Fast & Loose by Elizabeth Bevarly (best classic books to read txt) 📗

the side of the road, then stopped completely when he took his time waddling across. As she waited, she listened to a swaggering blue jay argue with a more pragmatic cardinal, inhaled a great gulp of honeysuckle flourishing fat and fragrant on a wire fence, and loved the way the soft spring breeze wandered through the open windows and danced with her hair.

When the groundhog disappeared into the brush on the other side of the road, Lulu put her car in gear again and inched forward, keeping an eye on the odometer to compute the passing miles between Highway 60 and the Mayhews. She stopped when she began to see horses in the fields to her right, big glossy-coated animals of black and brown, cinnamon and chestnut, cantering and cavorting behind white wooden fences. The late afternoon sun spilled long trails of amber and orange over the countryside, the colors shimmying in the coats of the horses and turning them to gold.

They really were gorgeous creatures, she thought as she slowed the car again to watch them. Such power and beauty, such strength and grace, all of it moving with incredible speed and elegance. No wonder Cole was drawn to Thoroughbreds. He had a lot in common with them.

A sign appeared a little farther down the road, letting her know she’d arrived at her destination. MAYHEW FARMS, it read. EST. 1921. CHAMPION THOROUGHBREDS BRED, RAISED, STABLED, AND TRAINED.

Cole had told her to continue all the way up the winding driveway until she saw the main house, which, he’d told Lulu, she would know when she saw it. She passed barns and outbuildings, a silo and alfalfa field before it came into view, a massive Federal-style house with a broad, wraparound veranda and what looked like floor-to-ceiling windows across the front.

This must be the place.

She rolled to a stop beside the rented Town Car she recognized as Cole’s, then took a few seconds to steady her breathing, collect her thoughts, and shore up her nerve. But before she was anywhere close to doing any of that, Cole was coming down the front steps of the house toward her, looking nothing like the Cole she knew, making it even more impossible for her to get a grip on what she was thinking or feeling.

Gone was the high-powered, flashy business suit in which she’d become so accustomed to seeing him. Gone was the splashy-colored shirt and silk necktie. Gone was the expensive Italian footwear. For Derby Eve, a night when virtually everyone in his line of work and social stratum was dressing in their finest duds to make the rounds of dozens of parties and events, Cole had opted for a denim work shirt, blue jeans, and hiking boots. And instead of going out to party, he’d elected to stay in tonight. With Lulu.

She opened the car door and climbed out, smoothing a hand over the yellow and orange batik sundress that fell to mid-thigh. She’d paired it with beaded sandals and chunky beaded bracelet and earrings, letting her hair bounce free around her shoulders. It was an outfit she’d bought two years ago and never worn. Wearing it now, she felt…

That was strange. She would have thought she’d feel overdressed and uncomfortable. Instead, she felt kind of good. The sun on her bare shoulders was warm and welcoming, the balmy breeze caressed her arms, and the long grass by the drive tickled her calves as she began to walk toward him. Instead of making her feel like the center of attention, the bright colors and bold pattern made her feel like…herself. She loved color. She loved bold patterns. Her work and home were decorated by both. So why shouldn’t she be?

Oh, right. Because bold colors and patterns brought unwanted attention. At least, it had been unwanted before. And because indulging her desire for those meant opening the door to indulging other things, too, things she didn’t want to indulge outside her art. At least, she hadn’t before. Before she met Cole. Before he gave her a reason—besides her work—to let herself be herself. Before he entered her life and filled it with colors she’d never even known existed. The colors of passion. The colors of happiness. Maybe even the colors of love. Not that she hadn’t had those things in her life before he came along, but they hadn’t been like this. Never, ever, like this.

“Hey,” he said as he drew near her.

She arched her eyebrows at the greeting. “Hey?” she echoed. “What happened to Hello?”

He grinned. “Guess I’ve fallen under the spell of you Kentuckians. I actually used y’all this morning, too.”

She grinned back. “But did you use it correctly, that’s the question.”

“What do you mean?”

“Were you talking to more than one person when you said y’all?”

He shook his head. “No.”

She uttered a soft tsk and said, “You non-Southerners. Y’all is plural, not singular.”

“Then I used it correctly,” he told her.

“But you said—”

“I was talking to a barn full of horses at the time.”

“Ah. Is that part of the Kentucky spell, too?” she asked. “Talking to horses? ’Cause I have to tell you, Cole, not all of us are that comfortable around them. Case in point, me.”

His mouth dropped open in surprise. “You’re afraid of horses?”

“Only up close,” she said.

He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Well, this is a bit unexpected. But we can work around it.” Before she could ask him what he meant, he hurried on, “I’ve talked to horses all my life.” Then he smiled again. “And I grew up in Virginia,” he added.

That surprised her. “No way. You’re from the South?”

He nodded. “When I left Virginia, I stopped saying y’all. I thought it made me sound like a hick. But coming back here and hearing everyone use it so matter-of-factly, I realized saying y’all doesn’t make you sound like a hick. It makes you sound like…”

“What?”

“Charming,” he told her. “At least it is when you say it.”

He took the two steps necessary to close the space between