The two horses had settled and were sharing space without trying to maim each other. Aidan had retreated, his leg propped up on the fence, elbow resting on the post, keeping his sharp gaze on the horses.
Damn, he was magnificent.
She must’ve said the words aloud, because Ethan nodded in agreement. “Yep. One hell of a horse.”
Thank God he didn’t realize she meant the man.
“Aidan’s got something special,” Ethan said thoughtfully. “A gift with horses.”
“Like you. Remember how we used to call you the horse whisperer?”
He grunted. “Sure, I got the glory for stepping in at the right time, but you’re the one with the real gift, Harp. You remind me of him, actually.”
“Who?”
He jerked his head toward the pasture. “Aidan.”
Her heart stopped, then resumed in a crazy rhythm. “Just because we both like horses?”
“No. Because you both see people and animals for who they really are. The only other person I know like that was Mom.”
Surprise flickered. “Ophelia was always the most like Mom. She’s the one who runs the inn and likes guests and bakes homemade scones.”
Ethan grinned. “But you’re the one who kept her real passion alive. Don’t you know it was always about the horses? She would’ve done that full time, if possible.” His cell rang and he glanced at it. “Gotta go. Have to meet Mia.” He squeezed her shoulder in a quick goodbye and walked away.
Harper sifted through her brother’s words. A faint smile curved her lips. Yes, she liked the idea of continuing her mother’s legacy. Maybe Ethan was right. Mom had loved going to the barn late at night. Harper once caught her singing to the horses, and when she asked about it, her mother said she didn’t want them to have bad dreams. She had loved to ride whenever possible and been fiercely protective of all the furry residents on the farm.
Maybe her mother had also dreamed of owning a racehorse.
Maybe they’d been more alike than Harper ever had believed.
The thought danced in her mind while she watched the horses graze in the pasture, finally at peace.
Chapter Eight
“I’m Elmo.”
Harper dropped her gaze. She’d expected small—she’d been around jockeys before—but her height only made the contrast between them more daunting.
His hair was dark and cropped close to his head. Brown eyes regarded her steadily, slanted slightly at the corners, reflecting little emotion. His lips were firmed, and his legs and arms seemed to dangle next to his body. His cheek was swollen and bruised, like he’d just gotten into a fistfight before heading to the farm. He wore black riding pants, boots, and a short-sleeved red jersey.
Harper stuck out her hand. “Harper Bishop. It’s nice to meet you.”
He shook with a strong grip, nodded, and turned to Aidan. “Where is the horse?”
Aidan jerked his head toward the barn. “In the pasture, ready to meet you. Want to get settled in your room first? We can talk and grab some lunch.”
“Not hungry.” Without another word, he tucked his head down and walked out to the field with a determined stride.
She shot Aidan a look. “He’s a chatterbox.”
Aidan quirked a brow. “That was a big conversation for Elmo. Come on. It’s all up to him now.”
She trotted after Aidan. “How will he decide if he wants the job?”
Aidan snorted. “He’s extremely . . . unconventional. It’s all about the energy for him. If he doesn’t like the aura around the horse, or if there’s a negative spirit, he’ll just leave.”
“Negative spirit? Within the horse?”
“Yep. He’s very superstitious and picky. He’s difficult to deal with, but if he believes in the horse, he’s one of the best. I think it will be a match.”
Her mouth dropped open. “What if he deems poor Phoenix has a negative energy?”
Aidan shrugged. “Then we’re screwed.”
She blinked. “Tell me you’re kidding.” When he remained silent, she groaned. “Are you telling me you don’t have another jockey on standby?”
“Elmo is plan A, plan B, and standby. There’s no one I’d trust more with an emotional type of horse like Phoenix. We have to hope they like each other.”
“Phoenix rarely likes anybody.”
“Maybe Elmo will find him a challenge.”
She blew out a breath in frustration. “It can’t be that hard to find another jockey if Elmo says no.”
Aidan shook his head. “Jockeys prefer to work with trained horses and build a name for themselves. Injury is always a possibility with a green horse, and Phoenix has a bit of a temper with an abusive past. Basically, he’s got tons of baggage. You’ve never had a racehorse, so you have no reputation to sell. And though I’m well known, my wins have all been Irish horses. We don’t have much to offer, love. Elmo knows me. He’s patient, experienced, and he can usually reach a difficult horse. So start praying they get along.”
She smothered another groan as their situation suddenly became violently, sharply, crystal clear.
Phoenix was grazing on his midmorning snack. The jockey approached, stopped a few inches away from the horse, and stared.
Phoenix curled back his lips in his legendary sneer, pricked up his ears, and went back to his food.
Elmo dropped to the ground in front of the horse, crossed his legs, and didn’t move.
Harper expected some type of skilled approach, hand gestures, or anything that looked like he was bonding. Instead, Phoenix continued to ignore him, and Elmo continued to wait.
Owen walked over and did a double take. “Wow, a real live jockey, huh? What’s he doing?”
“Bonding with Phoenix,” Harper said.
Owen glanced back and forth between them. “Looks like he’s taking a squat and doing nothing to me.”
Aidan grunted.
Finally, Phoenix stopped chewing and began to check out his new visitor with a bit of pique. He took a few steps toward Elmo and pawed the ground, showing off.
Harper winced. Probably a bad sign. Maybe Elmo would mistake the horse’s fiery personality for a demon, and they’d have to scramble to look for another jockey who wanted to take a chance on a green horse from an unknown stable with an owner with no previous races under her belt. Her palms began to sweat, and she wiped them down her jeans.
Elmo stretched out his legs in front of him. Rested his hands flat on the ground behind his back, propping himself up. And kept waiting.
So they all waited.
Harper had no idea how many minutes ticked by. Her nerves jumped, and she curled her hands into loose fists to keep from chewing on her thumb.
Finally, Phoenix seemed to be so annoyed by the visitor who made no sound and sat in his territory, the horse leaped in a menacing manner, as if to physically herd Elmo away.
The jockey never flinched.
After more time went by, Phoenix walked up close and sniffed, baring his teeth.
Harper’s heart sank. She cupped her hands and raised her voice. “Umm, Elmo, if you give him a chance, you’ll see he just needs time to get comfortable with you. I think—”
“Shush,” Aidan whispered, grabbing her hand. “He needs silence.”