The Black Sheep and the Hidden Beauty

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

H
e found himself watching her. Again.

Not his type. And yet, more and more often, Raphael Santiago was making excuses to leave his offices in the main house and wander down to the paddocks. He'd stroll the fence line. And watch her. He'd reasoned that it was his fascination with the horses, and yet he'd been on Dalton Downs property going on two years now, and it had only been in the past several months that he'd found them suddenly intriguing—a time frame that just happened to coincide with when she'd taken over as stable manager and head trainer.

He never lingered, never spoke to her. He'd wander on along, stopping by Kate's office, or head on down to Mac's place farther back on the property, if it was after work hours. Yet he missed very little.

She was graceful in movement, yet strong and controlled. Gentle in tone and demeanor, yet brooked no argument from the half-ton beasts she trained as easily as if they were puppies. She fascinated him, when she shouldn't.

She wasn't his type. Not even close.

He walked along the worn path to the outer barns, careful not to step in anything that would make him regret not changing out of his Italian, hand-tooled shoes, wondering what the hell he was doing. Given that he was headed toward the stables used by employees only, it wasn't to see Kate. Or Mac.

No, he was walking all the way out here because of another man. Not that he had any claim on her. They'd done nothing more than exchange the occasional nod. And it wasn't as if he kept tabs on her personal time, but Dalton Downs was private property, so he'd have noticed if she'd had regular company. And, to his knowledge, this was her first visitor since coming here. Which he gave less than a damn about. Or would have.

Except he'd been heading down to Kate's office, hoping to catch Mac about some questions on one of their case files, denying it was just another excuse to watch her, when the guy had shown up. She'd been surprised to see him, and, from what he could tell of her expression, not entirely happily so. In fact, she'd darted a gaze around, as if concerned to be seen talking to him.

She'd ended her training session with the horse immediately, a poor wretch of a thing she, Kate, and Mac had recently rescued, and handed him over to one of the help, before giving the newcomer a fast, tight hug. Next thing he knew, she was leading the older guy out to the employee barns, away from the hustle and bustle of Kate's teaching program. And, perhaps, the watching eyes of her coworkers.

Rafe certainly hadn't intended to follow them. What she did and with whom was her business. He had more than enough of his own to handle at the moment.

But something simply hadn't seemed right about that brief episode. That look on her face, perhaps, in that split second before she'd smiled and waved hello to her guest. Something. All he knew was that whatever that something was, it had made the hairs prickle along his neck. And the next thing he knew, he was picking his way along the path to the outer stables, trying not to ruin a pair of three-hundred-dollar shoes.

Mac would chalk it up to wanting sex. Kate would scold him for potentially disrupting her program. His mother would have a coronary if she knew he'd spent more then forty dollars for a pair of shoes.

But none of that mattered at the moment. Something wasn't right here. And if there was one thing Mac, Finn, and Rafe firmly believed in, it was following gut instinct. Maybe that was what had called to him about her all along. That, despite appearances to the contrary, something wasn't what it seemed with Elena Caulfield. It was almost a relief to have an actual reason for his otherwise unusual fascination with her.

She wasn't his type.

Not that she was particularly hard on the eyes. And he admired a woman who didn't mind getting her hands dirty. But from what he'd come to learn about her, she spent a good chunk of her day with at least some part of her person covered in mud or muck. Or worse. And didn't much seem to mind. She wore little or no makeup, as far as he could tell, and pulled her dark hair straight back in a simple, single braid that swung halfway to her ass. An ass even he couldn't make out in the baggy overalls she favored.

Long hair. That part was nice. And he'd have been lying if he said he hadn't spent at least a few minutes wondering what it would look like all loose and wavy. He was a man, after all. But it was clear she wasn't all that caught up in the more conventional rituals of being female, something Rafe unapologetically enjoyed in the women of his acquaintance. Tomboys had their appeal to some men, but he liked a woman who reveled in her femininity.

So his fascination had been something of a mystery to him.

Not any longer. It had merely been instinct that something was off.

Maybe now he was finally going to get the chance to figure out what that something was.

He slowed as he drew closer to the paddock. It was empty, so they'd already gone inside. He'd let them get a good head start so as not to be completely obvious. It was why he'd walked over rather than taking one of the Dalton golf carts.

He ducked through the fence, not wanting to swing the gate open and announce his arrival with a metal squeal. The big, sliding barn door had been shoved along the track just enough to allow a person to duck inside. He glanced back toward the main barns, but no one had followed him. In fact, a quick glance back at the stables and up to the house proved that no one was paying the least bit of attention to what was going on out here. So he moved closer to the edge of the door, careful not to let the sun cast his shadow across the opening. And listened.

“How you doing there, old girl? Elena taking good care of you?”

It was the man, and Rafe assumed he was talking to her horse.

“She's feeding well, not putting on too much weight.” This from Elena. “So far, I think we're doing okay.”

