They talked a few more minutes before ending the call, then T.J. clipped his cell phone to his belt and led the sorrel gelding from the barn into the adjoining indoor arena. Mounting the horse, he used the reins to guide it into the series of moves that would be expected of the animal and its rider during competition. But as the horse executed the patterns flawlessly, T.J.’s mind was on other things.
Nate clearly wasn’t as good with women as he let on, not if the blonde was breaking things off between them. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything T.J. could do about his brother’s situation. But there was, however, something he could do about the situation with Heather and her son.
First thing tomorrow morning, he fully intended to go over to the Circle W and assess the situation for himself. If it turned out that she was indeed on her own over there, as he strongly suspected, she could talk until she was blue in the face but he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
He was going to help Heather. And in the bargain, assuage his conscience for being such a jerk about her horse.
* * *
Heather yawned and finished putting Seth’s coat and hat on him, then lifted him into the strap-on baby carrier she was wearing.
“As soon as we feed the horses and muck out the stalls, you can take a nap while I see if I can find a few extra dollars in the budget to fix the roof over the utility room.”
In answer, her son smiled at her and sleepily laid his head against her breast. While she fed the horses and mucked out stalls, Seth would doze on and off and babble to her about the horses, which he loved. Then he’d sleep for another half hour or so after they returned to the house. It wasn’t easy working with a toddler strapped to her chest and the chores took almost twice the amount of time that they would have taken otherwise, but after almost a year and a half of having to do it this way, she and Seth were both used to the routine.
As she left the house, Heather noticed a pickup truck with the Dusty Diamond logo painted on the side parked beside her ancient Toyota. Why wasn’t she surprised that T.J. had again sent one of his men over to take care of the chores? She’d never met a man more determined to have his way. He had decided that she didn’t need to be out doing the chores and he was doing everything he could to make sure she wasn’t.
But when she started across the yard, she looked up to find that it was T.J. himself standing in the barn’s wide doorway. Her heart skipped a beat. As much as she would like to ignore her reaction, just the sight of the man caused her to catch her breath. Leaning one shoulder against the door, he had his arms folded across his broad chest and his long blue-jean-clad legs crossed casually at the ankles. But his wide-brimmed, black hat was pulled down low on his forehead and he wore the same dark scowl that she had seen each time he’d brought her stallion back.
A twinge of disappointment ran through her. Just when she had started to think he really was one of the good guys, he had apparently returned to being the disapproving, judgmental neighbor.
“What are you doing here, Malloy?” she asked, aggravated with herself for giving his rugged good looks and the return of his ornery disposition a second thought.
“I came to take care of your horses and check to see if you and Seth are all right,” he said, his tone flat.
“As you can see we’re both doing fine and I’m perfectly capable of taking care of my own horses,” she answered, stopping in front of him. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get that done.”
Uncrossing his big booted feet, he straightened, blocking her entry into the barn. “I’ve already fed them and after I turned them out into the pasture for some exercise, I mucked out the stalls and put down fresh straw. They’re already back in their stalls and should be good until tomorrow.”
“How long have you been here?” she asked, disturbed by the fact that he had been on the property for at least a couple of hours without her realizing he was even there.
What if he’d been someone else? Someone who was up to no good? A thief would have been able to take anything he wanted and she would have been none the wiser. Or worse yet, someone could have broken into the house before she’d had the chance to retrieve her father’s old shotgun that hung above the fireplace mantel in the living room.
Not that retrieving the shotgun would have done a lot of good. It had a broken trigger and hadn’t been capable of firing in more than twenty years. Not to mention the fact that she wasn’t even sure how to load it. But just the sight of the gun might be enough to intimidate someone into leaving her and her son alone.
“I got here around dawn and it was long enough to know that you haven’t been completely honest with me, Heather.” He nodded toward the house. “It’s still pretty damp and chilly. Why don’t we go inside? We can talk there.”