The Black Sheep and the Hidden Beauty. Donna Kauffman

better. It was just…a lot harder than she’d expected it would be. In less than twenty minutes, he’d already learned more about her than the people she worked next to all day, and had for the past two months.

      She turned back to the horse. “Continue to stroke her neck,” she instructed. “Talk to her. Get her used to your touch, your smell, the sound of your voice. It’s important that you not only trust her, but that she trusts you.”

      Of course, Petunia wouldn’t really care if Rafe were the demon saint from hell. She was notoriously easygoing, but Rafe didn’t know that, and regardless, it was good procedure.

      Sensing that Rafe wasn’t completely comfortable with the whole meet-and-greet routine, much less in front of her, she said, “I’m going to the tack room to get a few things. You two continue to get to know each other.” She didn’t wait for him to respond, but ducked back down the row of stalls to the tack room located in the center of the two-aisle building, along with her small office.

      She already had the things laid out in the parallel aisle and grabbed the halter and lead rope from where they lay next to the western saddle and saddle pad she’d slung over the bench rest. She could have just as easily set up the gear in their aisle, but she wanted him to have the experience of leading the horse, however briefly, before saddling her for the first time.

      She walked back through to the other side, but paused at the corner between the tack room and the aisle where Rafe stood at Petunia’s stall door, and watched the two get acquainted.

      As she suspected, without her presence, he was less guarded. Earlier, when he’d stroked Petunia’s neck, his touch was very natural. She suspected he liked animals well enough, but maybe he just hadn’t been around one this size before. At least, not up close and personal. Or maybe he was just a tactile sort, and touching came naturally to him, she mused. She cursed the thought when her gaze drifted to his hands, presently stroking along Petunia’s neck, and her body reacted to the renewed image of what those wide palms would feel like stroking her.

      Petunia moved forward a bit more, lowered her head, and nuzzled his shoulder, bumping him a little with her nose. A definite sign of affection from the old mare. Of course, Rafe was probably used to females asking for more attention. She should have gotten him a gelding instead.

      What, you’re jealous of an old horse now? She shrugged off the notion as ridiculous, which it totally was, and stepped into the aisleway. What did she care what kind of relationships Rafe had with the opposite sex? She was his riding instructor, nothing more, nothing less. Nothing less was all she could afford to be. That more part would only get her in trouble.

      And she was in enough trouble already.

      Chapter 5

      Rafe had never touched a horse before. The closest he’d ever come to being near one was on the opposite side of the paddock fence. He’d always been perfectly okay with that.

      It wasn’t that he didn’t like animals, he did. Small animals. Smaller than he was, anyway. He stared at Petunia, who was looking at him with soulful brown eyes from behind ridiculously long eyelashes. “You look innocent enough,” he said quietly, “but I’ve met plenty of women who looked equally innocent, only to bounce me on my ass at the first turn.”

      Petunia made a sort of whuffling sound and edged closer to her stall door, swinging her muzzle toward him and nudging his shoulder. He accommodated the request by stroking her neck.

      “Sure, sure,” he said, “flirt with me now. But the first second I do something you don’t like, we both know who is getting tossed to the curb, don’t we?”

      He swore she bobbed her head in agreement, which made him smile despite himself. Probably just rubbing at his hand, but he couldn’t help but think she had an understanding of what he was talking about.

      He ran his hand along her neck, toward her haunches. “Just don’t embarrass me in front of the teacher, here, and I promise I’ll bring you a carrot or something next time, deal?”

      Petunia shuffled her feet, nudged him again.

      “What, you don’t like carrots? I thought that was a horse thing.”

      She stepped back, shook her head so her mane tossed, and nickered. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear they were actually communicating. Which was ridiculous, of course. But there was something about those huge chocolate-brown eyes, and the way she looked at him…He shook his head. Crazy.

      Petunia stamped her front feet a bit impatiently, and took a few steps back.

      “So, what, I have to guess now? Flowers? Chocolate? What’s it going to take? Dinner and a movie?”

      “I see you two are getting acquainted.” Elena walked up carrying a long length of coiled rope with a heavy clasp on one end, and what he supposed was the halter that went around Petunia’s head on the other. “We’re going to slip the halter on first.” She hung the rope over the horse’s neck and handed him the green nylon halter.

      “I thought you said ‘we.’”

      She smiled. “We, as in, I’ll explain how to do it while you slip it on and fasten it. From the looks of things, you already have Petunia half smitten with you anyway, so I don’t think this is going to be a big trial for you.”

      So, she’d been watching his lame attempts to woo the damn horse. He wondered if she’d overheard what he was saying, too. Refusing to be embarrassed, he took the halter from her and studied the arrangement of the nylon straps. “I’m guessing this end slips over the head first?”

      Elena nodded. “Then you snap it together there,” she said, pointing to a metal locking mechanism on the side. “You adjust it here,” she added, pointing to the buckles on either side.

      “Isn’t there supposed to be a bar or something that goes in the mouth?”

      “That’s a bridle, but you won’t be needing one of those today. This is enough.” She opened the stall door and stepped inside with Petunia, then motioned him in as well.

      “Shouldn’t we walk her out here where there’s more room?”

      “There are some common safety procedures you should always be aware of when you’re around any horse, but you’ll have to be in a stall with them from time to time, so best to understand tight quarters as well as open. Petunia is very easygoing, but don’t get lax just because she likes you.”

      Elena said that last part with almost a slight air of resentment, though with some dry amusement thrown in as well to temper any actual attitude. So, she hadn’t expected him to make such fast friends, which meant she wasn’t going to make this easy on him. Although, to be fair, the horse she picked was clearly not a handful, so she wasn’t trying to get him maimed or killed, either. Or scare him into thinking he might be. In fact, he couldn’t quite figure her out. But it was only their first session. He had time.

      She went through a quick rundown of how to move around a horse, where not to go, where not to stand—which mostly had to do with the rear feet—as well as being careful of horses who can swing their heads around and try and nip at you. He’d looked at Petunia when Elena had made that comment, and he swore the horse gave him an innocent “who, me?” blink.

      After a quick demo of her instructions, he stepped into the stall beside her. Despite the fact that the interior of the stall was roomy, they all seemed crowded into the front corner by the stall door, which, despite Petunia’s relaxed manner at the moment, did little to smooth over his reservations about this whole thing.

      He lifted the halter, but Elena blocked the move with her hand. “You’re not through making friends yet.”

      “What?”

      “You just invaded her personal space. Never do this unless invited or instructed to do so by me or one of the stable hands, okay?”

      “Why is it I think this isn’t standard procedure?”

      “You