Her voice was low, soft, with a cadence that was naturally soothing. Rafe began to see how she seduced the headstrong animals she worked with into doing what she wanted. A man hears a voice like that, he might be inclined to do the same.

“That's good. Really good. I know how worried you are. Although, I have to be honest, Lenie. Given that concern, I'm still having a hard time understanding why you left—”

“Kenny, I know you worry, too, but I've explained my reasons the best I can. Besides, it's good here. She's doing great.”

“She is. But what about you?”

“I'm—fine. It's a good job, I'm good at it, they seem happy with me, and it's the right place. For both of us. For now.”

“But you're going back, right? Back to the track? Your dad would be so proud of all you've accomplished and you know he'd hate it if you gave up on your dream.”

When she spoke again, her voice was a bit deeper, perhaps a bit tighter. With what emotion—anger, regret, or grief—Rafe couldn't be sure without seeing her expression.

“Right now the only thing that matters to me is making sure Springer has a foal that lives, and that she stays healthy before, during, and after. That's why I came to you. You're the closest thing to family I have. I trust you. But, as much as I appreciate you coming all the way out here, it would really be best if, from now on, as she gets closer, I brought her to you when the time is right. They're doing right by me here and I don't need or want to worry them with a problem horse.”

“I know, honey, and I appreciate that. Just as I'm sure you're so overqualified, they're jumping for joy to have you. I'd imagine, though, given the work they do here, with those kids, the last thing they'd worry about is you taking care of what's yours. I saw that poor thing you were training when I got here. A charity case if I ever saw one—”

“That's something else I took on, for Kate. It's not my regular—”

“I know.” His voice gentled. “I'm just saying, it's what they do here, they mend things. Animals. People. Souls and spirits. I guess…I just worry that you need mending, is all. I never saw that in you. Always so sure of yourself. Then, after Geronimo and that horrible tragedy—”

“I was going to leave anyway, Kenny. Even if everything else hadn't happened. It—I wasn't going to advance there. I just…I wasn't sure what my next step should be. Then I found out about Springer, and it all seemed like a giant signal to just step back, take some time. So I did. No regrets.”

There was a long pause, then, “Okay. I just—if you needed to talk, about anything—”

“I know. And thank you. Just help me keep her okay and you'll be doing more for me than you could possibly know.”

He chuckled then, and there was a rustle of clothing. A hug, perhaps. Without peeking around the door and giving himself away, Rafe couldn't be certain.

“I'd have been upset if you hadn't come to me,” Kenny said a moment later. “But I'm available for more than vet care if you need the ear.”

“Understood. And appreciated.”

Their voices drew closer and Rafe realized they were heading his way. He'd been so caught up in the conversation and the information it was revealing, he hadn't exactly thought out his escape route.

Too late to duck away, so the only alternative was to stroll in as if that was his intention all along. He slid the door back a bit more, the resulting grind of metal on the metal tracks abruptly stopping the conversation inside.

The sun at his back made both Elena and Kenny shield their eyes as he stepped into the darker interior of the barn. They stopped walking as well, waiting for him to come further inside.

Elena spoke first. “Can I help you, Mr. Santiago?”

“Yes,” he said, not having a clue what he was going to say until he said it. “And it's Rafe, please. I was—I'm interested in talking to you.”

Her expression grew wary as she looked past him. Expecting to see what, or who, he wasn't sure. But he was too busy scrambling to come up with a reason for his sudden arrival to worry about that.

She wore the same denim overalls he'd always seen her in, with a faded yellow bandana tied loosely around her neck, and her boots caked in God-knew-what. She'd pushed up the long sleeves of her pale green tee, which was covered in the red, dusty clay that passed for dirt in most of Virginia. As he stepped closer, he noted that she had a fair share of dust on her forehead and chin, too, as if she'd dragged her dusty sleeve across them a time or two.

Not exactly an enticing picture…and yet, standing closer like this, he found himself wondering how she'd clean up. All that riding she did, he'd bet there were some Class A legs inside those baggy overalls. She could probably do a pair of killer heels some justice, too, he thought, though from what he'd seen, he doubted she even owned a dress, much less heels.

“About?” she queried, making him realize he was staring.

His gaze found hers then. Brown eyes, he noted. Not the cute, puppy-dog kind. The old-soul kind. The kind that saw way more than made him comfortable.

Distinctly aware of the older man's attention focused on him as well, he was even less on top of his game than usual. He paused for a too-long second, then blurted out the only thing he could think of. “Riding lessons.”

To her credit, she tried to maintain her professional demeanor, but he couldn't help but notice her quick scan of his attire, which, admittedly, was about as far from barn clothing as you could get without being in a tailored suit or tux. “You…want riding lessons?”

“Yes,” he said, trying to sound like he meant it. “I want riding lessons.”

God help him.