Välkommen Till Hästen Hus - Shånnon Marie (best books to read for knowledge .TXT) 📗

"Hästen Hus is well known for breeding high performance Friesians. That's one of the few things Ryan actually does right," Kyle said dryly. "The horse you saw him riding was Renegade, HH's pride and joy. He's a pure Dutch Friesian, shipped here as a weanling. Ryan trained and raised him. If you're smart, you won't go anywhere near Ryan's Friesians or the barn without his express permission, but he shouldn't be too against you looking just this once."
Kyle opened the barn door. Ryan was in there, hosing down Renegade. His eyes flashed when he saw the two of them. "Leave!" he snarled. "You know you're not allowed in here!"
"She's new, Ryan! She loves Friesians. Certainly you won't deny her a quick look!" Kyle hissed.
Ryan's eyes narrowed, and everything was dead silent as he thought. Finally, he said "I will show her the Friesians." Then he pointed at Kyle. "But you, leave now."
Kyle stiffened as if ready to fight, but then he turned and stormed out of the barn. As he left, he slid the door noisily shut behind him, causing Renegade to snort indignantly.
Ryan simply glared at her for a few moments, then he turned his back and continued to rinse the stallion as if Anastasia wasn't there.
Anastasia decided that her best option would be to just wait, so she sat down on a hay bale and watched Ryan. He wore a black athletic T-shirt that hugged tightly against his body, accenting the strong muscles that rippled with his every movement. His curly black hair was damp with sweat, but somehow that only added to his beauty. In short, Ryan was almost god-like in appearance.
After he finished washing Renegade, he dried him off, and turned him loose into the adjacent pasture. He stood silently and watched the stallion run around for a number of minutes before he finally turned towards Anastasia. He cocked his head to the side and studied her for a while before saying, "So you're the one Annike has been raving about?" He began slowly walking towards her.
Anastasia stood as her drew nearer. When he'd reached her, the corners of his mouth turned up into a sarcastic smile. "Annike says you're quite the rider. Who taught you?"
"My father," Anastasia hoped she sounded more composed than she felt.
"Does he train horses?"
"He's dead."
Anastasia saw Ryan wince slightly, but it happened so fast that she thought it must have been her imagination.
"I can relate," he said distantly. Then, a frown pulled over his face and his mouth clamped shut as if he'd said too much.
After several moments of painstaking silence, Anastasia cleared her throat. "Were you going to show me the Friesians?"
Ryan studied her for a few minutes more, then turned away. "Come with me," he spoke briskly, and began walking towards the pasture. Anastasia scrambled after him.
"All the Friesians are outdoors for now, since it's still warm out," Ryan gestured towards the lush field.
"Yeah, it is pretty warm for late August," Anastasia replied. Ryan gave her an odd look, and she decided not to say any more.
They watched the Friesians running, until Anastasia couldn't help but blurt out, "They're so beautiful," she breathed.
A small smile tugged at the corner of Ryan's mouth, then went away. "There's Renegade," he pointed out, "And that's my mare, Tarja. The little colt at her side is Camelot. Renegade's his father. He's the first Friesian born at HH. And that guy over there is Jelle. Renegade's his father too, but we don't own the mare. Jelle was given to us after his mom's owner couldn't afford him anymore."
"So, except for Jelle, have you trained them all?"
Ryan nodded. "And Camelot of course, men han ar babisen," he unconsciously slipped into Swedish.
"What?"
"Oh, sorry," Ryan shook his head. "I meant to say 'he's a baby'."
Anastasia glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. This time, she was positive the emotion on his face wasn't her imagination. His eyes, though they still blazed with pride, also revealed stress and exhaustion. Maybe even a hint of sadness.
He caught her staring, and the emotion disappeared, leaving only his haughtiness still present on his face. "Just because you're staying here for free doesn't mean you don't have to earn it," he snapped. "Go help Nick with grooming."
"Who?" Anastasia asked, more than a bit flustered.
"He should be in your mare's barn. Oh, and as for my Friesians? You're not allowed anywhere near them. Ever. Good day."

