The Colton Bodyguard

A short dark-haired man came out of the barn to greet her. He introduced himself as Raymond Edwards. “Yes, Tyler told me you’d be around,” she said. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Greta Colton.”

“I know who you are, Ms. Colton. I know of your work,” he said respectfully.

“Please, make it Greta,” she replied and turned her attention to the horse backed against the far railing. “And I don’t know if Tyler told you or not, but from here on, that horse’s name is Sugar.”

Raymond grinned. “If you can make that filly sweet as sugar, then I’ll know your reputation as a miracle worker with horses isn’t overblown.”

“Time will tell,” Greta replied. The two chatted for a few minutes, talking about rodeos they had both attended and mutual acquaintances in the horse business, and then Raymond returned to his work in the barn, leaving her to sort out her mood.

The photo had been such a shock. Why would Mark want to do something like that? Why would anyone do that? Something so ugly? Why make her out to be some kind of a slut when he was the one who had left her to languish in a jail cell while he wined and dined old girlfriends?

It was mean-spirited and so unfair, and it only made her more grateful than ever that the wedding had been called off before she’d married such a man.

Did Tyler possess that kind of mean streak, too? That was the problem. She didn’t know him well enough to discern all of the facets of his character.

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