Tennessee Takedown by Lena Diaz

her into his arms. Him picking her up was becoming a routine she could easily grow accustomed to. But now especially, without the vest and only a dress shirt separating the two of them, it was absolute heaven being cradled against him, feeling his warmth, being able to wrap her arms around his neck.
    Since he was staring down at her, probably wondering why she was staring up at him, she rushed to fill the silence. “How many horses are there?”
    “Thirty-two. I never planned to have that many. Started with Boomerang and three mares. Naturally, there’ve been some foals born out of that. But mostly, Harmony Haven is a rescue farm.”
    “Boomerang?”
    “A stallion. He’s whistle trained. He can be galloping away as fast as he can go and if I whistle he turns around and comes right back, like a boomerang.”
    She smiled. “You said this place is a rescue farm?”
    “We take in horses that are abused or from people who can’t afford them anymore. Our adoption rate is about sixty percent once we rehabilitate the animals. But some have been too traumatized or are too scarred up for anyone to want them. Those are our permanent residents.” He jogged up the wide front steps to the wraparound porch.
    “You keep saying ‘we’ and ‘our.’ Does someone else live here, too? Someone else in your family?” She glanced at the large glass oval in the front door as he twisted the knob, and wondered who else she was about to meet.
    “I live in the house alone, but my farm manager and half a dozen farmhands live in the bunkhouse out back. Don’t worry. You’ll have plenty of privacy. They don’t come up to the house much. As I said, my mom and dad live up the road, about half an hour from here. But they’re out of state right now, visiting my brother in Montana.”
    He carried her in, dropped the duffel bag on the floor and set her on a soft sage-green couch. The floors were a rustic oak and the staircase in the back of the room was framed with a polished oak handrail and bright white wooden spindles. The main room was expansive, but the enormous burgundy throw rug in the middle of the room softened the space and helped make it homey.
    “The master suite is on the bottom floor, that door behind you,” he said, pointing over her shoulder. “I’ll change the sheets and move some of my things to one of the rooms upstairs. It will be much easier for you to hobble around on the bottom floor. It’s got its own bathroom, so that will make it easier, too.”
    “I hate for you to give up your room for me, but I really appreciate it. I’m not sure I could handle stairs right now.”
    “Are you—”
    Her stomach chose that moment to rumble. Loudly. Her face flushed hot.
    His lips curved up in a sensual smile that was like a punch in the gut. Good grief, the man was sexy.
    “I was about to ask if you were hungry,” he teased. “But I think I have my answer. I’ve been cooking for myself for over twelve years now, since the day I left for college. So I reckon I can rustle up something decent to eat. What are you in the mood for?”
    “Anything that won’t run away when I stick my fork in it.”
    He laughed. “That hungry, huh? You should have said something earlier. We could have grabbed food back in town. Soup and sandwiches are quick so you don’t have to wait long. Sound okay?”
    “Sounds wonderful. Thanks.”
    He grabbed the duffel and stood. “Chris mentioned he might stop by in a bit to brainstorm on the investigation. I usually leave the door unlocked, but with everything that’s happened, I’m keeping the house sealed up tight. If you see him at the front door, holler at him to use his key.”
    “Okay.”
    He grabbed a remote control off the thick oak coffee table and set it beside her. “If you want to watch TV, click that top button. The TV will pop up out of the table behind the other couch.”
    “Hmm. Sounds like a fancy luxury to have.”
    He gave her a droll look. “Electronic equipment isn’t a