Christmas with the Stallions

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CHRISTMAS WITH THE

STALLIONS

Addison Avery

MENAGE AMOUR

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com

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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

IMPRINT: Ménage Amour

CHRISTMAS WITH THE STALLIONS

Copyright © 2009 by Addison Avery

E-book ISBN: 1-60601-708-X

First E-book Publication: December 2009

Cover design by Jinger Heaston

All cover art and logo copyright © 2009 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

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This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHER

Siren Publishing, Inc.

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For Tina and Wendy with many thanks for their support Ebook piracy is stealing. It is a federal offense.

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CHRISTMAS WITH THE

STALLIONS

ADDISON AVERY

Copyright © 2009

Haley McIntire stood at her kitchen sink with a warm iron skillet in hand. If the weight of the object didn’t remind her of what she clutched, then the smell of recently fried eggs did. Neither encouraged her to dip the pan into suds and scrub away the remains of breakfast.

She couldn’t tear her gaze away from the window. Oh no, she possessed little motivation for anything more than gawking.

One of the cowboys who joined her for breakfast tilted his hat and smiled. The other hunk in boots waved after he slipped his thick arms into the coat she insisted he wear into the dead of winter.

Absentmindedly, she wiggled her fingers in a hello gesture and then quickly turned around before either cowboy witnessed her pink cheeks. God help her. She was losing her mind.

The young men, less than a hundred yards from the house, probably knew they were the sources behind her reason for staring outside with true interest. Since they shared her roof, too, the flirtations continued around the clock.

Grabbing a dishcloth from the soapy water, she washed the shallow pan and tried to pretend she wasn’t interested in the cowboys she’d hired for the holidays. For two weeks, she endured one sleepless night after another. For fourteen days, she’d questioned her motives Ebook piracy is stealing. It is a federal offense.

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Christmas With the Stallions

7

and wondered why she employed men young enough to be called out as her sons.

If she’d only bore a few children, she wouldn’t have needed to hire help for the winter. Instead, she placed an ad in several local newspapers and hired a pair of studs—students—prior to meeting them. She deserved to squirm. What a lesson learned. At forty years old, she needed a shrink more than she needed two handsome men in their prime.

“You gonna stand there all day and act like you aren’t interested in those two young guns out there, or are you gonna get some work done and make a go of the day ahead?”

Haley dropped the rag in the sink and quickly turned around to face off with Shelly, her best friend from the good old days, the one constant companion she’d nearly clung to since her husband died.

“They sure are pretty, huh?” Haley asked with a deliberate sigh.

“They sure are young,” Shelly reminded, settling her ass on the ceramic-tile countertop right next to the full kitchen sink.

Haley slapped her knee. “What brings you out here so early this morning?”

“Are you kidding me? I may be married, but I ain’t dead, girlfriend. In fact, I’m surprised every woman over forty isn’t knocking down your fences and pitching tents in your barnyard.”

“Word travels fast, huh?”

“Oh yeah,” Shelly said. “The buzz is about and those two you’ve got tossing a little hay and mucking stalls have every gal within several miles of this place wagging their tongues and revving up their sex toys.”

Haley laughed. “Is that right?”

“Damn straight,” Shelly said. “So which cowboy inspires you to change the batteries in your vibrator?”

Haley started to take a drink of her coffee and changed her immediate plans when her friend’s question caught her off guard. She grabbed a napkin and wiped her mouth. “I beg your pardon?”

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8

Addison Avery

“Don’t play that innocent card with me, Haley McIntire,” Shelly drawled. “I’ve known you for how many years now?”

“Apparently not long enough if you think I’m chasing after two college-aged kids.”

“Those fellows ain’t kids, friend,” Shelly pointed out, flipping her dark hair over her back and stretching her neck so she too could spy on the sexy ranch hands.

“Where does George think you are this morning?”

She sighed, leaning over Haley’s shoulder. “Grocery shopping.”

“Ah,” Haley said. “Do you think he’ll get suspicious now that you’ve used the same excuse for the last week and a half?”

“Naw,” she replied. “I’ve explained that with the horrible economy, we need to watch our spending. I’m shopping on a daily basis to help us avoid waste.”

“Interesting.”

“And believable. Money is tight right now, ya know.”

“Sure.” Haley looked up to see who slammed the door behind her.

“Hiya, Colt,” Shelly chirped, bouncing her leg and trying her best to quickly adjust her red blouse so she showed off plenty of cleavage.

Sometimes Haley worried about Shelly. For a married woman, she sure liked to flaunt her assets.

“Mrs. Smith, nice to see you again,” he said.

Haley giggled and Shelly corrected him. “Mrs. Smith is my mother-in-law. How about you call me Shelly?”

“All right,” he said. “Shelly, it’s nice to see you.” Then his hot chocolate eyes focused on Haley. “We got a mare down in the lower field.”

Haley grabbed a light windbreaker off the door-side coat rack and tossed it over her arm. “Be right back, Shell.”

“Don’t worry about me,” she said, waggling her brows. “I’ll look around the house at your Christmas decorations while you’re gone.”

“You do that,” she said. “And try not to rearrange my villages. I like them the way they are.”

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Christmas With the Stallions

9

Shelly grinned. “Yes, but I like to play with all of your toys, darling.”

Catching the underlying insinuation, Haley shook her head and hurriedly walked outside toward the pick-up truck. Colt opened the door, and she slid across the leather seat.

Haley waved goodbye to her curious friend. Later, she’d have to tell her while she settled for looking at the Old Workshop Christmas Village, she enjoyed the luxury of a hot and spicy ride, sandwiched in between two of the sexiest cowboys alive.

Studying Seth beside her, she resisted the sudden urge to run her hands through his unkempt, long blond hair, but she might have if he hadn’t startled her by his expression and then a warning. “It’s bad, Haley,” he said, his brown eyes full of concern. “You need to prepare for the worst.”

* * * *

Out in the field, Haley knelt beside the mare. “We’re gonna have to get Doc Thomas out here,” she declared, petting the gentle horse’s head.

“I’ve already called him,” Seth told her, glancing up for just a second.

“And?” Haley asked impatiently.

“He’s out of town and won’t be back until late tonight,” Seth replied. “Haley, I think someone may have poisoned her.”

“What?” Haley asked in an elevated pitch. “Why the hell would you think such a thing?”

Colt spoke up. “We worked for one of the largest Walking Horse barns in Shelbyville a few summers ago. This mare is showing signs of a poisoned animal.”

“That’s insane,” Haley said, scrubbing her hands together and blowing hot air over her cold fingers. “I don’t have enemies and everyone around here knows Daisy was the last horse my…my…”

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10

Addison Avery

She swallowed hard and finished her sentence. “Daisy was the last horse my husband bought prior to his car accident.”

Seth and Colt swapped a quick glance.

“Enemy or not, this horse has been poisoned,” Colt persisted, his dark eyes piercing through hers as he squatted next to the animal.

Daisy released a tortured breath, one where her nostrils flared and her sides swelled to an enormous size. Her eyes opened and closed as she continued her struggle to breathe.

“It’s okay, girl, just take it easy,” Haley said, trying to comfort her.

Helpless, Colt stood again and rushed to the truck for horse blankets. Pulling them from the back, something in the distance held his gaze and he made a quick inquiry. “Haley, what the hell is that over there?” he asked, pointing.

Haley studied the fence line and the dead remains of the Oleanders she tried to grow soon after her husband’s death. She revisited the memory and shook her head. Tears came to her eyes and she responded, “I don’t have a green thumb but tried to grow Oleanders this past year. I guess you could say I—”