Chapter One
Something was coming.
Harper Bishop shot up in bed, heart rocketing at full speed, and squinted into the shadows. Soft fur and flaming heat surrounded her, but her body was so used to the raging temperatures, she couldn’t sleep unless she was surrounded in a wolflike pack. Her dogs muttered in annoyance and shifted even closer, not sensing anything wrong as the clock struck three a.m.
Slowly, her body relaxed. Probably just a crazy dream. With her canine menagerie, no bad guy had a chance of sneaking in, and everyone in town knew there was nothing to steal in her two-bedroom cottage unless they wanted a rescue animal.
She lay back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling. Her insides shifted again, as if sensing a storm rolling in. Sometimes she wondered if she was becoming more animal-like because of her company. But this primitive instinct stirring her gut didn’t feel like danger.
No, more like a premonition her safe, orderly, protected life was about to unravel.
Her brother, Ethan, would understand. He’d once confided he’d gotten those feelings back when he was in the military, ready to jump out of a plane on a rescue mission. A prickling of awareness that his old life was about to change for good.
Biting back a sigh, she carefully extricated herself from the queen-size bed, where she barely had enough room to breathe, and padded to the kitchen. Moonlight trickled through the windows, and a soft spring breeze wafted in, caressing her bare skin. Figaro lifted her head from her perch on the top of the recliner and shot her a disgusted stare. Then went back to sleep.
Harper shook her head. Figaro never acted like a rescue cat. The black feline had been half-starved, rain soaked, and shivering in the bushes when Harper saved her. A few days later, the cat had claimed her space like the royal queen she believed she was, forcing the dogs to accept the new hierarchy. Harper’s animals were like a bunch of moody teenagers, hating when their sleep was interrupted even though they got about eighteen hours per day. Harper counted herself lucky if she scored five.
Flicking on the light, she perused her choice of coffee beans, deciding on the special Kona blend she had shipped straight from Disney World. She watched the pot drip, sucking in the amazing smell of energy and life, then took her mug to the oversize leather chair—the one Figaro didn’t currently occupy. Curling her feet underneath her, she cuddled under the worn afghan and settled in to watch the world slowly wake up.
Her mind drifted, touching on the various tasks that made up her day. Running one of the oldest horse-rescue farms in the quaint town of Gardiner was her passion, but extremely demanding. There was another horse auction to attend, where she’d be on the lookout for any abused or broken horses to bring back and rehabilitate. Three horseback-riding appointments for guests at the bed-and-breakfast on the property, which her sister, Ophelia, ran. One vet appointment for Stitch, who might have bruised her foreleg. And two buyer appointments she prayed would go successfully. God knew there were only so many stalls in the barn, and the more animals she was able to place, the more she could take in. It was a vicious cycle, often filled with disappointment and heartbreak, but she lived for the victories. Time had taught her how to wall her heart high enough so a loss didn’t wash away all she’d worked hard for.
One animal saved in this world by her hand was enough. Sure, she wanted to rescue hundreds, but wasting worry and precious time on wannabe intentions only drained her energy. In the past few years, she’d been able to find more balance in her life. Everything was exactly the way she’d dreamed it would be.
She was lucky her siblings had joined her in running the family business after their parents passed. When her brother and sister had found their soul mates, she was even more thrilled the ones they fell in love with had stayed in Gardiner, allowing them all to be together. Watching them pair up was a happy and bittersweet experience. The family table had nearly doubled, and she was the single one. Yes, she was lonely sometimes, but she’d never focused on finding a partner because she knew herself too well. Knew she was set in her ways, stubborn to a fault, and would pick an animal over people every time. In fact, the few short affairs she’d engaged in had ended with a jealousy over her job that had nowhere to go except Splitsville, USA.
She hadn’t been upset to see them go. Even with the benefits of sex, no man seemed to interest her further than a few weeks. It was as if she were built differently from other women. She was thirty-three years old and hadn’t experienced even a twinge of a ticking biological clock. No desire to try on white wedding dresses, or pick out baby names, or dream of a man who could complete her.
She was complete all by herself.
Which was why she didn’t need a strange voice rising up to threaten her perfect life. She didn’t want something new rolling her way. Lord knew she had enough work, enough security, and enough happiness as is. So Harper did the only thing left to do.
She told the annoying voice to go away.
The sun eventually rose, and the coffeepot diminished to dregs. The dogs jumped out of bed to greet her with their usual enthusiasm of licking tongues, wagging tails, and adoring gazes. Harper reset her mind to tackle the day ahead, and soon the strange premonition evaporated and it was business as usual on the farm with no surprises.
Just the way she liked it.
Something was coming.
Behind the cheerful sign welcoming him to the B & B, Aidan O’Connor stared up at the gleaming white and robin’s egg–blue house sprawled across several acres, framed against the stunning backdrop of the Shawangunk Mountains. He was tired, hungry, and didn’t smell so good after such a long trip—a nonwinning trifecta. The small town of Gardiner seemed like the perfect place to hide for a while, but his gut was stirring in a sudden, familiar way that screamed trouble.
He growled back at the voice in hopes of shutting it up. He didn’t care if it was a million-dollar opportunity or an adrenaline-spiked long shot ready to hit. He was done chasing dreams and primitive instincts with a burning hope that only ended up kicking him in the teeth.
His plan to explore the New York Hudson Valley region while visiting the States had seemed like a good idea when he left Ireland for a change of scenery and a desire to reinvent himself. He was at a crossroads in his career and needed to get his shit together. Needed a fresh start. Needed to let go of the past and accept he’d never control the actions of others, only his own. All those awful, canned expressions he used to laugh about had suddenly become true gospel for him.
Unfortunately, the past few months looking for new opportunities had only solidified his failure and bestowed upon him the gift of depression and burnout.
He was done. Done trying to find the perfect horse to train. Done trying to woo snobby owners and sleeping in crappy hotels and dealing with daily disappointment. Done traveling to endless racetracks to pimp himself out. His wallet was almost empty, along with his hopes.
He was here for a damn vacation and nothing more. This place looked just about perfect, reminding him of home, where cozy stone cottages welcomed visitors to Kildare with the promise of a good Irish breakfast; clean, damp air; and blinding-green scenery. The spring flowers were in vivid bloom, and an aura of charm and warmth seemed to surround the inn he’d chosen from TripAdvisor. So far, it looked like exactly what he needed. Peace and quiet. No people to bother him. A horse-rescue farm on the property where he could ride for pleasure, not work. From the number of farm stands he’d spotted along the way, he bet the food would be decent and fresh here, too. He was already burned out on processed airport fare and fast food.