Million Dollar Stud

“I couldn’t sleep…when I closed my eyes, I saw you.”

Darcy’s words whispered against her skin.

Silver felt herself melt under the seductive pull of his words.

“All I could think of was holding you, touching you, kissing you.”

He pulled her flush against him until she could feel every hard, hot inch of him.

She knew she was playing with fire, but she couldn’t resist. Pulling his head down to hers, she opened her mouth, allowing her tongue to tease, to stroke before pressing her lips to his.

She had to get him out of her system. “Darcy, we’re going to exorcise this tension between us with pure, red-hot sex. Just a good roll in the hay.”

“Since we’re in the office, we’ll have to save the hay for another time,” he teased.

Her eyes narrowed. “There can’t be another time. This is it.”

“In that case, I’m going to make sure I do a damn fine job!”

Meg Lacey first discovered romance in the sixth grade when she wrote her own version of Gone with the Wind. However, her writing career didn’t last. Instead, she went into theater, earned her degree and, over the years, has been an actress, director, copywriter, creative dramatics teacher, mime, mom, college instructor and school bus driver. Currently she is president of her own television and interactive media company, writing and producing in all media from film/video to print. Meg lives in Ohio, where she is currently working on a number of fiction and nonfiction projects.

Books by Meg Lacey

HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION

734—SEXY AS SIN

865—A NOBLE PURSUIT

HARLEQUIN DUETS

13—MAKE ME OVER

SILHOUETTE YOURS TRULY

IS THERE A HUSBAND IN THE HOUSE?

DID YOU SAY BABY?!

Million Dollar Stud

Meg Lacey

www.millsandboon.co.uk

My husband and daughters—for their laughter, excouragement and always being there when necessary. And who never hesitate to kick me in the behind when I need it.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Epilogue

1

RICHARD D’ARCY KRISTOF, heir to the Kristof family fortune, strode into a private library at his country club, removed his bow tie with a jerk and quickly unbuttoned his collar. “That’s better. I hate these monkey suits.’’ He took the glass of smooth aged bourbon his older cousin, Nicholas Demetries, handed him, and downed the contents in one gulp, handing it back for another shot.

Nicholas chuckled and refilled the glass. “Rough night, Cousin?”

Darcy scowled. “If I had to dance with one more debutante, or listen to one more proud parent telling me how lovely their…whoever…is, I would have jumped off the balcony.”

The Tremont twins paused in setting out the poker chips and cards. “Wouldn’t have done you any good,” Tommy said. “Not if you were thinking suicide. The balcony is only five feet off the ground.”

“Yeah,” Terry agreed. “Worst that would happen is you’d break a leg and end up in the barberry bushes.”

Nicholas, tall, handsome and immaculately dressed in summer formal attire, clasped his cousin’s shoulder. “Then all those lovely debutantes you’re trying to avoid would be banging on your door trying to give the ‘millionaire stud’ some comfort.”

“God forbid.” With a twist of his lips, Darcy sat down at the table and drew the deck of cards toward him. “And don’t call me that. You know how much I hate that idiotic—”

Nicholas smiled. “The press has to sell their stories any way they can, Cousin.”

“Tell you what, Darcy,” said Tommy. “If you need help with that mob of women who’re always chasing you, I’m at your service.”

“Me, too,” echoed Terry.

Darcy began dealing, snapping the cards off and zipping them across the table to the respective players. “Be my guest. I haven’t met the woman yet who could intrigue me for more than forty-eight hours. Most of them bore me stiff.” He doubted a woman existed who could capture his mind as well as his senses, but that didn’t stop him from enjoying them every chance he got.

“Are you talking about in bed or out of it?” Tommy gave him a horrified look. “You don’t actually talk to them, do you?”

Terry nodded as he considered his cards. “Yeah, what’re you doing talking to them, anyway? That’s a mistake I never make.”

“You’re right, Terry.” Tommy grinned. “Take our advice—much better to look at them. That way you won’t get bored.”

Darcy stared at the twins, then shrugged, feeling the tightness in his shoulders. The tension had been building over the past few months, along with his sense of dissatisfaction. Lately, Darcy had felt confined by the aimlessness of his life. But he didn’t know what he wanted instead. He picked up his cards, fanning the hand. “At the moment, everything bores me.”

“Ah, poor misunderstood rich boy,” Nicholas said, mock sympathy dripping off his tongue. He ducked at Darcy’s feigned punch. “Wish we all had your problems.”

