LITMIR.BIZ

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a long day on no sleep and an empty stomach.”

      Betty smiled but her eyes were puffy. Dark circles hovered beneath them and a red tinge lined her lashes.

      Amy winced, a lump rising in her throat. Betty had probably stayed up half the night, too. Worrying and weeping. And she’d been the cause of it.

      “Thank you, Mama.” Amy hugged her close, murmuring near her ear, “I’m not going anywhere yet, you know?”

      Betty sighed, squeezing her tight. “I know. I’m glad to have you home for however long you’re able to stay.” She pulled back and smiled. “I’m happy about your new job and I’ll help in whatever way I can. For now, let’s just have a great Christmas together, okay?”

      Amy grinned, the pressure easing in her chest. “Yes, ma’am.”

      Betty looked at Logan. “Dominic and Pop said they’d handle the trail rides for you today. So make sure you eat, too, before getting started.”

      Logan dipped his head and winked. “Yes ma’am.”

      Betty left, calling over her shoulder, “I gotta get back to the kitchen. Sun’s coming up and there’s a hungry crowd of guests that needs to be fed.”

      Amy tugged at Traci’s arm as she turned to leave. “You’re still gonna help me out with Thunder, right?”

      Traci’s brows rose. “Do you want me to?”

      “Of course. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Amy placed the foiled sandwiches in Traci’s hand. “Can you do me a favor and hold on to these? I need to change out of these clothes before we get started, then you can watch me work on getting Thunder out of the stall.” She laughed. “Or, at least, try getting him out. Do you think you can round up a couple sticks and strings? We’ll need a rope, too.”

      Traci beamed. “No problem.”

      Amy changed into a gray hoodie, jeans and boots then joined Logan and Traci outside. The strong morning sun had broken out above the horizon and burned off the frost from last night. The air turned warmer and the wind less fierce. Amy tilted her head back and pushed up her sleeves, absorbing the heat.

      Figured. Georgia weather was unpredictable at best. It could be thirty degrees at night then spring back to seventy by noon. She’d learned a long time ago to just take it as it came.

      She, Logan and Traci took up residence on the white fence lining the paddock. They lingered over the sweet and salty breakfast Betty had provided, watching the horses stroll across the dormant brown grass of the fields. The pleasant chatter of guests sounded and, soon, Raintree’s grounds were speckled with visitors, all soaking up the pleasant late–November day.

      After eating, Logan brought the hose around and they scrubbed their hands under the spray, cleaning the traces of grease and sweet aroma of the sandwiches away. The fewer strange smells introduced to Thunder, the better.

      Amy brought the hose to her mouth, swallowing a few gulps of the water, the metallic taste of the nozzle clinging to her tongue. Logan followed suit, splashing the spray over his face and rasping his palms over the stubble lining his jaw. The thick muscles of his shoulders and back rippled beneath the tight pull of his shirt with each movement.

      Amy’s palms itched at the display, a deep longing to smooth her hands over his broad shoulders and weave her fingers through the dark waves of his hair overwhelming her. She turned away and faced Traci.

      “Did you round up everything?”

      “Yep.” Traci handed the items to her. “Rope, sticks and strings, just like you asked for.”

      Amy thanked her and attached strings to two of the training sticks.

      “You ready?” Logan asked, turning off the faucet and shaking his hands dry.

      Amy nodded, handed Logan the rope and one of the sticks then led the way into the stable. Her heart tripped in her chest.

      A finger threaded through her back belt loop and tugged. She stopped and looked over her shoulder. Logan’s eyes peered into hers, the sensual curve of his lips pressing into a firm line.

      “Go easy, Amy,” he said.

      She swallowed hard, ignoring the warm flutter in her belly, and walked to the back of the stable to stand in front of Thunder’s stall. The stallion pinned his ears and tossed his head back, nostrils flaring on sharp pulls of air.

      Amy’s thighs trembled. The shaking traveled down her knees to her shins, leaving her lower half weak and unstable.

      “Easy,” Logan repeated.

      He stood a few feet away, a tic appearing in his jaw. Traci hovered behind him.

      Amy waited as Logan prepared his rope, studying the movements of his strong hands. The thick, twisted fibers seemed like such a weak support against a frightened, thousand-pound animal. She closed her eyes and placed her hand on the latch of Thunder’s stall.

      LOGAN MOVED CLOSE to the stall, keeping an eye on Thunder as he whipped the rope overhead and lassoed him. The stallion cried and kicked the wall with his back hooves, thrashing against the pull of the rope.

      “It’s okay, boy,” Amy murmured.

      Thunder stopped at the sound of her voice, pinned his ears back and pawed the ground. Logan’s throat closed.

      “Go wait for us outside, Traci.” Logan firmed his hold on the rope, then nodded after Traci left. “Let him out.”

      Amy unlatched the stall and pulled it open, raising her arms and directing Thunder’s feet toward the exit. The stallion backed away, jerking wildly, but eventually exited with her encouragement.

      It took several minutes to maneuver Thunder out of the stable and into the round pen. Logan removed the rope and let him buck around the pen until he settled down and drew to a halt on one side.

      Amy moved toward the entrance of the pen, her tender expression causing Logan’s mouth to run dry.

      “He’s not like you remember, Amy. He’s aggressive now. Likes to dive and bite. You have to start hard and end hard.” Logan lifted his training stick, jiggling the string and motioning toward hers. “Use that thing on him if you need to.”

      She frowned. “I’ve never whipped a horse and I won’t start now.”

      Logan shook his head. “I’ve never done it, either. But the last time I tried to work with him, he almost forced me into a position where I had no choice.”

      “This time will be different,” she said, walking to the gate.

      He bit back a curse. “How you figure?”

      She stopped and faced him. “Because you have help. We’re doing this together.”

      Together. Logan glanced away, focusing on Thunder and ignoring the pleasurable tingle sweeping through him. There was no room for distractions in that pen.

      He cleared his throat. “We start hard and we end hard.”

      Amy opened the gate and they entered, walking to the center of the round pen. Thunder pinned his ears and pawed the ground, dipping his head and snaking it from side to side as if to attack. Logan immediately threw his left hand up and whipped his training stick behind Thunder’s heels, lashing the ground with the string.

      “Move,” he shouted.

      Thunder started then ran left, making it halfway around the pen before he stopped. Amy stepped in, striking her stick against the ground behind him and forcing him forward. Thunder balked, rearing and spinning his back to her.

      Amy slapped the ground with the stick again, regaining Thunder’s attention. She pointed in the air and shouted, “Right.”

      Thunder

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