palm, looking for more. She laughed and rubbed his long nose.
“Nice horse,” a voice spoke behind her.
Zara glanced back. It was that guy—the sexy-skinny-sarcastic one she’d met earlier in the week when Keeper had arrived. Tall and lanky and oozing wicked charm. What was his name again? She knew it was something kind of different and preppy.
“Fitz Hall,” he said, as if reading her mind. “We met the other day.”
“I remember.” Zara leaned against the stall door behind her, making sure he had a good view of her assets. “I never forget a pretty face.”
Fitz grinned, leaning a little closer and resting one hand on the doorframe beside her. “Me neither. By the way, did I mention I’m the official barn welcome committee?”
“Oh yeah? So what does that mean?”
“What do you want it to mean?” he countered.
She smirked. “We’ll see.” Just then Keeper thrust his muzzle past her, still hoping for another carrot. She caught him around the nose and gave him a quick face hug.
Fitz reached out to give the chestnut a pat on the neck. “So you shipped this guy out from LA, huh?”
“Yeah. We sold my hunter and my large pony, but I told my parents I wasn’t moving without Keeper.” Zara shot Fitz a sidelong look. “And once you get to know me better, you’ll find out I almost always get my way.”
“Really?” Once again, Fitz leaned closer. “I hope I get to know you better real soon.”
Zara almost laughed. She could already tell that Fitz was used to getting what he wanted, too. And that he wasn’t afraid to go after it, corny lines and all, whatever it took. Definitely her type. But she wasn’t going to make it too easy for him. Where was the fun in that?
“Gotta go,” she said, casually glancing at her watch. “I’m late for my lesson.”
“Want me to show you to the indoor?” Fitz offered.
“No thanks. I remember how to get there.”
That was a lie. Zara hadn’t paid much attention when Jamie gave her the grand tour. But she hurried off around the corner, figuring she’d find it sooner or later.
The barn was laid out in a big rectangle, with two long aisles on either side and shorter ones on the ends. Stalls lined both side aisles, with space in the middle for a huge tack room, bathrooms, and other storage areas.
Okay, so where was the indoor? Zara wandered down the aisle, glancing into the stalls as she passed. She stopped short when she saw a guy cleaning one of them. His back was to her, and he was grooving to his iPod as he scooped up manure and shavings. She just stood there and enjoyed the show for a minute, smiling as he wriggled his tight little ass to the rhythm. Sweet.
“Hi there, sexy,” she said loudly. “Mind helping me out?”
The guy spun around, clearly taken by surprise. Yanking the iPod earbuds out of both ears, he looked her up and down.
Zara returned the favor. He looked just as good from the front as he had from the back. Maybe late teens, early twenties, dark hair, ripped arms, a little rough around the edges.
“I’m Zara,” she told him. “What’s your name?”
“Sean,” he said, taking in her boots and breeches. “You’re new here, right? You the one who’s supposed to be some kind of celebrity or something?”
“My parents are the celebrities, not me. My dad’s Zac Trask, and my mom’s Gina Girard.” Zara shrugged. “Rock star marries movie star. Total cliché, right?”
Sean took a step closer. “I wouldn’t know. But, you know, welcome to New York.”
Zara smiled. She could tell the guy was pretending not to be impressed by who she was. But so what? At least he was trying. And he was totally adorable in a raw, blue-collar kind of way. Nice change of pace from all those overprocessed California boys. Maybe switching coasts—and barns—wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Not that she’d had a choice. She hadn’t even found out about the move until everything was settled. Both of her parents had thought the other had
“Nice horse,” a voice spoke behind her.
Zara glanced back. It was that guy—the sexy-skinny-sarcastic one she’d met earlier in the week when Keeper had arrived. Tall and lanky and oozing wicked charm. What was his name again? She knew it was something kind of different and preppy.
“Fitz Hall,” he said, as if reading her mind. “We met the other day.”
“I remember.” Zara leaned against the stall door behind her, making sure he had a good view of her assets. “I never forget a pretty face.”
Fitz grinned, leaning a little closer and resting one hand on the doorframe beside her. “Me neither. By the way, did I mention I’m the official barn welcome committee?”
“Oh yeah? So what does that mean?”
“What do you want it to mean?” he countered.
She smirked. “We’ll see.” Just then Keeper thrust his muzzle past her, still hoping for another carrot. She caught him around the nose and gave him a quick face hug.
Fitz reached out to give the chestnut a pat on the neck. “So you shipped this guy out from LA, huh?”
“Yeah. We sold my hunter and my large pony, but I told my parents I wasn’t moving without Keeper.” Zara shot Fitz a sidelong look. “And once you get to know me better, you’ll find out I almost always get my way.”
“Really?” Once again, Fitz leaned closer. “I hope I get to know you better real soon.”
Zara almost laughed. She could already tell that Fitz was used to getting what he wanted, too. And that he wasn’t afraid to go after it, corny lines and all, whatever it took. Definitely her type. But she wasn’t going to make it too easy for him. Where was the fun in that?
“Gotta go,” she said, casually glancing at her watch. “I’m late for my lesson.”
“Want me to show you to the indoor?” Fitz offered.
“No thanks. I remember how to get there.”
That was a lie. Zara hadn’t paid much attention when Jamie gave her the grand tour. But she hurried off around the corner, figuring she’d find it sooner or later.
The barn was laid out in a big rectangle, with two long aisles on either side and shorter ones on the ends. Stalls lined both side aisles, with space in the middle for a huge tack room, bathrooms, and other storage areas.
Okay, so where was the indoor? Zara wandered down the aisle, glancing into the stalls as she passed. She stopped short when she saw a guy cleaning one of them. His back was to her, and he was grooving to his iPod as he scooped up manure and shavings. She just stood there and enjoyed the show for a minute, smiling as he wriggled his tight little ass to the rhythm. Sweet.
“Hi there, sexy,” she said loudly. “Mind helping me out?”
The guy spun around, clearly taken by surprise. Yanking the iPod earbuds out of both ears, he looked her up and down.
Zara returned the favor. He looked just as good from the front as he had from the back. Maybe late teens, early twenties, dark hair, ripped arms, a little rough around the edges.
“I’m Zara,” she told him. “What’s your name?”
“Sean,” he said, taking in her boots and breeches. “You’re new here, right? You the one who’s supposed to be some kind of celebrity or something?”
“My parents are the celebrities, not me. My dad’s Zac Trask, and my mom’s Gina Girard.” Zara shrugged. “Rock star marries movie star. Total cliché, right?”
Sean took a step closer. “I wouldn’t know. But, you know, welcome to New York.”
Zara smiled. She could tell the guy was pretending not to be impressed by who she was. But so what? At least he was trying. And he was totally adorable in a raw, blue-collar kind of way. Nice change of pace from all those overprocessed California boys. Maybe switching coasts—and barns—wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Not that she’d had a choice. She hadn’t even found out about the move until everything was settled. Both of her parents had thought the other had
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