Darcy slid him a glance, then an unwilling grin. “Keep it up, Nick.”

Nicholas winked. “Somebody’s got to keep your feet on the ground.”

Terry gulped his drink, then, his words slurring a bit, said, “Are we going to talk all night or play cards? ’Cause if we’re going to talk, I’m going back to the dance.”

For a few minutes they played in silence, focusing on the cards and their bets. But then Darcy tossed back another drink and threw in his hand. “Sorry. I’m just not in the mood to play tonight. Let’s take a rain check, okay?”

The Tremont twins looked at each other, then back at him. “What’s got into you lately?” they asked in perfect unison.

Darcy lifted a brow, his voice tightening. “What does that mean?”

“Oh, screw this,” Tommy said, grabbing his brother’s arm and raising him to his feet. “Let’s go back to the dance. I got my eye on this redhead….”

Nicholas waved the twins to the door, giving Darcy a narrow glance as he did so. When they’d left, he said, “What is the matter with you, Darcy? You’ve been picking fights with everyone lately. Are you having some kind of problems I don’t know about?”

“Yes, I…no…hell, I don’t know.”

Nicholas stared at him. “Is it money? Do you need an advance on your trust?”

“No. I’ve got plenty of money.”

“I’ll say.” Nicholas chuckled, clasping his hands as he prepared to listen. “Okay. Then regardless of what you just said, it must be a woman.”

Darcy sent him a narrow glance. “A woman?” There hadn’t been a woman for weeks, not since Susanne Westingham had seduced him in the pool at the Overtons’ pool party. Or was it the other way around? Darcy frowned. Sometimes it all ran together.

“I know your parents have been pushing you very hard to settle down.”

“With a suitable bride,” Darcy reminded his cousin. “Which means lots of money and connections. The way they talk about it, I’m supposed to vet them before I even date them. I wouldn’t be surprised if they asked me to check their teeth.”

Grinning, Nicholas took a sip of his drink. “Well, you can’t quite blame them. There’s a lot at stake from a family point of view.”

“Fortune, reputation, heritage, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera…” Darcy shuddered.

“Afraid so.”

“Ah hell, Nick, I’m bored to death. It’s all so damn predictable.”

Nicholas rolled his eyes. “How could your life be predictable, Darcy? You’ve got the means to pick up at any time and go anywhere, do anything you want.”

Knowing how fortunate he was, Darcy had the grace to blush. “I know, but sometimes I want something different.” He felt like the spoiled little kid who wished for a pony, then when he got it, wished for a horse instead.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.” Darcy fiddled with his empty glass. “Don’t you get bored with it all? The same people, the same places. Doing the same type of things. No real challenge, no real enjoyment. You run from place to place, but it doesn’t change.” He thumped his fist on the table. “Lord-in-a-box, I’m bored to death, Nick. I need an adventure. Something to take me out of here.”

Nicholas shook his head, then focused on his cousin for a long, intense moment. “Darcy, maybe the problem’s not on the outside. Maybe the problem is…” He took a breath, then plunged on. “Maybe the problem’s with you.”

Darcy tossed his head like a restless horse. “Of course it’s with me—that’s what I’m telling you. It’s with who I am.”

“That’s not really what I meant.”

“Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be nobody. Know what I mean?”

Nicholas picked up the cards, inserting them neatly into their wooden holder. “No, I don’t.”

Leaning back in his chair, Darcy spread his hands wide. “Nobody. Man, wouldn’t that be a lark? To just be an ordinary guy? No living under the microscope, no gossip. No women trying to trap me into marriage, no idiots trying to borrow money or start a fight to prove I’m not any better than they are—nothing like that. Just normal.”

Nicholas hooted with laughter. “Come on, as if you could ever be a normal guy.”

Darcy’s eyes kindled as he sent his cousin the famous Kristof stare, the one his grandfather had used to stare down the enemy during World War II, or so family legend said. “Sure I could. Why couldn’t I?”

“Because you’ve got money and a lifestyle that most people envy and will never achieve—and you’re on the most-eligible-bachelor list for every woman from Virginia to New York to Palm Beach, and have been since you turned eighteen.” Nicholas shook his head. “You couldn’t be normal.”

“Want to bet?”

“Bet what?”

“I’ll bet that I can live the life of a perfectly ordinary citizen for one month.”

Nicholas rubbed his chin for a moment, finally saying, “What are you betting?”

“I’ll bet my car on it.”

