busy, and he’d often felt overlooked. He’d never caused any trouble like Ian and Duke, and Spur had never given his parents any attitude, the way Conrad did.
As a result, his mother hadn’t had to spend much time and energy on him growing up. He’d thought he’d been doing her a favor by getting his chores done and keeping up in his classes. He probably had been, but he felt like the cost had been high for him personally.
He pushed his mother out of his mind as he approached the stall where his horse for the afternoon waited for him. “All right Lucky Number Thirteen,” he said. “Are you ready for this?”
He grinned at the horse and stepped over to a cooler at the end of the row. He found a bit of carrot and half an apple inside, and he took them to the beautiful black and white horse who could literally win everything next year. “You have to run,” he told her. “You have to run when I say, and pull back when I say, and you have to want it more than every other horse out there.”
He always gave pep talks to his horses. He believed they could feel his energy and knew on some level what he was telling them.
“You’re better than all of them,” he said, stroking his hand down the side of her face as she crunched through the apple, core and all. “You act like it, okay? You’re going to be the one they’re all watching.” He smiled as her lips rippled, her signal that she’d like the carrot now, please.
Spur gave it to her and said, “I’m getting the saddle. Get ready.”
By the time Spur showered and put on his dating clothes, the sun was starting to set. Olli had texted for an eight o’clock dinner time, and he’d said they wouldn’t be able to make it to a movie if they ate that late.
She’d responded with, We’ll have a movie night in, and a smiley face.
Spur’s heart raced through his chest, much the same way Lucky had galloped around the track together. She’d ran, and Spur was confident he could sell her for a three-quarters of a million dollars. Her mother had won the Preakness three years ago, and her father had qualified for the Derby.
Everyone already knew about Lucky, because it had been a big news event when Here For Good had been brought in to Bluegrass Ranch for the studding. News vans had followed his horse trailer from the ranch where he’d retired, and Spur had turned them away at the gates of Bluegrass.
He got a couple of hours with the horse, and he wanted to make sure his mare got pregnant. No news crews needed for that.
Before he knew it, he stood on Olli’s porch once again. If she knew how hard it was to come to the door and ring that blasted bell, she’d have the door open for him before he got there.
“No!” he heard behind the door, and he instinctively leaned closer to it to hear more. “Witcher, you naughty thing. No!”
Spur pressed the button to ring the bell, and Olli appeared only a few seconds later. She sighed as she pushed her hair off her forehead. “Hey, come in.”
“Don’t sound so happy about it,” he teased.
“My stupid cat ate the fish,” she said, giving him a disgruntled look as she went past him.
“I can call for delivery,” he said easily.
“I promised you dinner,” she said, her voice full of helplessness.
“Animals are unpredictable,” Spur said.
Olli turned back to him. “You’ve told me that before. Last week, when the sheep nearly trampled me.”
Spur looked up from his phone, where he’d been looking up delivery times for his favorite places. He blinked and then started laughing. “They wouldn’t have touched you,” he said. “Sheep are scared of their own shadow.”
Olli smiled, at least. “Why did you ride in on your big horse then?” She practically prowled toward him, and Spur forgot all about delivery and his phone as he drank in her feminine form. She wore a black pencil skirt that fell tastefully to her knees and gave her an hourglass shape in her hips and waist and bust.
The black and white striped blouse was open at the throat, and Spur tried to imagine what she’d taste like in that spot. His mind blanked when he caught the scent of her perfume, because it was so sexy and so perfect for a woman like Olli.
“Huh?” She tiptoed