Pippa's Rescue Read Online Free Page A

diamond dangle to swing. “I’ll let you two, ah, console each other. We’ll meet later to discuss details about Basil Vanguard and how to approach him with the offer.”

Chapter 3
    Horse Rescue Ranch
    Stall doors on each end of the barn slid open to allow ventilation. A non-slip concrete floor made shoveling easier, but the alleyway spread ten feet wide. Five-by-eight box stalls, lined with rubber mats under bedding, posed additional cleaning challenges for Basil. Fresh air drying sweat on a working man’s body was natural. He didn’t mind the labor and God only knew being a Marine included a lot of muscle grease; however, horse shit was huge.
    Hard knocks was tattooed right next to loyal and proud. Up to date, mucking stalls topped the list of the most disgusting things he’d ever done and that included wading waist-deep through murky swamps in Cambodia. Nothing from his past compared to the scent of fresh, hot horse shit.
    Urine-laced straw dribbled from his pitchfork and onto his Docs. Classic boots shouldn’t smell like ammonia; he hoped the British Boot Company in Camden was still viable and selling Dr Martens. He hadn’t paid his mom a visit in over a year. Perhaps he’d use Skype later, if he could get a good Internet connection. Chat with her and inquire about new footwear.
    “Regret volunteering now, Basil?” Cute and perky no longer described Brooke. She became a tiny female version of the Terminator.
    Hell, yes, he regretted it, but he’d keep coming every day until he got intel about Wilson who would lead him to Harrison. “Not at all. I get to spend time with a charming and beautiful woman. What more could a man want?”
    She giggled and tapped a light bulb enclosed within a safety cage. “Make sure to look for spiders. They’re everywhere.”
    He’d thought the job would bring him up close and personal with Pippa, yet here he was scooping excretion into a wagon. Turning to Brooke, he forced a tight smile. “Noted.”
    Sweat-drenched hair and a blue jean shirt complete with pearl snaps stuck to her skin. Her exercise-induced red face made it difficult to determine if she blushed or not. Instinctively he flattered women, but he’d keep her age in mind.
    “We’ll put down fresh straw and then go empty this load into the recycling area.” She swiped a cloth-covered arm across her forehead. A sliver of straw stuck. “Did I tell you the stables are numbered one, two, and three according to how serious the horse comes in from an abusive environment? Gradually they go to stable three when they are ready to be adopted.”
    “Logical and sad.” He reached to remove the golden stick marring her forehead.
    “Aren’t you finished?” Pippa’s voice, sharp as the end of the sliver of straw, rang into the rafters.
    Basil dropped his hand, taking the filament of pungent straw with him.
    “Almost. We just need to lay down a fresh bed and then empty the wagon.” Brooke nodded to clean stalls and the wagon full of manure. Horse flies the size of his thumb buzzed over the load and formed a cloud.
    “Go. Get Mike to help,” Pippa said, staring into the distance. “Go,” she reiterated.
    Brooke took off running toward stable three.
    Pippa bent to pick up the shovel Brooke had dropped before her quick exit. “How are you doing?”
    “It’s going fine. I even thought of how aptly the stable is named.”
    Her puzzled glance suggested she questioned what his comment meant.
    He nodded to the wagon reeking with pungent poop. “Number two.”
    For a fraction of a second, a grin spread across her face before she hid behind a straight expression. “Yes, well part of the process of taking care of animals. Intake and output. I’m on my way to pick up a new addition to our family, almost two hours away near Greenfield. Do you want to see how we rescue a horse?”
    “Sure. I call shotgun.” He leaned the pitchfork against the wall.
    She laughed, short and sexy, twisting his gut into those strange knots