“You’ll bet your car?” Nicholas lost his sophisticated air as his jaw dropped to his shoes. “You love that hunk of metal more than you’ve ever loved a woman.”

“That’s because it’s a hell of a lot more fun and much less trouble. But I’m not worried. I won’t lose.”

“We’ll see,” Nicholas commented. “So you plan to waltz out of here and become an ordinary guy, is that it? And where are you, the gossip rags’ poster boy, going to pull off this little miracle?”

Darcy was puzzled for a moment but then brightened, snapping his fingers. “Let’s find a map.”

“A map? Why do you need—”

“I need a place to go. It has to be somewhere where no one knows me.” He walked over to the bookshelves and started pulling out travel literature the club kept handy for members. “Here we go, a map of the U.S.” Darcy walked back to the table and spread it open. Putting one hand over his eyes, he stretched the other over the map, took a deep breath and stabbed with his finger. “All right,” he said, studying the spot. “Cecil, Kentucky—good a place as any.”

“Cecil? It sounds as if it’s in the middle of nowhere. ”

“No, look, it’s in…I’ll be damned. It’s in Bluegrass country, a little southwest of Lexington.”

“Lexington is the home of horse racing, Darcy. What makes you think people aren’t going to recognize you there? Your family owns a horse farm, for God’s sake.”

“Since I don’t really work the farm, I’m better known in Virginia horse circles—by sight, anyway. No one will connect me with Darcy Kristof of WindRaven Farms, because no one will be expecting to see me as Darcy Kristof. They’re going to see a man, period.”

Nicholas frowned. “This has disaster written all over it.”

“You worry too much.”

“You pay me to worry.”

Darcy grinned. “Then you’re really going to earn your money, aren’t you? Now here’s the deal. I escape and have an adventure for one month, without anyone but you knowing where I am.” He stared into the distance. Maybe this was just what he needed to shake things up. Either that or a new woman. Of the two ideas, the adventure was probably safer. He only hoped it would be as much fun.

“This is the stupidest thing I’ve heard you say in a long time. If you want to change something, why the hell don’t you take over some of your business and family responsibilities? That would be a challenge.”

“And put everyone out of work who’s there to do it for me?”

“Darcy…” Nicholas sighed. “It’s time you got involved with your life.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do.”

“By running away and having an adventure?”

Darcy shrugged. “Why not? Who’s it going to hurt?”

“I still think—”

Darcy leaned forward, interrupting him. “Nick, promise you’ll tell no one where I am. Not even my parents.”

“They won’t ask. They’re in Europe at our uncle’s villa.”

“That’s right. I’m supposed to be there next week, aren’t I?”

“Yes, for Aunt Rosalind’s birthday.”

“You’ll have to make up some story for me, Nick. Come on, be a sport. Do we have a bet?” Darcy extended his arm and stared at his cousin. “I pass as an ordinary guy for one month or I hand over the keys to the Jag. And if I win, your new, very expensive boat is mine to use for the next six months.”

Nicholas was silent for a moment, then grasped Darcy’s hand. “Ah what the hell, you’re going to do it anyway. You’ve got a bet.” He poured them each another tot of bourbon from the crystal decanter. “What in hell are you going to do in Cecil, Kentucky?”

“I’ll get by. Don’t worry.” Darcy downed his drink.

“I still think this one of the most crack-brained—”

“Cool it, Nick. You’re my lawyer, not a mother hen.” Darcy headed for the door, turning to give his cousin an affectionate smile. “Don’t worry. Nothing’s going to happen. I’m just going to have some fun, that’s all.”

“All right, but whatever you do, don’t seduce all the local farm girls. Your family won’t take kindly to that, especially if I have to clean up the mess.”

“I don’t spend my entire time thinking about women.”

“You don’t have to—they think about you.”

“I can’t help that,” Darcy exclaimed. “Besides, when did you have to clean up a mess beyond Christina Petrou? Which wasn’t entirely my fault. It was just fun, till her parents got involved.”

“All I’m saying is be a bit circumspect, all right?”

“I won’t do anything anyone could misunderstand.” Darcy exhaled, getting his quick flare of temper under control. “Unless they ask for it, of course.”

Nicholas gave him a sardonic look. “Oh, now that’ll be a comfort to me while you’re gallivanting around Cecil.”

Darcy laughed. “Trust me, if I see a good-looking babe, I’ll turn the other cheek. Or at least I’ll try.”

“Ah hell, go,” Nicholas said, picking up his drink. “But call if you need me.”

