She paused at Lindsay’s room and knocked lightly. When she heard no response, she opened the door. The bedside lamp was on, but her sister’s bed was empty. Lindsay had probably gone to that new club she’d mentioned at dinner. Abby decided she’d have to wait until tomorrow to ask her about the phone call from Jesse. Not that she didn’t believe that part of his story. It would be just like Lindsay to throw cold water on any attempt a man might make to contact Abby. Things may have turned out very differently if she’d have taken down Jesse’s number and told Abby to call him.

Sighing, she left her sister’s room and went to her own. She undressed and put on her pale-green nightshirt, then lay back on her bed, knowing she was too churned up to sleep. More tears struggled to be freed from behind her eyes at the onslaught of the bittersweet memories being with Jesse again had evoked, but Abby ruthlessly blinked them away. She’d cried all she was going to over Jesse.

But once begun, she couldn’t help remembering the shy, introverted girl she’d been six years ago, feeling very much in the shadow of her older, sophisticated and confident sister.

She’d been so young, not yet twenty, but already finished with her junior year at Arizona State, having skipped a grade in high school. She felt comfortable with books and learning, almost as much as she enjoyed being with the horses. Casey had taught her to ride at six and she’d turned out to be a natural, able to ride like the wind. She’d spent hours in the barn, grooming her favorite horses, giving them treats and talking softly to each one. She didn’t mind that her interests were mostly solitary because she didn’t feel as socially adept as Lindsay or even her mother. With books and horses, she felt the confidence that eluded her with people.

Until Jesse showed up the week she’d come home for summer break.

She’d noticed him in the barn that first time. Most of the men came in from a long day in the saddle on the range and handed their horses over to the two young grooms before heading straight for the mess hall. Not Jesse.

Standing by one of the far stalls, she watched him rub down his mount, talking to the stallion all the while. It was beastly hot so he’d taken off his shirt. Wearing jeans and scuffed boots, his damp chest gleaming from his exertion, he looked like the pictures of James Dean that Abby had seen, only with dark hair. There was a restless energy about him, a devil-may-care look in his impossibly blue eyes. Yet he was gentle with the horse, revealing a soft side.

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