The Dark Prince's Prize

Chapter 4-3

Samara paused at the bottom of the steps and took several deep breaths of the icy air. The snow flurries had stopped, but from the look of the heavy, gray clouds, it was only a matter of time before it began to fall again. What was crazy was that it had been almost eighty degrees a few days ago.

A shiver ran through her body. She balanced the coffee in the crook of her arm and pulled her heavy, insulated leather gloves out of her coat pocket, slipping them on. She took a sip of her coffee, her thoughts on the good-looking man, and began walking toward the barn.

The guy’s accent ruled him out as a local. She wondered if he was Hispanic. She spoke a little Spanish thanks to taking four years of it in high school and working with the ranch hands who came by the garage, but that didn’t feel right either. He seemed more European—not that she had much experience with people from overseas.

“He’s got an aristocratic air about him,” she mused.

She unlatched the barn door with one hand and pulled it open. As she stepped into the brightly lit interior, she sighed with appreciation for the neatly parked row of UTV vehicles in a range of models. Her favorite was the Can-Am Defender Max. The thing had more bells and whistles on it than her old truck.

“Oh, yes, you sweet driving machine, I’m here,” she said with a grin.

One thing about Paul Grove—the man ran a class act when it came to equipment. The compact UTV had heated seats, a hardtop, and could go practically anywhere on the ranch. She walked over to the vehicle, opened the door, and placed her coffee in the cup holder.

Minutes later, she was pulling away from the Ranch Manager’s house where Mason and Ann Marie lived. She would pass the main homestead a little farther up the road, and close by was a state-of-the-art barn and paddocks. Besides offering survival training for military, survivalists, and rich people, the Grove ranch also raised and sold prime cattle and horses.

Her job was the care and training of the horses used by the ranch hands. Fortunately, her love for horses as a child had led to her taking the Future Farmers of America courses at school and volunteering at local stables, giving her the background she needed to qualify for the position. Even then, Red, the previous supervisor for the horses, had spent six months training her.

A good horse, trained to work as the rider’s partner, could make the difference between a good or bad day when out in the country. It was a shame she couldn’t train her brothers to understand that. Just the idea made her snort.

“I bet Mr. Rock Star Prince wouldn’t understand the importance of being a team player. He probably thinks the world revolves around him—or the universe in this case,” she scoffed.

She tightened her grip on the steering wheel as she considered the ‘alien’ prince. She shook her head in wry amusement at the image. Some guys never grew up.

“What kind of guy his age claims to be an alien? I know! He is probably some rich, trust-fund baby who still lives at home and is looking for a good time. He should have started out by buying a more dependable vehicle,” she chuckled and ended it on a sigh. “He’s just another loser like your brothers, Samara, with a capital L. Let him play his games and leave. It isn’t like you’ll see him again—or that he was even interested. Hell, he barely said two words. He probably decided that you’re some backwoods, uneducated chick—which you are. He would be a love-‘em and leave-‘em kind of guy,” she cautioned.

Properly self-admonished for thinking about the sexy alien prince wannabe, she focused on the road in front of her. Horses were her passion. She was good at training them. A good trainer could make a decent living. That was going to be her way out of here, not on a spaceship.