Darcy waved as he left the room. “See you in a month.”

HAVING MADE HIS DECISION to leave, Darcy didn’t waste time in getting on his way. Monday morning, just after dawn, he hefted a large duffel bag into the seat of the old pickup truck he’d borrowed from one of his grooms, and hit the road. He felt an unaccustomed feeling of freedom. When was the last time he’d had an adventure like this? Never, he thought. His adventures had always included exotic locales, first-class accommodations and expensive equipment. At the moment he had five hundred dollars in his wallet, a few changes of clothes and a couple of his favorite books. He was ready to roll.

He ignored the interstates and took back roads, meandering through the familiar rolling valleys of Virginia, then the mountains of West Virginia, passing through small towns that brought a smile, and over rivers and creeks with names that celebrated pioneer discovery. He slipped unnoticed into Kentucky, into the eastern Appalachian hills, and finally into the majesty and promise of the bluegrass region—the grazing land, rolling wooded vistas and wide valleys that surrounded his final destination.

SILVER BRAYBOURNE TOOK a firmer grasp on the lunge lines as her horse walked in a tight circle. “All right, now,” she crooned, “just settle down. You know what this is all about.” Lucky Hand wasn’t a young, inexperienced horse, but one who needed retraining if he was ever to reach his potential. And Silver thought this horse had plenty of potential. The problem lately was convincing her father.

“That’s right, let’s smooth it out.” She jammed her old baseball hat down on her head as she studied the stallion’s gait, paying close attention to the movement of his back legs as she let the line out a bit. She’d had the horse for about two months, but had only been working him hard for one. “We’ve had a lot of winners come out of Braybourne Farm. I expect you to do your share.” The horse glanced her way as if he understood. “You’re a winner. I just know it, and I’m going to prove it, no matter what anyone says.” After all, they’d bred and trained a number of winning racehorses, even if they hadn’t produced a Derby winner. But she could change that if she managed this farm. She lightly cracked her whip, smiling as the horse responded. Daddy was just getting cold feet, not up to taking a risk. She’d convince him otherwise or she didn’t deserve to be a Braybourne.

Silver blinked sweat from her eyes and wiped her forehead on the sleeve of her old cotton shirt. Damn, it was hot. She couldn’t remember when it had last been so hot in Cecil. June in Kentucky was generally pleasant, but this year was already promising to be a scorcher. She hoped it wouldn’t be dry, too. The past few years had been hard on their crops, not to mention their horses. They couldn’t afford to take any more losses.

“’Scuse me, Miz Braybourne,” a voice interrupted her. “Doc Winters sent me over with some of that new liniment you was asking about.”

Silver glanced over her shoulder at the young man giving her an admiring glance from behind the fence.

“Hi, Jamie. Just put it in the office for me, okay?”

“You gotta sign for it. Doc Winters said you gotta sign for it.”

“Why don’t you sign for me, Jamie? I’m fine with that.”

“The doc wouldn’t like it. He’s got a new office manager who says he’s gotta clean up his act, and she’s making the doc’s life miserable.”

Silver laughed. “Well, I’m almost finished anyway, so bring the paper on out here. I wouldn’t want you to break the rules on my account.” That was her job. Breaking rules, pushing to see how far she could go, before someone hauled her back to the gate. Unfortunately, most of the time she was pulled up short before she’d even gotten onto the field. But that didn’t stop her from trying.

Jamie slipped into the paddock and picked his way over to Silver, taking care to avoid the big black stallion at the other end of the line. He held out a professional-looking clipboard. “Here you go, Miz Braybourne.”

“You can call me Silver, Jamie. You used to.” She sent the young man a teasing grin. “Before you remembered that I changed your diapers when I baby-sat for you.”

Jamie blushed and scuffed his toe in the dirt. “I wish you’d forget about that.”

Silver held the lunge line in one hand as she scribbled her name with the other. “Can’t, Jamie. You had such a cute little backside.”

Silver’s grin expanded as Jamie turned every shade of red. “Ah, geez!”

A high-pitched cackle erupted from the fence, followed by a halfhearted command, “Girl, you leave that there young man alone. Ain’t no call to embarrass him that way.”

Silver handed the clipboard back to Jamie, smiling at his muttered “thank you” as he walked to his pickup truck. She looked over her shoulder at Travis O’Neill, whom her grandfather had nicknamed Tater when he was just a little sprout. “Tater, where’ve you been? Dad was down here looking for you a little while ago.”

“He found me,” he replied, resting his elbows on the fence.

