Free Battle for the Soldier's Heart by Cara Colter Page B

“Littering? I think that kid would laugh at the concept that that was a bad thing to do. He’s pretty streetwise. Anyway, they were camped in an area off Bixby Road about six kilometers this side of
Grumbly. The property was clearly marked No Trespassing. I don’t think they had permission to be there. There was a creek to water the horses, but I didn’t see much in the way of grass, and I didn’t see any hay.”
    “The ponies looked fat to me.”
    “Yeah. Unfortunately, horses who aren’t on a proper parasite-control program can look fat. That’s called worm belly. Also from eating poor-quality feed. That’s called hay belly.”
    “You’re telling me the horses were hungry.” Or full of worms. Way more than he’d ever wanted to know about an equine’s belly.
    “I think they were hungry. That’s why they broke loose at the park and were so hard to catch.”
    Rory did not want to get involved in this. And yet how could he not be involved? If the horses were hungry, chances were the kid was, too.
    He hung up the phone, frowning, and not just because his soda-pop-can plan had failed, either. He glanced at the window. Grace had disappeared from sight.
    He could just call the authorities. There were people whose job it was to look after things like this and he was not one of those people. But even though he couldn’t see Gracie, it seemed like just being around her required him to be a better man.
    He sighed and called Bridey.
    “Mr. Adams, sir. ”
    “I need some good-quality hay delivered to some ponies. And a couple of days’ worth of groceries for a kid and his mom. I need you to track down a landowner and get permission to use his land. Offer him whatever it takes to get that permission. You can use Slim again to deliver the food and the hay. He knows the situation and the location.”
    He hung up and glanced again at the window.
Gracie was back in view, wearing a huge white robe, and peering at a rack of bathing suits as if it were the enemy. Her tongue, as she flipped rapidly through hangers, was caught between her teeth in fierce concentration. Obviously she was torn between being a stick-in-the-mud and shocking the hell out of him.
    He hoped she would be a stick-in-the-mud and at the same time he didn’t hope that at all. He was not used to being a man divided. He was used to being a man who knew exactly what he wanted.
    Rory sighed, aware he did not want Gracie Day to know anything that he had just found out about Tucker and Serenity. If ever there would be a sucker for starving ponies, it would be her. Throw in the kid and that remote possibility that Tucker was Graham’s, and she’d be mortgaging her business to save them.
    He had no choice. He had to protect her. And the catch? She could never know he was protecting her.
    * * *
    Break loose, Gracie.
    Those words echoed in Gracie’s head as she studied the bathing-suit rack. How could a girl back down from a challenge like that? How could any woman in the world not rise to the bait? She needed to show him he had it all wrong.
    That she was no stick-in-the-mud.
    She selected a navy-blue tank-style, planning to defy his instruction to break loose. She held it up, studied it, silently declared it perfect. The matching bathing cap, with its huge plastic rose over the ear was a little silly, but the bathing suit would definitely do.
    Except that it wouldn’t. As soon as Grace took it to the change room and tried it on, she knew it was all wrong. The bathing suit, on, while definitely practical, made her look about as sexy as a refrigerator box. Just the kind of suit a stick-in-the mud would choose in a pinch!
    So, going way out of her comfort zone, she wrapped herself in the robe provided by the shop and peeked out of the change room.
    She could see Rory sitting on a bench on the open-air walkway, talking on his cell phone, comfortable in his new swim trunks, looking at the lake.
    Life was so unfair sometimes! When a guy needed a bathing suit, he