I stared at Aunt Barbara without saying a word. She lowered her pen and sat back in her chair; we'd been busy all morning, and I thought when I woke up today, there would be at least two less people dawdling around the house, but Conner didn't seem to trust me around his mom. Anika seemed irrationally afraid Barbara would replace her, and Bradley was endlessly fascinated with me.

"I am still holding back, am I not?" she said, and I didn't need to answer her. Even though we were alone in her office, her attention wasn't entirely focused on her work.

"What do you like to do—apart from writing. Something you can do here," I asked, and a frown teased at her brow.

"I have not been riding in ages."

I could already see her mind entertaining the idea and liking it.

"Then why don't you go riding, just let your mind free, and live the moment. Relax a little. Put everything, including writing, out of your mind. Take a notepad, and write anything that occurs to you in no more than one or two brief sentences, focusing on the experience."

"Why does it sound like you are not coming with me? Can you not ride? I refuse to believe that—Marguerite loved riding."

"I never saw my grandmother on the back of a horse, but when Kayla started riding lessons, she insisted that I do as well." At least now it made sense.

"That is so sad; she was a natural. She loved horses, and they loved her."

"I am guessing you didn't bring any riding clothes?"

"Actually, I did. We were supposed to do trail rides out on a ranch in Texas for a couple of days before I came here, but with everything, it didn't happen. Although I think my idea of riding clothes and yours may differ."

"As long as you are comfortable. I'll meet you outside in ten minutes, and we can take the golf cart out to the stables," she decided, and I didn't expect the glint of excitement in her gaze as she shifted upright and got to her feet.

She seemingly had none of the little aches and pains Marguerite had in the mornings and was quite fit for her age. She went for a long walk every morning, and she swam.

I stared at Bradley, who looked like he had just hung the world and immediately noted his riding clothes.

"We better get those horses saddled if we want to return in time for lunch. Hope the guest knows how to ride and not just sit on a horse."

All my joy at getting in the saddle for the first time in months evaporated at the sound of Anika's voice. This would not be the relaxing trip I envisioned.

"We are not returning for lunch. Angela and Juan are riding out to the waterfall to prepare a picnic, and yes, I already asked the Zephyrs for permission. We'll meet Angela there at noon."

Barbara's words sunk my hope of escaping our current company after a quick ride evaporated. But one look at her turned me silent. The idea of going on a ride with her family put a sparkle in my employer's eyes and a glow on her cheeks. This seems to be something they used to do as a family and stopped doing.

"Come on, we're waiting," Barbara hurried them along, but Juan already led the first horse outside, a spirited bay gelding that eyed my sedate mount and danced sideways.

Before Corner even strode over to the animal, I knew it would be just his speed, but as he steadied it, he led the gelding toward Anika instead. With a single touch of her hand on its velvety nose, it calmed.

Juan's son, Mike, emerged with a beautiful Arabian that embodied elegance and arrogance, and it nickered happily when Bradley took the reins, its mane combed out to hang down his neck. When Juan brought out the fiery chestnut he could barely control as it fought him, Connor whistled through his teeth, and the animal grew still as a statue.

I would never have pegged the Shetlands as horse people. Usually, animals were good judges of character, and I tended to trust people that animals trusted, but this time, I reserved judgment.

***

They must have been into polo and stuff at their fancy schools. Steeple chase. Dressage. They mounted, and I didn't appreciate the little twist of warmth in my lower abdomen as Conner lifted his muscled frame onto that horse. He looked magnificent as he settled himself and took control of his temperamental ride like it was nothing.

I could imagine him playing polo. Bradley, I would peg more as a steeple chase kind of guy, and Anika would have either gone for jumping or dressage.

She backed up her horse, and the metal bucket Juan had used earlier fell over. My seemingly mild-tempered and slightly sleepy nag came to life as it reared into the air, pawing at the rolling bucket like an enemy.

If it hadn't been for Kayla always being so damned competitive, my rivalry with Rory Heinz, and my love of horses, I wouldn't have been able to control Charlie. Even as I did, my eyes met with Anika's, and I realized she'd done it on purpose, hoping the animal would dump me on my ass. But the slight concern I spied in her expression told me she didn't expect the ferocity of his reaction.

None of the other horses did more than sidle out of the way, and anger washed through my blood in a haze of red. Even as I strove to keep my emotions under control to not stress the animal out any further, the Latina in my blood boiled past the restraint of my German ancestry.

"Shh, Charlie. It's okay," I soothed, touching his neck, and keeping myself steady before pinning Anika down with my gaze.

At that moment, I didn't care if Barbara fired me after this, but I could have gotten really hurt if I had been a less experienced rider.

I didn't learn to ride at some fancy school, but we learned how to handle horses on a working ranch and often went on trail rides, and Canada wasn't a tame country like this area.

"Mam, it is your right to dislike and distrust me, but what you just did seems like the thoughtless behavior of a child. You might have injured or killed me and hurt this horse. If you are willing to physically harm me to rid you of my presence, then I cannot remain. I am sorry, Aunt Barbara, but this is a bridge too far."

The horse had calmed, even though it still breathed like a bellows, its eyes rolling every time it glanced at the bucket lying in a pool of sudsy water.

I almost raised a brow when no one corrected my use of the word "aunt." Without waiting for a response, I lowered myself to the ground, and Juan immediately took the reins. I was surprised that my shaky legs could support my weight.

"Thanks, Juan, and sorry for the inconvenience."

"Old Charlie is too shaky to take out now, anyway. He'll spook at every shadow," Juan said, frowning angrily at Anika.

I rubbed the animal's nose, and it leaned into my touch.

I frowned as I realized Juan had addressed me in Spanish. Did he guess, or was he told who my grandmother was? Most people didn't even know I spoke the language, and we never use it in our house. Or, at least, I didn't. Sometimes when grandma's temper got the better of her, she'd rattle on in Spanish, but even though she taught me the language, she raised me to speak English.

I half expected Anika to make some snide, self-satisfied remark.

"I am sorry. Charlie doesn't usually react so violently if he's startled, mainly making a bit of a fuss and scaring people."

It shocked me into understanding it wasn't the first time she pulled this dangerously stupid stunt on someone.

"The handle broke off the water bucket the other day when my son watered Charlie. It clattered on the floor, and he has been loco ever since." Juan addressed Anika in Spanish as well, shrugging at his own words.

"Anika did not intend to harm you, Avery."

Martians landing in the driveway would have been less unexpected than Conner speaking up on her behalf or seemingly trying to make things right between us. Why? What was his angle?

For that matter, why did she apologize? They were getting what they wanted, weren't they?