Return to the Beach House by Georgia Bockoven Page A

opening. And I can hang around the stables and ask questions whenever I have free time.”
    Her excitement was contagious, and he did something he rarely did with anyone outside his close circle of friends in the dressage world. “As soon as we’re through in here, there are a couple of horses out back that I think you should see.”
    “Dressage horses?”
    He liked that she’d picked up enough clues to know there was a difference between the horse she’d just ridden, the horses in the far paddock that were being worked for barrel racing, and the kind of horse he rode. “They could be hunter/jumper-trained, but I’d be surprised if they don’t have dressage in their background.”
    A groom took the horse from Grace and secured him to a hitching post. He removed the tack, then took out a brush and thoroughly went over the horse’s coat. He gave him a drink and then a piece of apple and led him into the barn.
    “I can do that,” Grace said to Christopher.
    “Not all horses are like this one. Some can be downright cranky.” He started toward the back paddock. “And they’re smart enough to do mean things on purpose if they don’t like you. Or it could have nothing to do with you. It could be that they’ve had a bad day.”
    “What do you do then?”
    “Like everything else, you play it as it unfolds. Horses are like humans—each one is different. You need to learn how to read them. Sometimes you can speak their language, sometimes it’s Klingon.”
    “You realize you’re not being very helpful.”
    Christopher laughed. “Okay, here we go again.” He held up his hand with the fingers splayed. “First, when a horse that’s new to you sticks out his nose, that means he wants to smell you. Let him sniff the back of your hand. Second, don’t ignore a horse that’s pawing the ground. He’s either trying to get your attention because he’s bored, or he’s spoiled and wants you to do something for him, like give him a treat, or he’s letting you know that something is bothering him. Until you know which it is, be careful around him. Third, never forget you’re dealing with a thousand-pound animal. Steel-toed cowboy boots work a whole lot better than something fancy like Uggs when it comes to a shoving contest.”
    “Voice of experience?” she asked as they neared the paddock.
    “Unfortunately, it was my mother who learned the hard way. She stopped by one of my practice sessions on her way home from work, and when she tried to get a horse to move so she could see better, she wound up in a cast for six weeks.”
    “Ouch.”
    “She tried to convince everyone that ruining her Jimmy Choo heels hurt more than hurting her foot. But then she’s one of those women who has a thing for shoes.” Christopher looked around to pick an advantage point to watch the rider who had just come out of the stable area on the black stallion. He held his hand out to Grace and led her to the top of a grassy mound.
    “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” she whispered.
    He leaned back on his elbows. “Is there nothing that doesn’t interest you?”
    She leaned back with him. “If there is, I haven’t found it yet.”
    An hour later, Christopher’s phone vibrated. He checked to make sure it wasn’t his grandmother—she had a thing that was a mile past normal about not being able to reach him. It was a text from a friend back home. Without reading the message, he stuffed the phone back in his pocket.
    “It’s getting late,” he said. “Do you have to get back to fix dinner?”
    She shielded her eyes from the low-hanging sun. “Not tonight. It’s Rebecca’s turn.” She reached for her own phone. “But I should tell her what time I’ll be home.” She looked at him expectantly.
    “How long does it take to get there from here?”
    “Half an hour.”
    “Make it an hour from now.” He stood and brushed off his jeans. “So, what did you think?”
    “I’m impressed,” she said, finishing her text.