Read Online A Beaumont Christmas Wedding by Sarah M. Anderson - Free Book Online Page A

stilled. “Why not?” There was something else in her voice. That something seemed to match the look she’d given him last night, the one that craved his approval.
    He couldn’t tell her why not. Not without telling her...what? That he’d nursed a boyhood crush on her long after he’d left boyhood behind? That he’d followed her in the news? That this very afternoon, she’d been the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen?
    “Tell me about you,” he said, praying that she’d go along with the subject change. “Tell me about your life.”
    He felt her gaze on him. Now it was his turn to blush. “If I do, will you tell me about you?”
    He nodded.
    “Okay,” she agreed. He expected her to begin twisting her paper again, but she didn’t. She dug out her phone. “This is Pride and Joy,” she said, showing him a horse and rider holding a gold medal.
    The picture was her phone’s wallpaper. Her pride and joy, indeed. “That was the Games, right?”
    “Right.” Her tone brightened considerably at his memory. “I’d been getting close to that level but...I wanted him to win, you know? Having bred a horse that could win at that level made me feel legitimate. Real. I wasn’t some crazy actress, not anymore. I was a real horse breeder.”
    She spoke calmly—no hysterics, no bravado. Just someone determined to prove her worth.
    Yeah, he knew that feeling, too. Better than he wanted to.
    “There are people in this world who don’t know about that show,” she said, staring at her phone. “People who only know me as Whitney Maddox, the breeder of Pride and Joy. You have no idea how
huge
that is.”
    “I’m starting to get one.” He lifted the phone from her hand and studied the horse. He’d seen a similar shot to this one online. But she wasn’t in either one.
    She slid her fingertip over the screen and another horse came up. Even he could tell this was a younger one, gangly and awkward looking. “This is Joy’s daughter, Ode to Joy. I own her mother, Prettier Than a Picture—Pretty for short. She was a world-champion dressage horse, but her owner got indicted and she was sold at auction. I was able to get her relatively cheap. She’s turned out some amazing foals.” The love in her voice was unmistakable. Pretty might have been a good business decision, but it was clear that the horse meant much more to Whitney than just a piece of property. “Ode’s already been purchased,” she went on. “I could keep studding Joy to Pretty for the rest of my life and find buyers.”
    “Sounds like job security.”
    “In another year, I’ll deliver Ode,” she went on. “She’s only one right now.” She flicked at her screen and another photo came up. “That’s Fifi,” she told him. “My rescued greyhound.”
    The sleek dog was sprawled out on a massive cushion on the floor, giving the camera a don’t-bother-me look. “A greyhound?”
    “I was fostering her and just decided to keep her,” Whitney replied. “She’d run and run when she was younger and then suddenly her life stopped. I thought—and I know this sounds silly because she’s just a dog—but I thought she understood me in a way that most other living creatures don’t.”
    “Ah.” He didn’t know what else to say to that. He’d never felt much kinship with animals, not the way Phillip did with his horses. His father had never really loved the horses he’d bought, after all. They’d been only investments for him—investments that might pay off in money or prestige. “You foster dogs?”
    She nodded enthusiastically. “The no-kill shelter in Bakersfield never has enough room.” Her face darkened briefly. “At first they wouldn’t let me take any animals but...” Her slim shoulders moved up and down. Then the cloud over her face was gone. “There’s always another animal that needs a place to stay.”
    He stared at her. It could have been a naked play for pity—poor little celebrity, too notorious to be entrusted with