A Forever Christmas(69)

He deserved better than her.

* * *

TWO DAYS LATER, Shaman hadn’t left Dark Diablo for even a grocery run. He had too much to do. So he stayed put, even though lust prodded him to go hunt down the beautiful woman who’d seduced him with sweet kisses.

He didn’t allow himself to think about her much—just about five hundred times a day. Instead, he worked on the barn Gage was determined to have torn down, and he spent time breaking the new mare Jonas Callahan had bought. Her name was Candy, but she was anything but sweet. Jonas was determined that this ebony mustang he’d gotten from a horse rescue society might be the basis for his equine program. He said she reminded him of the black Diablo mustangs that were rumored to run through the canyons of Rancho Diablo, but Shaman wasn’t sure Candy had anything mystical or magical in her. She was bad-tempered and stubborn, maybe not even a diamond in the rough.

Only Jonas would want a wild mustang for his equine program. Not exactly a quality ride—and yet Shaman relished the chance to learn, and to shape the animal’s spirit. It had to be done just right: slowly, patiently.

One thing a man learned in the military was patience.

He ran his hand lightly over the mare’s neck, making certain the lead rope wasn’t too tight. She did have a shiny coat and beautiful brown eyes. It was the attitude that he had to work on.

“Hi.”

When Shaman heard the voice behind him, he knew at once that it belonged to the sweet angel who’d ditched him.

“Easy, Candy,” he said, taking his time turning to face his visitor. She was dressed in blue jean capris and a filmy pink top today, a sexy dream destined to keep him sleepless. “Hello, Cupertino.”

She seemed surprised by what he’d called her. He shrugged. It was her name, and he wasn’t much for anything fake. “What brings you out here?”

She held up a picnic basket. It was high noon and hot; he was sweaty and had been alone with his thoughts too long. “The rain check,” she said. “I’m sorry I had to leave the other night.”

“No, you’re not.” He ignored the basket and gently tugged Candy forward by the lead rope. The mare didn’t seem too disposed to be pliable, and Shaman moved carefully so she wouldn’t shy away. “But that’s okay. I’m not much of a guy for talking during meals.”

“So I’ve heard.”

He ignored that, too, drawing Candy in a circle. “What’s in the basket?”

“Veggie wraps, made by Shinny and Blanche. Cheese and crackers. Some white wine. White-chocolate pretzels and strawberries. They said you and your family are vegetarian.”

He kept the woman waiting for a few minutes, drawing out his surrender to her. Candy kicked up a hoof, trying to show him that she might be on a lead, but that didn’t mean she was giving up any of her sassy spirit.

“Sounds good,” he finally said. “Why don’t you take it into the kitchen, put it on the table and leave it for me?”

She stared at him. “I...know you’re not much for conversation, but I’d really hoped...”

He looked at her directly, daring her to be honest. “Hoped for what?”

After a moment, she said, “I’m not sure.”

She wasn’t being honest. And he demanded honesty. “Just leave it in the kitchen,” he told her. “Tell Shinny and Blanche thanks. And I sent your bag to Cat this morning, with Jonas.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I didn’t mean to leave it here.”

“Yeah, you did.” He wasn’t going to give her an inch.

She didn’t say anything, and he felt her indecision. After a minute, the tall, gorgeous blonde carried the picnic basket to the farmhouse, disappearing inside. He stayed outside with Candy, never looking toward the house, yet listening for the sound of her white Land Rover to start up. After thirty minutes, when he didn’t hear it, he put Candy away with a hose-down she despised and a rub she tried to kick him for as her equine thank-you. Then he let her go, after putting out hay for her to eyeball with wild eyes. She galloped off to forage for herself—but he knew she’d remember that treats were here and always available after training.

She’d remember, and she’d have to make up her mind to cool her attitude just a bit, day by day.

He went inside the house, took off his boots. The picnic basket wasn’t on the table. Instead, the table had been set, with white wine in the glasses. Tempest was asleep on the sofa, her long, silky hair falling over her shoulder.