Saddle Up(3)

Seconds passed.

Her hands tightened on the wheel.

A horn blasted as she swerved right into the lane leading to the Long Beach Freeway. The ocean route would add at least two hours to her drive, but she was determined to fulfill at least part of her dream.





Chapter 2


Rancho Santa Fe, California

Arriving ahead of schedule, Miranda presented her employee ID to the security guard manning the entrance. “Hi. I’m Miranda Sutton with Starlight Productions. We’re filming an event here.” With Lexi’s reminder of her neglected love life lingering in her mind, Miranda flashed her most disarming smile.

“Sutton?” He scanned a sheet for her name. “Go ahead.” He nodded, and then opened the gate without even looking up.

“Thanks,” she replied, disappointed in having wasted her best smile.

Pulling through the elaborate wrought iron entrance, Miranda found not one, but three full-size equestrian arenas and a parking lot dotted with high-priced cars. Pulling between a Lexus and a Mercedes convertible, she parked and climbed out of her car, camera bag slung over her shoulder. Finding no sign of Bibi, Miranda checked her watch. She was an hour early.

Miranda decided to scout the site. As she approached the main arena, she encountered a curvy brunette in tight-fitting white dressage breeches and glossy black boots leading a huge chestnut horse with a stud chain wrapped tightly around its nose. The horse was visibly agitated, with its ears pinned and nostrils flared. Although Miranda hadn’t been around horses in several years, she knew enough to recognize the signs of its distress. Any time he snorted or pulled his head away, the woman gave a hard jerk on the chain, which only seemed to increase the animal’s agitation. Miranda was almost ready to speak out when a man appeared and snatched the lead from the woman’s hands.

“What the hell are you doing?” the brunette demanded.

“Pain is only going to get resentment from him, not respect. Right now this animal is fighting you every step of the way—and this is why.” To Miranda’s amazement, he unsnapped the chain and then removed the animal’s halter as well. The moment the horse realized it was free, it spun and bolted, bucking all the way to the far end of the arena. “Most horses will walk or trot over to the fence when released. Picasso ran like his tail was on fire. What does that tell you?” he asked the gaping woman.

“He’s difficult to work with,” the brunette snapped. “All the horses in his bloodline are high-strung.”

“That’s because high-dollar show horses like him spend way too much time confined in a stall. You need to let your horse just be a horse now and then.”

The woman frowned at the chestnut that was now galloping laps around the arena. “How the hell am I supposed to control him now?” she demanded, hands on hips.

“You’re going to get nowhere unless you give him some downtime. When he snorts, tosses his head, bucks, or kicks up his heels, he’s not being bad, Steffi. He’s just feeling good.”

“I thought I was paying you to work with him,” she said, still visibly miffed.

“I will. But first we need to teach him that work can be fun. Let him have it, and he’ll start to relax. Once that happens, he’ll concentrate better on what you want rather than trying to escape at every opportunity.”

“I don’t understand the point,” the woman argued. “How is any of this going to improve his performance under saddle?”

“Performance is all about cooperation. Just give this guy a few minutes to release some pent-up energy and I promise he’ll be a different animal. Time spent on this kind of activity will pay off in spades once you’re in the saddle.”

The cowboy tossed the lasso he held in his hands toward the horse. The startled animal changed course and began trotting in the other direction. The man’s soft, sexy voice was as confident as his movements. “I don’t care what gait he’s in as long as he’s moving in the direction I send him in. In essence, we’re acting the way a dominant horse would in a herd situation.”

Mesmerized, Miranda watched the interplay between man and horse. She uncapped her camera lens and began filming the cowboy and the horse. Within minutes, the animal was moving in a relaxed, floating gait. Although her personal experience with equines was limited to the working livestock on her grandparents’ ranch, she recognized the expert skill with which this man directed the animal’s movements.

After several more laps, it lowered its head and approached the cowboy. He stretched out his hand and caressed the animal’s muzzle. “You see how little effort that took? Now he’s willing to get to work.”

The cowboy turned in Miranda’s direction. It was only then that she realized he was the man she was looking for. The long, loose hair he’d worn in the videos was plaited in two long, neat braids covered by the cowboy hat. In his jeans, faded denim shirt, hat, and boots, he’d looked far more cowboy than Indian—until he’d faced her. Their eyes met for the first time. His black brows rose as his gaze dropped to her camera. “I didn’t realize we were being filmed.”

The brunette speared Miranda with a haughty stare. “Filming someone without permission. That’s presumptuous, don’t you think?”

“I’m sorry,” Miranda said. “Maybe I should have asked, but I hated to interrupt you.” She lowered her camera and climbed over the fence rail. “I’m Miranda Sutton. I came to film the clinic.” She stepped forward, hand extended. He took her hand in his, flashing a smile so dazzling it made her breath catch. She struggled not to gape.