His Unexpected Baby Bombshell. Сорейя ЛейнЧитать онлайн книгу.
SMILED AT his granddad and walked over to the young colt. The animal’s nostrils were flared, body rigid as he approached him.
“Keep your hands down. Don’t touch him until he touches you first.”
Ben listened to him, and followed his instructions. More and more he was realizing that his grandfather’s instincts were always right. He’d argued with the trainers he worked with overseas until he was blue in the face, and he’d been tired of their old-fashioned attitudes. Some trainers liked to force horses into submission, but that wasn’t something they did at McFarlane Stables. Just because half the polo trainers out there thought they were crazy for practicing natural horsemanship didn’t mean he was going to change their approach. And it was one of the reasons he’d finally had enough of being overseas, one of the reasons he’d finally broken ties with the guys he’d loved working alongside for so long to come home.
“Good. Once he turns his head in, pat him and then move the rope over his neck.”
Ben did as he was told. The horse responded to him, moving quietly, but all hell broke loose once the rope was over.
“Keep hold, even if he goes right out to the end.”
A damp line of sweat graced his forehead, but he kept hold. This was the only rough part of the exercise and he hated it, but if he got it right this time, it wouldn’t need to be done again. Because animals and force were not two words he liked used in the same sentence.
The horse stopped bucking and rearing and came to a halt, eyeing him cautiously from a small distance.
“Good boy.” He said the words softly before approaching him again. “What a good fella.”
“Give him a pat and then put the halter on him,” his granddad called out.
Ben moved forward, smiling at the horse as he stood calmly. He gave him a scratch behind the ear and then lifted the halter, rubbing his sweet spots as he did so.
Nice and gentle, Ben reminded himself, reaching up and folding the leather strap over the horse’s nose and behind his pricked ears. The horse stood still, ears flickering as he listened to him, accepting what was happening.
Ben stood back and grinned. Working with his grandfather for just one morning was worth having come home for.
“Good job, son. Well done.”
He gave the horse one final pat and then opened up the gate out of the yard, letting him canter off over to the other young stock. Ben moved toward his granddad, pleased to see the smile on his weathered face.
“It’s in your blood, always has been, always will be.”
His granddad’s voice was strong and deep, but the slap he gave Ben on his shoulder wasn’t as powerful as it used to be; his gnarled, weathered hands failing him after years of hard work. Gus McFarlane was a strong man, the kind of man who was used to commanding attention when he wanted it, but he was deteriorating fast. There was something the old man wasn’t telling him, he just knew it.
“So have you been coping okay? On your own I mean?”
Gus used a cane, walking slowly over the grass. Mind as sharp as a tack, but the body just not keeping up. Guilt washed over Ben—he’d been so desperate to leave Australia and follow his own dreams, but now that he was back he was seriously regretting leaving his granddad for so long.
“You ever hear from the Stewart girl?”
Ben’s body went rigid. “Rebecca? Yeah, well, sort of. I mean, I went to see her when I got back.” He tried to sound nonchalant. “Yesterday, actually.”
“Great girl that one. You should have married her, you know that, right?”
Yeah, he knew. But Bec was...well, Bec. It was never that he hadn’t been attracted to her, or that he hadn’t wanted her, but he’d always known he could never give her enough and he still couldn’t. Settling down with a nice girl just hadn’t been part of his plan, what he’d imagined for himself, because he’d always been focused on what he wanted. And now that he didn’t have polo, he was at more of a loss about what he wanted from life than he’d ever been.
“She gave up returning my emails a long time ago, Granddad.” He wasn’t going to let Rebecca off the hook, not when he was getting the look from the old man. The fact their friendship had fallen by the wayside was as much her fault as it was his. “And we were only friends, you know that. Nothing more.” His granddad didn’t need to know they’d spent a night together, and that’s all it had been—one night, not a relationship.
“Great little rider, that one. Hard worker and a good seat in the saddle. Not to mention darn nice to look at.”
“Yup,” Ben agreed.
“Bring her out here sometime. I’ve a filly that needs to be ridden by a woman, and there ain’t none of them out here anymore.”
Ben thought about Bec, about having her out here again. Would she even come if he asked her to? Four years hadn’t quelled his desire for her, but things had changed, heck, she’d changed.
“She won’t have ridden in a long time.” He doubted she’d make the trip. “And I’m not sure we’re on the best terms.” It had been awkward between them the other day, even if he had enjoyed seeing her again.
Gus stopped then, resting heavily on his cane.
“Don’t matter how long it’s been, because a woman like her? She’s a natural, just like you.” He chuckled. “And unless she’s already married, don’t be a quitter, son. You don’t give up on her if she’s what you want.”
Ben cleared his throat. His grandfather was unbelievable—he’d only been home a few days and already he was giving him advice on his love life.
“I haven’t got long now, doc said maybe only six months. I’m not gonna beat the cancer this time, son.” He shrugged. “Tell Rebecca I want to see her. What kind of girl would say no to a dying old man, huh?”
It was his turn to give Gus a slap on the shoulder. Thinking about his granddad dying was not something Ben wanted to give in to, and if the old man wanted Rebecca, then who was he to say no?
“We’ll be right, Granddad. Cancer won’t beat you.”
But it would and they both knew it.
* * *
“Table six! No menus yet.”
Rebecca hurried to the kitchen as the bell dinged. She hated keeping her customers waiting, especially the regulars she saw seated at her tables every week.
“Phone for you, Bec.”
“Take a message,” she hollered back.
“Sure?”
She gave the young waiter a hard stare and he shrugged. Who the hell would be calling her during a lunch shift?
She placed the empty plates down and hurried out back.
“It wasn’t about Lexie was it?” She regretted her sharp tone and gave the young guy a smile.
“Nah, someone called Ben. Said you’d know how to get in touch.”
The name hit her like a thump to her lungs. Ben. Why was he calling here? She glanced around, saw that everything was under control and stepped back from the counter. “I’m taking ten,” she called out, heading out the back door, suddenly desperately in need of fresh air and sunlight.
She ignored the noise of the city, the streets filled with all kinds of people rushing back and forward, and took a deep breath, pulling her mobile from her pocket. She should have ignored his call, stopped thinking about what she’d had with Ben before he left, but it was an impossible task and she knew it.
Seeing Ben had reminded her, what they were both missing out on, of how nice it would be to have