Deluxe stuck her head over the stall door and gave a happy whinny when she saw Anastasia. Anastasia smiled and dropped a kiss on the mare's velvety nose.
"My, my, ain't you a fine woman!" came a voice from behind.
Anastasia jumped, and turned to face the speaker. She found herself looking into a pair of laughing brown eyes. The eyes belonged to an elderly black man, who was still very full of life.
"Hello," Anastasia smiled. "My name's Anastasia Lake. But most people I know call me Annie."
"Yes'm, I know who you is," the man chuckled. "Mah name's Nick. Ahm the head groom of this here institution."
"Nice to meet you, Nick. Ryan actually just sent me to find you. Did you need help grooming?"
"No, ma'am, but ah shore wouldn't mind a hand!" he grinned.
"Well, then, I'd be more than happy to help! Where should I start?"
Nick threw his head back and gave out a rich, warm, baritone laugh. "Ah like your spirit! We need more folks 'round here like you! You can help me sweep the aisle here," he said as he handed her a broom. "Do you mind if ah play some Elton John?"
"Not at all," Anastasia grinned, finding it hard not to be cheerful in his presence.
As they worked, Nick told her all about the happenings at HH.
"So, you've met Ryan?" Nick asked.
"Yeah," Anastasia nodded. "Is he always so...so..."
"Frustratin'?" Nick prompted.
"Yes!" Anastasia replied. "That's the word!"
"He takes his job seriously, and ah think he spent so much time with he's horses that he plumb ferget how to how to behave 'round people. But don't let him get to you, miss. He can be a pain in the foot, but he's a good man at heart. Show him respect and understanding, and he'll treat you right fine!"
"If he's looking for respect and understanding, what does he see in Svea?" Anastasia said, hating how sharply her words came out.
"She is a very bitter person, that's true. But as for her and Ryan, ah don't know how much o' that ah believe."
"What do you mean?" Anastasia frowned.
"Oh there's something going on between them, that much is obvious. But that something isn't a perfect romance. However, that's just mah opinion. And don't go spreadin' that 'round, neither, or Svea'll be on our backs like lickety split!"
Anastasia pursed her lips as she thought, but was interrupted by the barn door sliding open. Svea came blowing in like a hurricane gone wrong.
"You! Poor girl!" she pointed at Anastasia.
Anastasia felt her temper rising, but forced herself to keep cool. "Yes?" she said through clenched teeth.
"Mom wants you. Kommer med mig," she gestured with her hand for Anastasia to follow her, and stalked off towards the house. Anastasia hurried after her, noticing how Svea walked as haughtily as she acted. As they were walking, Svea turned to her and said, "One thing you must learn, brat, is that I'm queen around here. My word is law, and what I say goes. Is that understood, or do I need to simplify that further?"
"Funny," Anastasia replied. "Ryan says he's

head honcho of this place."
Svea's eyes flashed with venom. "Another thing," she hissed, "Ryan is mine. Stay away from him. Here," she said as they approached the office building. "My mother's inside. Try to behave yourself, if possible."
"Yes, your majesty," Anastasia bowed mockingly.
Svea made a rude noise, then stomped off.
Anastasia stepped inside the building, and approached Annike's office. She was about to knock, but she heard arguing on the other side. The voices belonged to Annike and Ryan, and they were engaged in a heated discussion, but it was in Swedish and Anastasia couldn't make it out.
Suddenly, the door flew open, and in a case of deja vu, Ryan nearly ran her over. His eyes burned with anger, and darkened when he saw Anastasia. "Having fun eavesdropping, baby brat?!"
Anastasia, frightened by the fury radiating from him, turned to flee. His arm shot out, grabbed her wrist, and yanked her roughly into the office. The force of his pull, however, was enough to knock her off balance, and she stumbled. His other arm wrapped around her waist, stopping her fall, and pulled her against his body.
Anastasia's breath hitched in her throat, and her heart raced as she breathed in his deep, masculine scent. For a moment, neither of them moved. Anastasia reveled in he feel of his strong arms around her and his muscular chest against her cheek.
Then, as soon as it had happened, the moment ended, and Ryan pushed her away.
"Anastasia, dear, how nice to see you again!" Annike spoke.
Blushing, Anastasia turned to face the woman, and Ryan started to exit the office.
"Nej, Ryan, don't leave quite yet," Annike called out.
Ryan stopped, but didn't turn around to face them.
Anastasia focused on bringing her breathing and heart rate back down to normal. "What is it you wanted?" she asked, praying her voice didn't sound as shaky as she felt.
"I waas going to take you out to get fitted for your competition outfit, but unfortunately, something came up. Ryan here has graciously volunteered to take you instead."
Ryan tensed, and spun around with renewed anger. But then he let out a long breath and nodded reluctantly. "Come," he said in an annoyed voice.
Anastasia glanced at Annike, who smiled and waved her hands. "Go ahead, dear. Have a good time!"

Anastasia fought the urge to stare at Ryan as they drove in silence. Instead, she studied the interior of Ryan's bright red Mercedes. It was sleek and expensive, exactly the type of car he would have. The windows were tinted, and the dim lighting created a shady and mysterious sort of atmosphere.
"So, did you fall on purpose?" Ryan said dryly.
"Huh?" Anastasia frowned.
"That's such a lame trick, you know," he continued. "One of the oldest in the books."
"Ryan, what are you even talking about?" Anastasia said shortly.
Ryan turned to face her,