I hurried to the stable block while Joe roared off in the horsebox. It was a pretty standard rescue call, but I wasn’t looking forward to seeing the state of the mare when he got back. I’d told Cole I was too sensitive to go out on rescue missions, but the truth was, I was too sensitive for all of it. It was no coincidence that I’d made myself indispensable with the maintenance work on the farm. That I lived at George’s place instead of taking a free room on site. I loved every horse more than life itself, but I couldn’t handle the path they’d trodden to find peace on Joe’s farm.
The emergency stall was at the end of the block. It was already clean, so I added extra bedding, food and water, and stacked blankets in the corner.
Then I retreated to the house and shut the door behind me. Joe’s dry clothes called my name. I found them on the kitchen table, and even better, I found Angelo too, standing at the stove, stirring something that smelled like heaven. “You’re back.”
Angelo turned slowly and gave me a tired smile. His face was pale and his eyes hooded, but it didn’t make him any less pretty. He was probably the hottest of Harry and Joe’s hot friends and, conversely, the least intimidating, which made him my favourite.
I gave him a hug and for once I didn’t blush.
Angelo returned my embrace, then pushed me away. “You’re all wet.”
Fuck. I’d forgotten about that. I took a closer look at the stack of clothes on the table. They were too nice to be Joe’s and way too small to be Harry’s. “Are these yours?”
“I saw you out of the window from the bungalow and figured you’d need them.”
“Didn’t think it was Joe.”
Angelo laughed. “To be fair, he was about to go and fetch you some. I just got there first.”
“Are you better? It’s been ages since you last came in the house.”
“I’m good, Tobes. Don’t worry about me.”
Easier said than done, but my wet clothes distracted me from hassling Angelo about things he didn’t want to talk about.
I stripped my soggy T-shirt off and let it fall to the floor.
Angelo sighed and stooped to retrieve it, dropping stiffly to one knee at my feet. “Bet you leave wet towels all over the bathroom too.”
I poked out my tongue. “Why would I do that when I’m the only one who’d pick them up?”
“Am I interrupting something?”
One day, Cole’s low, rumbling voice wouldn’t make me jump a fucking mile. Today was not that day. I snatched the T-shirt Angelo had left me to cover myself, dragging it over my head so fast I almost gave myself a nosebleed. “Uh. No. I just got wet in the yard.”
“So I see.” Cole’s expression was unreadable.
Angelo made a sound I couldn’t decipher, and it took me a full six seconds to realise he was torn between amusement at who-the-fuck-knew what and frustration that he was struggling to get up.
Cole came to his senses first. He crossed the kitchen in one long, elegant stride and helped Angelo to his feet.
Angelo nodded his thanks and sank into the nearest chair. “Cole, right?”
“Yup.”
“You took over my Pilates classes.”
Recognition dawned in Cole’s face. He finally smiled and shook Angelo’s outstretched hand. “Sorry, mate. Should’ve figured. The ladies at the back have described you to me in great detail. More than once.”
Angelo cringed. “I know exactly who you mean. They’re probably the only clients I don’t miss.”
“If it’s any consolation,allyour clients miss you. I don’t think I’m as much fun.”
“Probably because you don’t need to take a nap halfway through each class.”
“You don’t do that,” I protested. “You sit down sometimes. It’s no big deal.”
Angelo’s grunt was non-committal. He hauled himself to his feet and shuffled back to the stove.