Free Pitch Black: A Romantic Thriller (Blackwood Security Book 1) by Elise Noble

doesn’t want a used rug. Besides, this colour doesn’t suit her.”
    “But you chose the colour,” the man said.
    “Well it was hard to tell the exact shade in the shop. But now she’s wearing it I can see it doesn’t suit her.”
    “She probably doesn’t realise that.”
    Ooh, wrong thing to say. I felt sorry for the guy as Portia’s voice rose an octave and the volume increased.
    “Well she might not know, but everyone else does, and they’ll think I’m a stupid colour-blind person who can’t even pick a rug that matches her horse. Sammy can’t wear it any more. Majesty and Gameela need new rugs as well, because if Sammy has one and they don’t they’ll think I love her more than them.”
    Impeccable logic there. I’m sure horses talked about things like that all the time when the humans were asleep.
    The poor bloke sighed and admitted defeat. “Okay, get them new rugs then. Just make sure they’re the right colour this time because you’re not buying more next week.”
    Now she’d got her own way, Portia’s voice turned sickly sweet. “Ooh, you’re the best brother ever.”
    The guy emerged from the stable, and there was a collective intake of breath from everyone except me. He breathed deeply himself, leaning against the wall outside Samara’s stable, his eyes closed. The set of his jaw and his clenched fists showed he was desperately trying to keep calm.
    I took the opportunity to get a good look at him. He was just over six feet tall, with tousled, dark blonde hair a couple of weeks past needing a cut, and a day’s worth of stubble. His jeans were either well-worn or expensive designer. It was hard to tell which these days.
    Bradley, who looked after my wardrobe, had presented me with a pair full of holes a while back and informed me they cost over a thousand dollars. I’d counted up—sixty dollars per hole. I told him to go with the cheap ones next time and I’d do the holes myself.
    Next time. A sigh escaped. When would that be?
    I shut down that wayward thought and looked back at Portia’s brother. He was only wearing a T-shirt and a beaten up leather jacket. Surely he must be freezing? Still, his lack of clothing let me get a good look at him, and I ran through my mental checklist. My rating? Not bad. I’d had better. I worked with better. In the department I ran, every day was Diet Coke Break day.
    I looked at the thermometer on the wall. Judging by the flushed faces around me, the temperature seemed to have risen by a couple of degrees, but the mercury remained steady. 
    While the rest of the girls gawked, I collected up the buckets and headed off to the feed room. I’d long since learned to see past people’s looks and judge them on what sort of person they were, so although I freely admitted the guy could have his own calendar, I didn’t stop to swoon.
    Before I reached my destination my stomach let out an almighty grumble, reminding me I’d skipped breakfast. I decided to nip inside and make myself something to eat before I carried on. I didn’t feel too guilty about it. After all, there were more than enough people on duty in my barn. The horses never got that much attention in the week, and some of them were looking downright confused by it all.
    Back in my trailer, I stuck two slices of bread in the toaster, and when they popped out, I covered them in butter and raspberry jam. Toby’s voice prattled on about the amount of saturated fat in the butter and the sugar content of the jam, but I ignored him. At least the bread was wholemeal, and I poured out a glass of orange juice to go with it. Having one of my five-a-day would offset the butter, right? 
    Hunger temporarily banished, I walked back towards the feed room. What were the chances of getting Portia’s brother to stop by every day so people would do all my work for me? I could get an extra hour in bed that way.
    The feed room was a converted stable, dingy because it didn’t have any windows. I flicked on the