A lantern caught her attention, glowing like a firefly outside the stables. Holly could see shadows of the horses flickering in the windows and the woman inside, brushing them. It looked like one of the horses—the dark stallion she’d met the first time she came here—was giving the woman some trouble, tossing its head back and forth as she tried to brush it.
Holly glanced at Cassidy’s beer beside her and decided it would survive unattended for a few minutes. It wasn’t going to be possible to walk through the dirt in these heels (besides, they were murder on her feet as it was), so she slipped them off and walked barefoot. The cool blades of grass crunched under her toes until she made her way to the stables, where it was replaced by scratchy straw and dust.
“Settle down, boy,” the woman’s sharp voice rang out over the huffs and puffs of the irritated stallion. Face-to-face with a full-grown horse, the trainer held her own, her golden-brown eyes dark and commanding. She was beautiful in a way that might have been commonplace when she was younger but now—dangling into the snake pit of her forties, Holly guessed—she had strong, deep edges where there should have been delicate ones, giving her a handsome, commanding look.
“I’m not going to tell you twice,” she warned the stallion. In one perfectly manicured hand, she clutched a riding crop that seemed to vibrate with unspent tension.
“Maybe I can help,” Holly offered as she stepped into stables. She used the doorframe for balance to keep herself from falling in the hay (just being in this room brought back memories of being pinned into a pile of straw by Jacob’s strong arms and it warmed her from the inside out). From all the way across the stable, her voice felt small in comparison.
“Who are you?” An ugly sneer drew across the woman’s face, like a scar. Guarded.
“Holly—” She had to stop herself from saying Wright. But Holly Westmore felt somehow presumptuous, like she was forcing herself into a family before she even really got to know them, so she tried instead, “I’m Jacob’s wife.”
I’m Jacob’s. That felt right, even now.
The trainer’s expression shifted. Instead, her eyebrow quirked in amusement and her eyes scanned Holly head to toe. “So you’re the thorn in everyone’s paws,” she said.
Holly tried to ward off a blush. I didn’t ask for this! she wanted to scream. I didn’t want the Alpha of Red Moon. I just wanted a husband. And I wanted Jacob. “That’s what they tell me,” Holly said and then gestured to the horse. “May I?”
“You can try. He’s about as stubborn as they come.” The trainer’s red lips curled into a smug, coy grin as she stepped back to let Holly in.
“Hey…it’s okay…” Holly cooed, taking the horse’s harness in one hand and stroking the side of his neck with her other. “It’s going to be okay.”
Holly could feel the trainer’s eyes digging holes in the back of her head. “You’re not what I imagined,” the trainer said.
“What did you imagine?” The horse shook his neck, snorted, and then began to settle under Holly’s touch.
“Jacob doesn’t usually go for someone so…” The lingering pause wreaked havoc on Holly’s heartbeat. Someone so what? Old? Fat? Frumpy? Did he usually date young, hot little things that would succumb to his every whim, that would let him Mark them at the drop of a pin? “Wholesome,” the trainer finished, seemingly pleased that she’d nailed the right word.
Wholesome. That was worse. Wholesome was the polite way of saying boring. And Holly had strived to be anything but boring this time around. Boring was what had gotten her a cheating husband and a divorce last time.
Holly began to unhook the harness from the animal’s neck once he had fully calmed down and held the heavy brass over for the trainer. “What did you say your name was?” Holly asked.
“Miranda.” Again, there was that coy smile, that Mona Lisa grin, as though she was a big deal and that name was supposed to mean something to Holly. Unfortunately, it wasn’t ringing any bells. “But I wouldn’t go around broadcasting this conversation. Jacob doesn’t always like it when I play with his pets.”
Holly couldn’t tell if Miranda was talking about the horses or if that was meant to be a jab about her all-too-human nature. Either way, she chose to ignore it. “Have you worked here long?” Holly asked.
“About four years. On and off. Horses are more of a hobby for me than a career path. But you learn a thing or two about animals in that time. For example—” She nodded her head to gesture out through the stable door. “You’re about to get stung, honey.”