“If you think I'll stay in your house after you killed my father, Ned Granger, you're crazy.” Summer Langston folded her arms across her chest and glared.

“I think that's a bit of an overstatement.” Ned stood with his back to the screen door, white Stetson held loosely in one tanned hand.

“Well, I don't. When you told him he couldn't work with the yearlings anymore, it broke his heart. You might as well have shot him.”

“I'm sorry, Summer.”

“Sorry . . . I bet you are. He was the best trainer you ever had.” Tears filled her green eyes. She turned her face way.

In the quiet house, the ticking of the kitchen clock sounded like a blacksmith's hammer striking a metal shoe. Summer tried to control her tears. How could things have gone so wrong? The move to Golden Oaks had seemed like the answer to a prayer. A wonderful old house to live in, top ranked yearlings to train, and a chance to try the breeding experiments that had been her father's dream.

Ned broke the silence. “I know you blame me, but Sam's drinking was way out of control. I had to do what I thought was right for the farm. I hoped he'd take it as a sign and get help.”

“He could have gotten treatment and stayed on.” Summer raked a hand across her eyes. “He loved those horses. They were his whole life.” She wanted to grab the tall man in front of her, and flail her fists at his broad chest until he felt the same pain she did.

“Be fair. Candyman colicked and nearly died because Sam left the stall door open, and he got into the grain bin. I couldn't put any more horses at risk.”

“Maybe Sam didn't leave the door open. Maybe Candyman got it open.”

“Face facts, Summer, your father may have been the best Standardbred trainer I ever worked with, but he was an alcoholic. He was drunk most of the time this fall. You should know. You were running the stable.”

Summer stared out the window twisting one of her fiery curls around her finger. The farmhouse window offered a view of green fields dotted with prize winning Standardbred horses. Ned worked hard to make his farm one of the best. She didn't want to believe her father had decided to drink himself to death and put the reputation of the farm at risk. Someone else had to be responsible. Ned was responsible. She was responsible. They could have done more. Tears trickled from the corners of her eyes.

“I didn't ask him to leave.” Ned stepped closer. “I did make it clear that he couldn't work with the horses until he got into a treatment program. I thought you knew.” He dropped the Stetson on the table and reached out a hand as if to draw her close and comfort her.

Summer stepped away, putting the oak table between them. She couldn't bear to have Ned touch her. He'd let Sam down; he'd let her down. “You could have tried harder.”

“I'm sorry you feel that way.” Ned reached for the white Stetson. “I did the best I could.”

Outside, an engine roared, a door slammed, and Summer heard the tramp of heavy boots on the wooden porch. The screen door swung wide. A tall, broad shouldered man with curly, dark brown hair strode into the room. “Thought I might find you here.”

Summer fought down the frisson of excitement Davis always generated in her. “Where else would I be? I live here.” She let her eyes drift around the familiar room. “At least I live here for the moment.”

“That's good enough.” The dark man crossed the floor in two steps, grabbed her, and pulled her close. “I came as soon as I heard.”

Against her better judgment, Summer relaxed into his embrace. His strong arms made her feel protected. “I'm glad you came.”

“I know it hurts. I loved the old guy, too.”

They stood silently for a moment. Then Davis released her. “So what got your temper up? I could hear you yelling all the way across the yard.”

“You couldn't possibly have heard. You just got here.”

“That's better.” Davis grinned. “Well, maybe I only heard you from the porch, but when I see those red cheeks, I know someone's gettin' cussed.”

Summer stamped her foot. “I wasn't cussing.”

Davis looked at Ned standing stiffly beside the table. “That right?”

“I wouldn't call it cussing exactly.”

“All right, Irish, just tell me what's going on.”

Before she could speak, Ned said, “I offered my sympathy and told her she didn't have to rush to move.” His brilliant blue gaze rested on Summer. “I'd be happy to help any way I can. I'd like to make it up to you in some way.”

“I think Summer's got friends who can take care of her.” Davis put a protective arm around her shoulders.

“I'm sure she does. Are you planning to have her move in with you?”

“If she wants to.”

Summer shook off the heavy arm. “I'm not moving in with anyone. I'll find my own place.”

“What are you going to do?” The men spoke in unison.

“I'm not sure. Dad left me some horses. I guess I'll try my hand as first trainer instead of assistant.”

Ned said, “That's a tough row.”

“Dad did it. I guess I can, too.”

“And she has some real friends to help her.” Davis stepped closer.

Ned clenched his fists crumpling the brim of his hat.“I can see that.”

Summer placed her hands on her hips and glared. “I don't need you two to tell me how to run my life. I've got resources. I've had an offer for Meadow.”

Ned's frowned. “I think you've got a winner in that mare. Who had the good taste?”

“Max Shiller.”
“Max? You can't be serious about selling to that crook.”

“My thought exactly. I don't plan to sell to Max . . . or anyone else.”

“What are you going to do with her? I wasn't kidding.” Ned brushed back the lock of blond hair that persisted in falling across his forehead. “She looks like a champion, not to mention her broodmare potential. I'd like to buy her. Your dad thought her bloodlines were just what we needed in a foundation mare.”

“I know what Dad thought. He was probably right.” She narrowed her eyes and looked directly at Ned. “When I said I wasn't going to sell to anyone else, I meant it. You men are all the same. Max wants to run her legs off, drug her, and probably ruin her. You want her for your precious foundation mare and don't want to give her a chance to race. I think she's better off with me.”

“You're planning to train her yourself?”

“Maybe.”

“You know she's got to be staked. And staked well.”

“That fact hadn't escaped me.”

“I know you're upset with me. You probably hate me, but I would like to help. I do want Meadow for a broodmare, and I understand the breeding game. She'll be more valuable if she races. I could provide the stakes money . . . We could be business partners.”

“Like you were with my father?”

“I said you probably hate me, but this is business. Think about it, Summer.”

“She doesn't need your money.” Davis glared. “I told you she has friends. I can find her some backers.”

“Like Max Shiller.”

“Look here, Granger.” Davis took a step toward him. His large hands balled into fists. “I drive for some very reputable people. I got friends who can put together a syndicate to race Meadow.”

“And who's going to manage the syndicate? You?”

“I said I got friends.”

“That's enough.” Summer stepped between the two men. “Meadow is my horse. I'll be the one to decide what happens to her.”

The men continued to glare at each other.

“Look, I don't want to decide anything right now. Ned, you've said your piece. I don't want to take your offer. Frankly, I don't ever want to see you again, but I'm not stupid. Business is business. It's just too soon.”

“I'm sorry. I came over to apologize and to tell you how much I cared about your dad.” He offered his hand. “I guess I made a mess of it.”

The outstretched hand hung between them. Summer ignored it. “You did what you had to do. I'll vacate the house as soon as possible.”

“And I'll help her,” Davis said. “You don't need to be concerned.”