Silver stared at him. There was something about his tone of voice…. She slowed her horse to a walk. “Is anything wrong?”

Tater climbed stiffly onto the fence, perching on the top rail. “What could be wrong, girlie?”

She walked to the horse and removed the line, leading him by the bridle over to Tater. “Besides the fact that we’re in hock up to our ears, you mean?”

“Nothing new in that, Silver. Braybournes been either in the money or out of it ever since your great-great-great-great-grandfather settled Cecil.”

“I know, but we were getting ahead until Brett made that stupid investment.”

“Your brother didn’t make it by hisself, ya know. Your daddy okayed it.”

“I know. If he’d asked me, I could have told him—”

“Point is, he didn’t. So I’d let it go if I was you, and do your best to help turn things around, any way you can.”

“I’m trying, Tater, but my father doesn’t always listen to me. For God’s sake, I know as much, if not more, about horses than any of my brothers ever did, and he listens to them. No questions asked. And now with Daddy’s accident…”

“Well, you know how it is with a man and his sons.” He held up his hand to shut her up. “Now, I ain’t sayin’ it’s right, just that’s how it is with some people.”

“Uh-huh. And much as I love my brothers, what did those three sons do? Each of them managed the place for a while, then moved on to something else. I’m the one who stayed.”

“You’ll be moving on yourself someday, Silver. Some man’ll sweep you right on out of here.”

“What?” Her chin came up. “No, that won’t happen.”

“You’ll get yourself hitched and—”

“Think again. The only male I’m interested in—” she jerked her head toward her horse “—is this one, ’cause the man hasn’t been born yet who can sweep me off my feet.” Silver kept hoping she’d find one, but so far all the men she’d met seemed so tame. So familiar. So boring. If she ever met one who wasn’t…look out! She didn’t see much chance of that, however, not in her social circle.

Tater eyed the stallion and chuckled. “Silver, girl, I don’t think that there male is what your pa has in mind for your future.”

Silver grimaced as she started on her biggest gripe. “No. I’m supposed to be the Braybourne debutante, go to all the parties and play the dating game.”

“I always said you could do anything you put your mind to, girl.”

“Oh, I’ve got the debutante moves down pat. I know when to smile, when to flutter my lashes, when to tease and flirt. But on the whole, I’d rather muck out the stables.”

Tater laughed. “Ah, Silver, the man that takes you on is in for a hard ride. You’d swear something is black even if it’s as white as a church steeple.”

She looked down at her jeans and old, comfortable riding boots. “Did you ever try to stuff your feet into a pair of heels, Tater? Take it from me, you might as well be wearing a piece of wood balanced on a nail. My toes go numb.”

“But you look right pretty when you wear ’em.”

“Forget the flattery.”

“Don’t you have something to do today?”

“Today? I don’t think…wait a minute, what day is it?”

“It’s Monday.”

“Oh damn, Mama and I are going to that charity tea. I forgot.” She glanced at her watch. “Eleven-fifteen? It’s not that late, is it?”

“It surely is.”

“Oh, Lord, I have to get going.” Taking a good grip on Lucky Hand, she started to walk away.

“Wait a minute, Silver.” Tater caught up with her and grabbed the bridle. “I’ll rub him down and feed him. You get on up to the house and put on your fancy duds.”

“Well, I…he’s my responsibility.”

“So’s that charity project you been helping your mother with.”

“I know, but—”

“Go on, git. The horse and the farm will still be here when you get back.”

DARCY PULLED HIS PICKUP to the side of the road and stared at the sign on the outskirts of town. Cecil, it proclaimed in elegant letters. Now the adventure really begins, he thought, wondering where it would take him. Good or bad, he was here, and he’d have to play it out. What the hell, it wasn’t life or death, it was just…what? A way to find something he was missing in his life? He’d been thinking more and more about that lately, with his twenty-ninth birthday coming up. Then he shook his head. What a crock—he had everything. He just temporarily needed something new, that was all. An adventure.

The afternoon heat was kicking in with a vengeance, made worse by the sticky black vinyl seats of his borrowed truck. He’d give anything for a shower and a long cool drink about now. Right. Enough thought, time for action. He leaned over, started the truck, then glanced in his mirror and pulled back onto the highway that headed straight to the heart of Cecil, Kentucky.

