“Ah, so you are visiting.”
“No, I live here now. I came yesterday, got this job today, and I’m moving in with my cousins next week. It’s all kind of wonderful.”
“You just came, from America to live here? I think you’re very brave.”
“I think I’m more lucky. It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?”
“Very beautiful. We live in Berlin, and work there. It’s very busy. This is quiet and . . . not busy. A good holiday.”
“Yes.” And an even better home, Iona thought. Her home.
* * *
BY THE TIME SHE’D RUBBED DOWN SPUD, PUT AWAY HER TACK, met the other staff on duty that day—Mick with his ready grin, whose oldest daughter turned out to be the waitress who’d served her dinner the night before—and helped feed and water the horses, Iona deemed it too late to visit Cong or the falconry school.
She approached Meara.
“I’m not really sure what my hours are.”
“Oh well.” Meara took a long drink from a bottle of orange Fanta. “I expect you didn’t plan to be working a full day, which you nearly have. Are you up for working tomorrow?”
“Sure. Absolutely.”
“I’d say eight’s good enough, but you’d best be checking with Boyle to be certain, as he may have put a schedule together. I’d think you could go on now, as Mick and Patty have things handled here, and I’ve got a private over at the big stables.”
“I’ll find him and see. Thanks, Meara, for everything.”
Going with the joy of the day, she wrapped her arms around Meara in a hug.
“I’m sure you’re welcome but I didn’t do anything, less than usual as it happens, as you did most of my sweaty work.”
“It felt good. It feels good here. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Have a good one, and my best to Branna and Connor when you see them.”
Iona checked the ring, then what Boyle called his office, backtracked, circled, and found him outside in the paddock having a stare-down with Alastar.
“He doesn’t think you like him.”
Boyle glanced back. “Then he’s an intuitive bastard.”
“But you do.” She boosted herself up to sit on the fence. “You like his looks and his spirit, and wonder how you can smooth his temper without breaking that spirit.”
She smiled when Boyle walked toward her. “You’re a horseman. There’s not a horseman alive who wouldn’t look at that magnificent animal and think just what I said. You irritate each other, but that’s because you’re both big and gorgeous and strong-willed.”
Feet planted, Boyle hooked his thumbs in his front pockets. “And that’s your conclusion after this brief acquaintance, is
it?”
“Yeah.” The sheer joy of her day sat on her like sunlight. She thought she could sit there for hours, in the cool, damp air, with the man and the horse. “You challenge each other, so there’s respect—and strategies brewing on both sides to work out how to come out on top.”
“As I’ll be riding him rather than the other way around, that’s already a conclusion.”
“Not altogether.” She sighed as she studied Alastar. “When I was little, I used to dream about having a horse like that—a big, bold stallion all of my own, one only I could ride. I guess most girls go through that equine fantasy stage. I never grew out of mine.”
“You ride well.”
“Thanks.” She glanced down at him, and realized it was a good thing she sat on the fence or she might have given him a hug as she had Meara. “It got me a job.”