“Your father is one of the finest men I’ve ever known,” Bentley said. “I would trade every man in the stables for one Jason Colson. I told you about my dad, what he was like before he fell apart. Your dad was there the whole damn time, looking out for me, getting me to ride, teaching me to shoot skeet. I remember the last intervention with my father, it was your dad who got me away from the house, all that yelling and crying. We rode horses all day. Did you know he has this trick horse named Hooper? He can damn well do anything, including drink Coors beer.”

“Oh, yes,” Caddy said, holding her purse against her thigh. “I know Hooper. Big Jason left him with Quinn when he blew town.”

“You’re kidding me,” he said. “Why didn’t you tell me? I’d sure love to see that horse.”

Caddy shrugged. The music and laughter filtered out from the stables, the band starting into a nice rendition of Dolly and Kenny’s “Islands in the Stream.” She and her mother had always talked about how Kenny Rogers had gotten a rough shake of it lately. “The Gambler.” “Lucille.” “Coward of the County.” Those were some damn fine songs. If he hadn’t gone and had all that plastic surgery, he’d be up there with the all-time country music legends.

“Quinn isn’t great about having visitors to his farm,” Caddy said. “I think he’s worried about me. And I don’t have the best luck with men. They either make a damn mess of my life or get themselves killed.”

Bentley smiled and leaned over and kissed Caddy on the mouth. “I don’t plan on doing either one.”

Caddy smiled back at him, touching his smooth, handsome face, still wondering what the hell she was doing with a boy six years younger than her. She was even more surprised at what a great time she’d been having. Bentley’s mother had done some nice work with the caterer, having three open bars, a huge table piled high with steak, shrimp, lamb shanks, and sushi. There must’ve been five or six hundred people there, paying five hundred dollars a ticket to mingle with the high rollers from the foundation.

“Your mother is kind to me.”

Bentley laughed. “Of course she is,” he said. “You’re Jason Colson’s kid.”

“I still can’t believe what you said,” Caddy said. “Your mom is so sweet. Elegant and smart. Why the hell would she consort with a man like Jason Colson?”

Bentley took her hand, squeezing it. “Women do love cowboys.”

“My dad was never a cowboy,” Caddy said. “He just played one on TV when they needed someone shot or to fall off a building.”