Top Secret Identity. Sharon Dunn

keep his opinions about his clients to himself. Today was Friday. The guests would be showing up soon, and the weekend would be nonstop interaction and work with lots of people wanting to ride. Morgan was already shouldering a lot of the work duties. “Tell you what. I’ll go inside and get a few things done. By the time you’ve gotten the twins’ horses settled and finished the lesson, I can come back out and we’ll take the horses out together.”

      “Having company always makes the time go faster.” A faint smile graced her full mouth. “I’ll have the horses saddled up and ready.” He watched her walk back toward the twins, her long dark hair waving in the wind.

      Was he a glutton for punishment or what? She’d just made it abundantly clear that she didn’t want him butting into her life, yet he’d looked for an excuse to spend time with her.

      He shook his head and strode back toward the guesthouse.

      * * *

      After helping the twins unsaddle, rub down their horses and clamber into the car with their mother, Morgan returned to the stable. She hadn’t seen Craig since he’d left the lesson and stomped off to the stable. Despite his attitude, the boy did have a strong work ethic. He was probably in one of the other buildings doing whatever repairs needed to be done. Morgan picked up two bridles off the hay bale where she had instructed the twins to leave them.

      Most of the tack was stored in narrow locked cabinets on the opposite wall from the horse stalls. Morgan retrieved a key and opened the door to the cabinet. A scraping sound caused her to take a step back. A spur that had been hooked to the cupboard door fell into the hay by her feet.

      She picked up the spur and fingered the star-shaped rowel, which was designed to dig into a horse to make him go faster. Use of spurs was not a method she favored. If she hadn’t moved in time, the metal could have cut her or damaged an eye. No one would accidently put a spur up there.

      Would Craig be so malicious as to do something like that, knowing that she was the only one who had a key to the tack cupboard? She debated whether to tell Alex or not. He was already on the verge of firing the kid. And what if she was wrong? What if a careless client had placed the spur up there? She would have no chance of winning Craig over. As resentful as the boy was, she just couldn’t picture him doing anything that would harm her physically. His defiance was much more up front.

      Maybe it would be best not to tell Alex. She shook her head when she thought about him.

      A spark of attraction had passed between them when he’d held her hand to call a truce. The fluttering of her heart at his touch caught her by surprise. The last thing she needed to do was fall for the boss. She touched her hand to her heart as the familiar sadness returned. If she couldn’t talk about who she used to be, how could she get close to anyone? Connection happened when two people fully knew each other. That wasn’t going to happen...not until all of this was over and the people behind the baby-smuggling ring were caught.

      At least Alex seemed to finally understand that she didn’t want to talk about the past. The marshals had suggested that she create a new background in addition to having a new name. She couldn’t bring herself to live with that much falsehood. When she had first moved to Des Moines, she thought the best strategy would be to keep her distance from everyone. But then an intense loneliness had set in.

      Here at The Stables, working with the children and the horses alleviated the loneliness and loss of purpose. Alex was the only one who had asked any probing questions.

      Bluebell whinnied from her stall. “You’re raring to go, aren’t you?” She retrieved the horse’s bridle and slipped it over Bluebell’s head. The horse stretched her neck over the stall gate, and Morgan stroked her nose and neck.

      Bluebell jerked her head back violently and shifted her weight from side to side. The metal of her bridle clinked with each head thrust. Several other horses stirred in their stalls. A thumping noise came from the loft. Morgan lifted her head. She smelled smoke. She sprinted toward the door, searching for the source of the fire.

      Bluebell reared and kicked the gate of her stall. Frantic, Morgan opened the door. There was no fire outside. The smell of the smoke was much more intense inside. Her gaze traveled upward toward the loft, where smoke billowed out. Grabbing a wool saddle blanket, she climbed up the ladder. The fire was small but spreading quickly, fueled by the hay spread across the floor.

      She placed the blanket over the flames, smothering them. She coughed as the smoke grew thicker. Pressing her forearm over her mouth, she whirled around. The flames had jumped to a straw bale. She could feel herself growing lightheaded as she picked up the wool blanket and stumbled toward the spreading flames.

      Down below, wood splintered as Bluebell crashed through her stall. Heavy smoke surrounded Morgan. She coughed, struggling to beat back the flames. She felt dizzy as she swayed and slumped to the floor of the loft.