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“That man likes you.”
“Which, unless I’m wrong, has nothing to do with your apology.”
“No, but as his client, I don’t want—”
It was Liberty’s turn to cut him off. “You have nothing to worry about.” And he didn’t.
Grabbing a hoof pick off the railing, she bent and lifted the mare’s front foot, bracing it above her knee. The mare’s muscles tensed, then she tossed her head in an angry jerk. Though improving daily, she still didn’t like having her hooves cleaned.
“You’re a lot like your mother.” Mercer replaced his hat on his head. “And like me, too. I’m thinking you inherited the best from both of us.”
“I’m not anything like you.”
“You know good horseflesh when you see it.” He patted the mare’s rump. “And, from what I’m told, you have a natural way with anything on four legs.”
As if to prove his point, one of the dogs stood, bowed in a deep stretch, then came over to sit beside her and gaze up with adoring eyes. Liberty barely refrained from groaning with exasperation.
“Always had a fondness for dogs myself.” Mercer slapped his thigh. All three dogs responded by mobbing him for attention.
Traitors, Liberty thought grumpily, and moved to the mare’s back hooves.
“I should have been more tactful when I told you about your mother and I and the arena.”
Liberty stopped to glare at him. “That’s what you’re apologizing for? A lack of tactfulness.”
“I’m not sorry I came back.”
“What about using me to get at Mom?”
“I prefer to think of it as killing two birds with one stone.”
“Oh, my, God.” She emphasized each word. “You are the most self-centered, self-serving individual I’ve ever met.”
“I love your mother.”
“You what!” The hoof pick fell from Liberty’s grasp. She retrieved it with limp, clumsy fingers.
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