“Oh, I need a lot of things.” Casually, he draped an arm around Max’s neck. “A hot meal, a fast car, the love of a good woman—but what we both need is a couple of mousers.”

“Excuse me?”

“You need some barn cats, Laura. You got rodents.”

“Oh, God.” She shuddered once, blew out a breath. “I should have realized that, too. We used to keep some when we had horses, but Peter—” She broke off, shut her eyes. No, she was not traveling down that road again. “I’ll be making a trip to the pound, it seems. I’ll get a couple of cats.”

“You’re going to get your kid a dog from the pound?”

“And why not?”

“No reason.” He led Max toward the fence. “Figured you for the purebred type, that’s all. That’s the way some people are about horses. They want Arabians, Thoroughbreds. I’ve got me one of the prettiest fillies you could want in that stable. She’s smart as a whip and quick as a snake. She’s what you’d call a mongrel, though. Always liked mongrels myself.”

“I prefer character above lineage.”

“Good for you.” In an absentminded movement, he bent down, plucked a struggling buttercup out of its patch of grass, and handed it to her. “I’d say you’ve got both in those girls of yours. They’re beauties. Heartbreakers. The little one’s already wrapped her fist around mine. And she knows it.”

“You surprise me.” She stared down at the sunny yellow flower in her hand, baffled. Despite fatigue and aching feet, she followed him into the stables. “You don’t strike me as a man who’d take to children. Little girls.”

“Mongrels are full of surprises.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“I know you didn’t.” He settled Max in his stall, latched the door. “The little one’s got your eyes, smoke and storms. Ali’s got your mouth, soft and wanting to be stubborn.” He grinned then. “You breed good, Laura.”

“I suppose I should thank you, though no one’s ever put it quite that way before. And I appreciate your entertaining them, but I don’t want you to feel obligated.”

“I don’t. I said I like them. I meant it. Besides, they owe me for the show. Me and Max don’t work for free. I could use some help around here.”

“Help?”

“Mucking out, hauling hay. Unless you’ve got a problem with your progeny shoveling manure.”

She’d shoved plenty herself in her day. “No. It’ll be good for them.” Automatically, she lifted a hand to stroke Max’s nose. “You’ve worked a minor miracle here,” she noted, glancing down the spotless building.

“I’ve got a strong back and plenty of ambition.”

“For?”

“Making something out of this. Saddle horses, trick ponies, jumpers. I’ve got a way with them.”