The Evolution of Man (The Trust Fund Duet 2)

“What? No.”

“Don’t tell me he forgot your anniversary.”

“It’s not that.” A notch forms between her eyebrows. “At least I don’t think so. I’m pretty bad with dates actually. It’s just that he’s been working so much lately. And traveling a lot.”

Unease moves through my stomach. “I thought he came with you to Tanglewood.”

She’s a graduate student at Smith College, working toward her doctorate, only here at the tail end of summer break. He’s a businessman with international investments. There are natural s

truggles to them being together, but they always seemed ridiculously happy. Always kissing and snuggling—and Gabriel is not the natural snuggling type.

He can’t seem to help himself with Avery. Or at least he couldn’t before.

“I’m sure it will be fine,” she says in a too-bright voice. “Besides, if he were here, he never would have let me come to the library. This place looks like it’s about to fall down on our heads.”

A bird flies in through the atrium above us, disturbing a few shards of the stained-glass window that used to protect us. They fall down with a long dive to the ground, landing in a pile of other rubble. Dust follows it down in a light flurry of exclamation. No, the building hasn’t gone unscathed from the wrecking ball. There are cracks in the very heart of it.

In fifth grade my friend had a birthday party at her family’s country house, where the stables were climate-controlled and the horses had elaborate braids in their manes. That place bears no resemblance to the massive stable behind the house, its doors wide open to welcome the sun, the packed ground somehow more comfortable than a glossy synthetic flooring. Horses stand in clean bays, watching me with lazy curiosity from their sideways eyes.

Another set of wide-open doors leads me back outside.

Paddocks link across the land as far as the eye can see, connected by high rustic wood gates and bristling with a kind of raw potential. This is a place where nature still holds her power, where man tests himself against her and sometimes loses.

A glint of light off metal. My gaze snaps to a large paddock at the base of a hill. I’m drawn toward it as if pulled by an invisible string, the thread made of reluctant excitement and a base female instinct to seek strength.

There’s a horse in the middle of the paddock, its body held taut, the stomp of its foreleg nervous. A pale blonde and white dappled coat makes her look otherworldly. I don’t have experience with horses beyond birthday parties and Renaissance fair pony rides, but there’s no doubt in my mind that this is still a wild animal—which means the man who wants to tame her is in danger. A free spirit doesn’t want to be broken.

Sutton strolls in a wide arc, his posture deceptively relaxed, his blue eyes alert on the animal penned in with him. His heather-gray T-shirt clings to his muscles, the back darker with sweat. Worn jeans sketch the powerful lines of his thighs better than a bespoke suit ever could.

“Whoa there,” he’s saying, his voice low and soothing. “I’m not going to hurt you, beautiful. You’re safe here. We’ll take as long as you need to believe it.”

God, no wonder this man can tame horses. I’m halfway pliant from hearing him murmur promises of safety and patience. There’s something unique about Sutton, a core of absolute sincerity, a sensation deep in my bones that I can trust him.

“Do the horses ever talk back?” I say, my voice soft. I’m careful not to make any sudden movements as I loop my arm over the thick plank of wood.

Sutton doesn’t seem the least surprised to hear me, which confirms my suspicion that he knew I was here. Even though he doesn’t take his eyes from the horse, his attention encompasses the whole of the paddock. The whole of the land. It encompasses me.

The corner of his mouth lifts. “Who says I was talking to the horse?”

That surprises a laugh out of me. Always this man can surprise me, beguile me. Tease me into wanting something I’ve told myself would never work. “How long have you had her?”

“A few months,” he says, taking another few steps to the side, coming an inch away from touching her before moving away. “But I’ve only just started taking her out. She had abrasions on her legs when I got her, and a lung infection that hadn’t been treated.”

Unease moves through my stomach as I look at the beautiful animal. She’s dangerous and strong… and healthy. It hurts to imagine her as anything else. And underneath the rebelliousness I sense the dark tinge of fear.

“Someone hurt her?”

“They neglected her,” he says, his voice flat. “Which is the same thing when she needs to be taken care of. A friend of mine found her in a stall with someone he was doing business with. Bought her because he couldn’t stand to see the conditions she was living in. Almost put her down before he thought to call me.”

Steel squeezes my heart. “Put her down?”

Sutton takes another few steps, passing close enough to touch her but choosing not to. The horse snorts her protest but doesn’t move away from him. It strikes me that this is a dance, the athleticism and grace unmistakable, purpose imbued into his every movement.

“It takes quite a bit of money to take care of a horse. Especially one who already has health problems. One who will still need to be broken.”

His matter-of-fact tone takes my breath away. Does he think about people that way, too? Does he think about me that way? “Is that how you see her?”

“Of course not. That’s why—”