That was when he fell completely in love with her.
It was her happy chatter, and the bounce in her step, and the icy eyes that shone like crystal. It was the backstory she’d shared and the dignity she showed and the fact that she’d been judged against a standard he’d used to date—and now wouldn’t be able to bear sitting across a dinner table from. It was the power in her body and the sharpness of her mind and—
Christ . . . he hadn’t even thought about the sex.
Ironic. She’d given him the orgasms of his life and they hadn’t even made the top of his I Love You Because list.
He guessed she was just that kind of spectacular.
“Whatever are you smiling for, Manuel,” Payne said. “Perhaps anticipating some future instance of my hand upon your derriere?”
“Yup. That’s exactly it.”
He pulled her in for another kiss—and tried to ignore the pain in his chest: No need to spoil the time they had with the good-bye that was waiting for them. That was going to come soon enough.
Besides, they’d nearly reached their destination.
“She’s over here,” he said, hanging a left and pushing into the recovery-stall area.
The instant the door opened, Payne hesitated, a frown appearing as whinnies and the occasional hoof stamping broke through the hayscented air.
“Farther down.” Manny tugged at her hand. “Her name’s Glory.”
Glory was the last one on the left, but the instant he said her name, her long, elegant neck stretched out and her perfectly proportioned head emerged from the top of her stall.
“Hey, girl,” he said. In response, she let out a proper greeting, her pointed ears pricking, her muzzle pumping the air.
“Merciful fate,” Payne breathed, dropping his hand and going forward ahead of him.
As she approached the stall, Glory tossed her head, her black mane flaring, and he had a sudden vision of Payne getting bitten. “Be careful,” he said as he broke into a jog. “She doesn’t like—”
The instant Payne put her hand on that silken muzzle, Glory went right in for more, bumping against the palm, seeking a proper cuddle.
“—new people,” Manny finished lamely.
“Hello, darling one,” Payne murmured, her eyes going over the horse as she leaned into the stall. “You are so beautiful . . . so big and strong. . . .” Pale hands found a black neck and stroked in a slow rhythm. “Why are her forelegs bandaged?”
“She broke the right one. Badly. About a week ago.”
“May I go inside?”
“Ah . . .” God, he couldn’t believe it, but Glory appeared to be in love, her eyes all but rolling back into her head as she got a good scratching behind the ears. “Yeah, I think it’ll be okay.”
He sprang the latch on the door and they both slipped in. And when Glory went to move back, she hobbled . . . on what had been her good side.
She’d lost so much weight that her ribs were showing like picketfence rails under her coat.
And he was willing to bet when the newness of her visitors dimmed, her burst of energy would fade fast.
The voice mail message from the
doctor had been all too apt: She was failing. That broken bone was healing, but not nearly fast enough, and the redistribution of mass had caused the layers of the opposite hoof to weaken and separate.
Glory extended her muzzle into his chest and gave him a quick shove. “Hey, girlie.”
“She is extraordinary.” Payne patted her way around the filly. “Just extraordinary.”
And now he had another thing on his conscience: Maybe bringing Payne here was not a gift, but a cruelty. Why introduce her to an animal who was likely going to be . . .