Promise Her by Mitzi Pool Bridges Page B

in the middle of the field. The rider sat low in the saddle, one hand on the horn, the other holding the reins. Beneath a worn Stetson, Lisa’s long, blond hair was unmistakable.
    Douglas smiled.
    The pair made a beautiful picture; the Palomino horse with its tan body and golden mane and tail, and the woman whose hair almost matched.
    As she guided Sugarplum around the barrel turns, they took his breath away.
    He’d watched Lisa practice before at the ranch where she rode one of their horses. But their horses weren’t trained. Sugarplum was. The difference was amazing.
    Horse and rider leaned low to the side and flew around the first barrel in a tight but perfect circle. Douglas’ heart leaped into his throat. Then, Sugarplum thundered in the opposite direction toward the second barrel. They made the turn with graceful precision. He couldn’t help admiring them both.
    Racing against the clock, Lisa and Sugarplum turned toward the third and final barrel. Lisa’s boot clipped the barrel, knocking it to the ground.
    Ignoring the fault, she thundered toward the finish.
    He’d practically been born in a saddle, but could never match her skill.
    He wondered how someone so slight in build could handle a horse that well. It took more than skill. The rider had to be in top physical shape as well.
    Her cheeks were flushed from the ride, her hair a tangle of blond silk. His heart did that funny tripping thing again.
    Seeing him, Lisa drew Sugarplum to a walk and came over.
    “What brings you here this morning?”
    “You were magnificent.”
    “I kicked the barrel. Cost me five seconds. I have to do better.”
    She slid out of the saddle, took off her Stetson and brushed hair back from her face. “If you have bad news, I don’t want to hear it.”
    “No. Actually, I wanted to talk about Tempest and what happened that night.”
    “Here?”
    He looked around. “Join me for a cup of coffee?”
    “Give me a few minutes to brush Sugarplum. If you’re in a hurry, I can meet you at your office.”
    “Are you through?”
    “With what—practicing?”
    He nodded.
    “For now.” Her brow wrinkled. “I can’t seem to concentrate.”
    “Understandable.”
    “Has HPD contacted you?”
    “If you’re asking if they want to question you again, the answer is no. I think they realize the evidence is too circumstantial.”
    “Harold is a womanizer. He’d take any woman with a pulse to bed, and spend Tempest’s money on her the whole time. That’s reason enough to look at him.”
    “Hey. You’re preaching to the choir here. Remember?”
    When she grinned he felt that thump in his chest area again.
    He drove his SUV to the stable and waited while Lisa took care of Sugarplum. He couldn’t blame any man for hitting on her. But the idea of Harold Wheatley pursuing her made his stomach tighten.
    He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to figure out why his feelings were changing. She was beautiful and talented. But he had always known that. Had Lisa grown up and he was just now noticing?
    Wouldn’t that be normal even for a brother?
    Thirty minutes later, he still had no answer. When she climbed in to sit beside him, he thought he’d never seen her so beautiful.
    He cleared his throat. “Coffee?”
    “There’s a grocery store about a mile up the road. They have a Starbucks coffee bar.
    “I know that one,” he said as he backed out and turned around.
    “I talked to Mom.”
    “I heard from her this morning myself. She’s worried, told me to take care of this nonsense.”
    “I tried to convince her it was just a misunderstanding.”
    “You know Mom’s a worrier.”
    Of course she did. Why couldn’t he seem to get his footing? Conversation, especially with women, had never been a problem. Now he felt tongue-tied. Something was definitely wrong. Though the morning was cool, he felt perspiration on his forehead. Not normal at all.
    Within minutes, they were seated at a small table for two, sipping hot coffee.
    “The family’s