Return to the Beach House by Georgia Bockoven Page B

“The black horse seems a little full of himself, but I would imagine it’s because he’s still so young.”
    She couldn’t know this. It had to be a lucky guess. “What makes you think that?”
    She shot him a sideways glance. “Really want to know?”
    “Yes.”
    “Louis told me.”
    He shook his head. “I should have guessed.”
    “You have to admit, I had you going for a couple of minutes.” She followed him to the truck. “So, are you interested in the black one?”
    “I could be. But he’s young and not very well trained.”
    “Why do you suppose he’s not on your list?”
    “Could be because he’s not for sale.”
    “Are you going to ask?”
    Christopher stopped and looked at her. “What’s up? Why all the questions?”
    “No reason. I was just wondering about actually buying a horse out here. How are you going to get it home?”
    “By plane.”
    She frowned. “You’re kidding, right? That would cost a small fortune.”
    “Three or four thousand. Maybe a little more.”
    “Is it safe?” She climbed into her side of the truck. “For the horse, I mean.”
    “It’s actually less stressful than trailering it that far.”
    “Why?”
    “They’re not very good travelers. They stress out easily, and that lowers their immunity system, which makes them prone to respiratory infections. Once you get where you’re going, it can take days for them to regain their strength.”
    “Can you imagine the first time they put a horse on a plane? I’ll bet there were some nervous people at the other end of that flight.”
    “I don’t like thinking about one of my horses boxed up in the belly of a plane,” he admitted. “But if I ever get good enough to compete in Europe, I won’t have much choice.”
    “ One of your horses? How many do you have?”
    “Right now I’m down to three. Only one gets shipped anywhere. The other two are too old for anything but a slow stroll along the trails around my house.”
    Grace wished he hadn’t told her about owning three horses and buying another one and shipping it home in an airplane. Normal people didn’t have that kind of money. And she wanted him to be normal because she liked him.
    “Do you need me to give directions?” she asked.
    “I think I’ve got it. I’m pretty good at getting back from someplace.” He glanced at her. “You okay?”
    “Yeah, sure. I’m fine. Why are you asking?”
    “You’re not going to go all weird on me just because I have a couple of horses, are you?”
    “Maybe,” she admitted. How did he know?
    “Well, don’t.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “You still owe me a surfing lesson.”
    Grace stared at him long and hard. “You busy Friday?”
    “I thought we’d settled on Wednesday.”
    Of course he’d think she was talking about surfing. “There’s a party on Friday. One of my friends is leaving to spend the summer in France.”
    “All by herself? Not shipping any animals to keep her company?”
    She laughed. “Do you want to go or don’t you?”
    “Yes—I want to go.”
    “Good—all the other guys I know have turned me down.”
    “I sincerely doubt that.”
    She took off her boot and brought her foot up to tuck under her leg. “I’m going to give you the name of a rental shop in Santa Cruz that will fit you for a wet suit and a board. I’ll tell them you’re coming and that I’m going to be there at noon to pick you up. They’ll take good care of you.”
    “I assume you want me to go there Wednesday morning?”
    She nodded. “They usually show up around nine, but if the surf’s up, they may not be there until ten. If you have to wait, there’s a great coffee shop and bakery around the corner.”
    “Are we going to Manresa?”
    “Those aren’t novice waves. You want to start where you can learn the basics without fighting the water. Cowell’s is a great place to learn if it’s not too crowded. It’s to the right of the pier as you’re facing the ocean.”
    “What pier?”
    She