Made For Marriage. Helen Lacey

Dad—”

      “Go,” he instructed.

      Callie clutched Indiana’s reins tightly. Gorgeous, maybe. Friendly, not one bit.

      His daughter went to say something else but stopped. She shrugged her shoulders and told the smaller children to follow her. Once Lily and the children were out of sight the man turned to her. “What exactly do you think you were doing?”

      “I was—”

      “My daughter gets thrown off a horse and you just left her lying in the dirt. What if she’d been seriously injured?”

      Callie held her ground. She’d handled parents before. “She wasn’t, though.”

      “Did you even check? I’ll see your license revoked,” he said. “You’re not fit to work with children.”

      That got her mouth moving. “Just wait one minute,” she said, planting her hands on her hips for dramatic effect. “You don’t have the right—”

      “I do,” he said quickly. “What kind of nut are you?”

      Callie’s face burned. “I’m not a—”

      “Of all the irresponsible things I’ve—”

      “Would you stop interrupting me,” she said, cutting him off right back. It did the trick because he clammed up instantly. He really was remarkably handsome. Callie took a deep breath. “Your daughter took my horse without permission.”

      “So this is Lily’s fault?”

      “I didn’t say that.”

      He stepped closer and Callie was suddenly struck by how tall he was and how broad his shoulders were. “Then it’s your fault?” He raised his hands. “Your property, your horse … it’s not hard to figure out who’s to blame.”

      “She took the horse without my permission,” Callie said again, firmer this time, making a point and refusing to be verbally outmaneuvered by a gorgeous man with a sexy voice.

      His green eyes glittered. “So she was wandering around unsupervised, Ms. Jones?”

      Annoyance weaved up her spine. Ms. Jones? Nothing friendly about that.

      She took a deep breath and willed herself to keep her cool. “I understand how this looks and how you must feel, but I think—”

      “Are you a parent?” he asked quickly.

      “No.”

      “Then you don’t know how I feel.”

      He was right—she didn’t have a clue. She wasn’t a parent. She’d never be a parent. Silence stretched. She looked at him. He looked at her. Something flickered between them. An undercurrent. Not of anger—this was something else.

      He’s looking at me. He’s angry. He’s downright furious. But he’s checking me out.

      Callie couldn’t remember the last time she’d registered that kind of look. Or the last time she’d wanted to look back. But she knew she shouldn’t. He had children. He was obviously married. She glanced at his left hand. No wedding ring. Her belly dipped nonsensically.

      His eyes narrowed. “Have you any qualifications?”

      She stared at him. “I have an instructor’s ticket from the Equestrian Federation of—”

      “I meant qualifications to work with kids?” he said, cutting off her ramble. “Like teaching credentials? Or a degree in child psychology? Come to think of it, do you have any qualifications other than the fact you can ride a horse?”

      Outraged, Callie opened her mouth to speak but quickly stopped. She was suddenly tongue-tied, stripped of her usual ability to speak her mind. Her cheeks flamed and thankfully her silence didn’t last long. “Are you always so … so rude?”

      He smiled as though he found her anger amusing. “And do you always allow your students to walk around unsupervised?”

      “No,” she replied, burning up. “But you’re not in possession of all the facts.”

      He watched her for a moment, every gorgeous inch of him focused on her, and she experienced a strange dip in the pit of her stomach, like she was riding a roller coaster way too fast.

      “Then please … enlighten me,” he said quietly.

      Callie bit her temper back. “When Lily arrived early I told her to wait for me. She didn’t.”

      “And that’s when she took your horse?”

      “Yes.”

      “Why didn’t you tell her to get off?”

      “I did,” Callie replied. “Although I’ve discovered that sometimes its better practice to let people find out just how—”

      “You mean the hard way?” he asked, cutting her off again.

      Callie nodded. “But she wasn’t in any danger. Indiana wouldn’t have hurt her.”

      “Just for the record,” he said quietly—so quietly Callie knew he was holding himself in control—”Lily knows all about hard life lessons.”

      She’s not the only one.

      Good sense thankfully prevailed and she kept her cool. “I’m sorry you had a reason to be concerned about her safety,” she said quietly. “I had no idea she would do something like that.”

      “Did it occur to you to call me?” he asked. “I did leave you my cell number when I first phoned you. Lily arrived two hours early—didn’t that set off some kind of alarm bell?”

      “She said you’d told her the wrong time.”

      “Does that seem likely? This arrangement won’t work out,” he said before she could respond. “I’ll find another instructor for Lily—one who can act responsibly.”

      His words stung. But Callie had no illusions about Lily Preston. The girl was trouble. And she certainly didn’t want to have anything more to do with the man in front of her. Despite the fact her dormant libido had suddenly resurfaced and seemed to be singing, pick me, pick me!

      She wanted to challenge him there and then to who was the responsible one—her for taking her eyes off Lily for a matter of minutes or him for clearly having little control over his daughter. But she didn’t. Think about the business. Think about the horses. The last run-in she had with a parent had cost her nearly a quarter of her students and she was still struggling to recoup her losses. Three months earlier Callie had caught two students breaking the rules and had quickly cancelled all lessons with the troublesome sisters. But the girls’ mother had other ideas, and she’d threatened to lodge a formal complaint with the Equestrian Federation. It could have led to the suspension of her instructor’s license. Of course Callie could still teach without it, but her credentials were important to her. And she didn’t want that kind of trouble again.

      “That’s your decision.”

      He didn’t say another word. He just turned on his heels and walked away.

      Callie slumped back against a fence post. Moments later she heard the rumble of an engine and didn’t take a breath until the sound of tires crunching over gravel faded into nothing.

      She looked at Indiana. She’d brought the horse with her from California—just Indy and three suitcases containing her most treasured belongings. Indiana had remained quarantined for some time after her arrival. Long enough for Callie to hunt through real estate lists until she’d found the perfect place to start her riding school.

      Callie loved Sandhills Farm. Indiana and the rest of her nine horses were her life … her babies. The only babies I’ll have. It made her think of that man and his four children.

      A strange sensation