?”
“Deal.” Arlo patted Sean’s horse and grinned. “Now that I think about it…you and Grace. You never know. You two might hit it off—”
“Oh, no,” Sean interrupted before the thought could take root in the old man’s stubborn mind. “My life’s fine the way it is, thank you very much.”
Sean took great pains to make sure no one on Mirabelle had a clue he was looking for a wife. The last thing he needed was any of his well-intentioned friends setting him up with every single available female on the island. He could do his own vetting, not that there was much to vet on a small island like Mirabelle.
Besides, Grace Kahill wasn’t even close to what he was looking for in a woman. A pretty package was a good start, but more than anything he wanted a full-fledged partner in life. A woman who didn’t mind getting her hands dirty and who loved Mirabelle as much as he did. A woman who would not only be content living in this small community for the rest of her life, she’d be happy to do so. Forever.
Arlo chuckled. “I got news for you, son. You don’t know it yet, but your life ain’t as great as you think it is. Find yourself a good woman, and then you’ll know what I’m talking about.”
He knew. “Yeah, well, she’s married, anyway.”
“Separated, is what I hear.”
“He came to the funeral.”
“Appearances, I guess.”
A marriage on the rocks? Only made for more baggage. “Doesn’t matter. I have absolutely no interest in a relationship with that woman. My summer’s going to be busy enough as it is.”
“Speaking of which…how’d things go down at the pier?”
“Fine.”
“Then where’s your son?”
Sean looked away. “Not exactly sure.”
“That doesn’t sound to me like everything went fine.”
“He left the ferry and took off toward town. Other than making sure he knows where I live, what was I supposed to do? The kid’s as communicative as a mule.”
“Go after him? Talk to him? Explain your side in this whole thing?”
“Yeah. I thought about all of those options.”
“And?”
“What do I know about being a father?”
“What does any man know about being a father until he is one?” Arlo nodded toward the main gate. “That him?”
Sean glanced down the drive and nodded. “Austin, can you come here a minute?”
The boy hesitated before finally skulking toward them.
“This is Arlo Duffy. You ever need anything or have any questions and you can’t find me, he’s the one you want.”
Arlo put out his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Austin.”
Grudgingly, Austin shook his hand and mumbled a hello, then he cocked his head to the side. “That your house?”
Sean nodded. “Your suitcase is on the porch.”
“So where the hell am I supposed to sleep?”
Add a mouth to that chip on his shoulder. Sean bit his tongue, but the kid’s attitude was already wearing on him. “Take the hallway to the right before you get to the kitchen. Last door on the left. Bathroom’s next door.”
Austin walked away, and that was that.
“See what I mean?” Sean said the moment the front door to the house slammed shut.
“Can you blame him? He just found out his dad isn’t really his dad. He’s confused and angry.” Arlo sighed. “Give him a chance to settle in. Might end up not being as bad as you think.”
Sean grunted.
“Be patient. With him. Yourself. You’ll figure it out, son. You’re a smart, compassionate man.”
“Not according to some folks here on Mirabelle.” There was no doubt his bedside manner had been slipping of late.
“A woman just might improve your mood some.”
“Let it go, Arlo.” Sean headed toward the stables. He had to get back to work. “The last thing I need is more complications in my life this summer.”
And Grace Kahill was nothing if not complicated.
CHAPTER THREE
HER FIRST MORNING ON MIRABELLE.
The sun already streaming through the open window, Grace lay in bed staring at the ceiling. The sound of squirrels scrabbling up and down the trees filtered in, along with the chirping of robins and chickadees, cardinals and finches. There were no traffic sounds to interfere with their songs, no smog to ruin the fresh-smelling spring air. She should’ve felt rested and relaxed. Instead, she was tense and edgy.
Rather than the restful night she’d hoped for, even after taking two pain pills, she’d slept fitfully, if that’s what you could call that flip-flopping, sweaty tussle in the sheets she’d suffered through for the last six hours. No point in lying here any longer. That was about all the decadence she could handle for one morning.
Flipping back the covers, she padded into the bathroom, unzipped the compression shirt and stepped into the shower.