The Black Sheep and the Hidden Beauty by Donna Kauffman Page B

that?”
    â€œI worked with my father growing up—he trained show horses, then branched out into a field that also happened to be dominated by men. Not by choice, that part, it just happens to be the way the racing world is. I guess not many women take after the thundering thoroughbred types, preferring the show ring to the racetrack.”
    â€œI meant, how is it that you think men act? But, regarding the thundering thing, women ride horses, too, right? Professionally, I mean. I see them in the Olympics and—”
    â€œSteeplechase and show jumping is hardly the same thing.”
    â€œI know, but it’s still thundering, of sorts.”
    â€œIt is, but that field is male-dominant, too. I suppose that women like me, those who enjoy the thundering aspect, as you put it, would lean more toward those routes. They’re more acceptable, for one, and available through established channels. There’s also barrel racing and the whole western rodeo aspect of that type of racing as well.”
    Rafe glanced at Petunia, then reached out and stroked the side of her neck. For someone who didn’t seem particularly interested in getting up close and personal with his horse, she was pleased to see that his touch was confident, almost casual, as if he’d done it a thousand times before. Petunia leaned a bit closer to him.
    Maybe he was just good with anything female, Elena thought, and found herself looking at his hands. They looked strong, with wide palms, solid, long fingers, and she found herself abstractedly wondering what they’d feel like stroking the length of her—
    â€œSo why don’t you race?” Rafe asked, intruding into her reverie and thankfully pulling her back to the moment literally at hand.
    â€œWhat? Oh, me, race?” She shook her head. “No. I enjoy riding, but I’m too big to be a jockey. Not that I really wanted to be one, anyway. I enjoy working with the horses themselves. All animals, really.” She smiled. “I thought about being a vet when I was little, but it turns out I don’t do too well with the sight of blood.”
    His lips curved just a little and, too late, she remembered that part about his charm being more lethal when he was amused. “That would certainly put a damper on things.”
    â€œPretty much. One of the farms I spent time on as a child was run by a woman who did all kinds of rescue work with animals. She was amazing. And I thought that’s what I wanted to do when I grew up, heal wounded animals. Turns out the wounded part was a little hard for me. I ended up following my dad’s footsteps more instead.”
    â€œYou said he was a show-horse trainer.”
    â€œHe was. A very good one, in fact. He worked hard to build his reputation, but we moved around a lot as a consequence of his popularity.”
    â€œWhat about your mother? Did she work with horses as well?”
    â€œNot at all. In fact, she didn’t even ride.” When Rafe lifted his eyebrows, she explained further. “My mother and father met on one of the farms where he worked. He trained the horses, she worked in the main house as a housekeeper.” She held his gaze steadily now. She was quite proud of her parents, but not everybody who heard their story reacted the same way.
    â€œMy mother worked as a maid in a hotel in New York City. Amongst other things,” Rafe responded.
    Apparently her surprise showed on her face, because his resulting hint of a smile was sardonic at best. “Why are you surprised?”
    â€œI don’t know. I guess I wouldn’t have pegged you as being from a blue-collar background.” Which wasn’t entirely true. She’d noted before that for all his casual elegance, there was something edgy about him that spoke of a life not completely without challenges. She just wasn’t sure what those challenges had been. “And given that I, of all people, should know better, that