Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
When we reached the breeding barns, I pointed to the different buildings, explaining the operation. “This is where the stallions are kept. The broodmares are housed farther down, closer to the foaling barns.”
Tommy nodded, clearly impressed. “It’s a hell of a setup. Similar to how we have things at Blackburn, but I’m sure I’m going to learn a thing or two.”
I let pride get the better of me. “Glenhaven is one of the top thoroughbred farms in Ireland. I sure hope ye can learn a thing or two.”
He studied my face thoughtfully. “The lady is displeased that I’m not more awed by the operation here. But how can you expect me to be when I’m so dazzled by your beauty, I can’t really see anything else?”
“Jaysus.” I snorted. “Did ye rehearse that in the mirror? If that’s yer best attempt at charm, ye might want to give it another go.”
The arrogant bastard smiled bigger, unperturbed. I opened my mouth to really lay into him because his audacity at flirting with me was so… so… well, it wasn’t working. That’s for sure.
“Fiona.”
I cringed, my shoulder hunching inward as I heard my father’s voice, and I was dismayed to see that Tommy noted my reaction. His frown quickly smoothed as we turned to face Seamus Conlan bearing down on us across a gravel parking lot outside the broodmare barn where we’d been talking.
My father approached, glancing to Tommy with a flicker of curiosity before settling on me.
“Fiona,” he said, his tone clipped. “What are ye doing?”
I straightened my spine, clasped my hands in front of me and called upon every reserve of etiquette I had left. “Uncle Rory asked me to give Mr. Blackburn a tour. He’s going to be staying at Glenhaven for the summer. Father… let me introduce ye to Tommy Blackburn of Blackburn Farms in Shelbyville, Kentucky.” I turned to look at Tommy. “My father, Seamus Conlan.”
Tommy squared his shoulders and offered his hand, which my father took because he’s a business professional. “Blackburn?” my father said with a frown. “I know a lot of people in Kentucky, but I don’t recognize yer name.”
“We breed the American Saddlebred, sir,” Tommy said as they shook.
Upon hearing that piece of information though—that the Blackburns had nothing to do with thoroughbreds—he dismissed Tommy as uninteresting and pulled his hand away.
Turning to me, he stared pointedly. “Yer fiancé will be here at seven. Be ready.”
My jaw locked so hard, I was afraid my teeth would crack. “He’s not my fiancé.”
“He’s as good as,” my da replied before he turned and walked away. I stared after him, frozen in both rage and disbelief that my father would say such a thing.
Sure, I’m playing his game by agreeing to go out with Brian, mainly to keep the peace, but I have no intention of marrying that man.
Tommy whistled low and I twisted my neck to look at him warily. “Well now,” he said with brows furrowed. “That was… weird.”
I let out a slow breath, leveling the glare I’d had pinned on my father to Tommy. “Weird doesn’t even begin to describe it,” I muttered.
“So, you’re getting married, huh?” His head tilted and as if by divine planning, there was a break in the clouds. The sun came out and although I knew it wouldn’t last long, I closed my eyes and tipped my head back to let the warmth caress my face. I prayed for patience with my father and to give me the strength to stand up to him when the time was right.
When I opened them again, I looked at Tommy. “No, I’m not getting married. I’m being forced to go on a date with someone my father wants me to marry. Big difference.”
Tommy stared at me, almost transfixed. I felt the intensity of it so keenly, I subconsciously rubbed at my face, thinking I had dirt on it. “What?”
His lips quirked upward, but he just stared at me.
“What are ye lookin’ at?” I rubbed at my cheek.
“Your eyes,” he said, bending slightly because he was quite a bit taller than me. He stared at me even harder. “I think they might be the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. They put the green pastures here in Ireland and back home in Kentucky to shame.”
My jaw dropped slightly and I couldn’t find it to dismiss such garbage, because… the way he looked at me told me he wasn’t just spouting off. He believed what he just said.
“Yer eyes are okay too,” I muttered, because if mine rivaled the verdant grass, his rivaled that peek of blue sky we can see through the parted clouds.
He grinned at me. “I’m relieved to know you’re not getting married.”
“Why would ye care?” I asked, turning to walk back to the training center. I was ready to drop off this impossibly gorgeous and all too charming rogue of a man and be done with his platitudes.