It was a pretty little town, full of old, well-restored homes, riotous gardens and charming shops laid out on either side of a broad main street shaded with majestic elm trees. He looked for a likely place to stop to get a drink and find some conversation that would clue him in on job prospects around Cecil. Unfortunately, everything looked too genteel to get the kind of gossip he needed. Then he remembered his own farm and it dawned on him to look for the local feed and grain store. People there were bound to know what type of work was available.

Darcy found the feed store on the other side of the town, near the outskirts. It was a large enough business to feature gas and diesel tanks, storage areas and a large grain operation. The main building had a broad porch where a couple of old men were seated on wooden chairs, engrossed in a game of checkers.

“This is more like it,” Darcy said aloud, eyeing the men.

He pulled into the front parking area, slid out of the truck and stretched, aware of the two men giving him curious glances. With his trademark saunter he headed for the steps, pausing on the top one to ask, “Can I get a cold drink inside?”

“Yes, sir,” drawled one of the sparsely thatched, gray-haired gentlemen. “They got one of them cola machines right inside the door.”

“They’ve also got those fancy sodas in there, too, Tater,” said the other man, who was wearing an old John Deere hat pulled low over his forehead. “Remember when they put them in there?”

“That’s right, I remember ’cause…”

Positive these two geezers might go on this way for a long time, Darcy gave them a grin and small salute. “Thanks.” He sauntered inside the building, feeling their eyes on his back. He knew the men’s conversation would shift to him as soon as he disappeared through the door. Darcy pulled some coins from his pocket and made his selection at the soda machine. He took a long, cool drink before strolling back toward the doorway.

If I’m really lucky, these two old guys will open up and talk to me. Tell me just what I want to know. Unlike his father, who had an exaggerated sense of his own worth, Darcy generally found it easy to approach individuals in all strata of society, and for the most part it was easy for them to approach him, too. Unless he got on one of his arrogant high horses. Then everyone who knew him ran for cover, as the Tremont twins had last night.

Cold drink in hand, he strolled over to the railing and leaned against it. He watched the checker game, wondering how to start the conversation, when one of the men—Tater—saved him the trouble.

“Just passin’ through, are ya?” Tater asked.

“No, sir,” Darcy replied. “I’d like to find a job and stick around for a bit. Decide whether to move on or not.”

The other man jumped his red king over Tater’s black one. “Ah, you one of them migrant workers then?”

Tater glared at the board, then glared at his companion. “’Course he ain’t no migrant, Lawrence. What in Sam Hill’s the matter with you?”

“Well, I didn’t mean no disrespect, I just meant—”

Darcy interrupted before the squabble got more intense. These two men seemed to have a long-running routine, and he wasn’t sure he could stand still and listen to it. “I don’t know as much about working crops,” he said diplomatically, “as I do working horses.”

“Ah.” Tater nodded. “You a horseman?”

Darcy nodded in turn. “Yes, sir.” It was true he’d ridden and been around horses all his life. Even if he didn’t do any of the breeding and training work on his farm now, his grandfather had made him work on the farm every summer until he was thirteen. He’d avoided it ever since, but what the hell—a horse was a horse! How bad could it be for a month? “Know of any horse farms around here that might be hiring?”

Tater narrowed his eyes and leaned back, giving him a slow, steady once-over. “Well, I might. I just might.”

“Ain’t you looking for somebody to help out for a while, Tater?” Lawrence asked.

Darcy met Tater’s gaze with his steadiest stare, hoping the man liked what he saw, fully expecting that he would. After all, Darcy had been rebuffed by very few people in his life. The strange thing was, he was just now starting to wonder if he’d earned that reaction or if it was given in sheer deference to his wealth and position.

The man’s eyes, bright and sharp, seemed curiously out of place in his grizzled old face. “That I am, Lawrence.”

Talk about luck. Darcy was tempted to ask for a job, but restrained himself. His stomach clenched as he waited for Tater to make up his mind.

A long moment later, the old man rubbed his chin and exhaled. “Might be we could give you a try. I gotta warn ya, though, the pay won’t be great. But we’d be talking room and board.”

“We?”

“Harden Braybourne of Braybourne Farm. Harden had an accident awhile back and he’s decided we need some more help.” Tater grinned, revealing a large gap between his front teeth that gave him a peculiarly boyish look. “The operation’s not as big as it was, but we ain’t as young as we used to be, neither.”

“Getting older happens to everyone, I hear,” Darcy said with a smile.

“Gotta tell you, Son, I’d be a lot happier if t’weren’t happenin’ to me.” He stood up and extended his hand. “Name’s Travis O’Neill. Most folks call me Tater.”