Second Chance with the Billionaire - Ava Storm Page 0,2

as soon as you get in today, but there’s a new client for you,” Stella Jane winced out the words as though she were giving me a painful diagnosis. It struck me as odd.

“Who is it? Did the Kowalski’s down on Amber Drive finally decide to switch over to us?”

Stella Jane gave a nervous little smile, bouncing on the soles of her feet. “Okay, so it is not exactly a local. One of the rich families on the edge of town set an appointment with us, a--” Stella Jane leaned over the counter to look at the receptionist’s desk, glancing at the appointment book. “Hamilton, she said her name was? Anyway, I texted you the address, the appointment is at ten.”

I glanced at the clock; it was 9:40am. My phone buzzed, I recognized the address, It was about a fifteen minute drive, if all went well.

“So much for coffee and gossip this morning,” I said, putting my mug down and grabbing my bag again. “I wanted to know how your date went.”

Stella Jane smiled. “I’ll fill you in when you get back, blow by blow, if you want.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re shameless.”

“I have to make up for you somehow. Now go!”

I was halfway out the door as she said it.

Judy Hamilton’s home was located on the outskirts of Blakes Corner, around winding roads hemmed in by tall, overhanging trees casting shadows across the roads. The homes on these roads were often tucked far back down winding driveways that you could only get a peek of white trim here and there if you were lucky, and her residence was no exception, although I could already tell something was different about this house. The entrance was new, and a lot easier to find than most of the locals’ houses around the area, framed by a pretty wooden fence covered in ivy. I wish I had more time to admire it before going in.

Down the winding driveway and tucked in among the trees set against the mountain behind was the mansion. It was like something out of a dream, a large grey Tudor-style building crawling in ivy, lined with windows with bright white trim. I wanted to slow down and stare at it, because I didn’t know anything so large and grand could also look like home.

I parked where Stella Jane had texted me to in the directions. Once I was out of my car and in the fresh air, the beauty of the place intensified. Nestled into the mountains, I could see parts of Blakes Corner winking down through the trees below, and towns beyond. I walked around, took note of the carriage house, converted to look like something different, but I could not tell what except that a basketball hoop had been installed over one of the larger doors to set up some sort of makeshift court. The house was old, but there was a newness to the place. Obviously Ms. Hamilton had just moved in. Ahead of me, I heard the familiar snuffles and hoof stomps of horses making their little noises to each other in the stables, which were huge.

I had only been expecting one horse, but two turned to look at me when I entered the stables. One, a beautiful black stallion, snorted as he noticed my entrance. He reminded me of Black Beauty, trotting out from one of my favorite books. Already, I thought this job might be a dream, until I turned and saw what might have been my dream horse.

The mare was what they called a strawberry roan; a gentle creature with a coat made of mixed red and white hair that made her seem almost a pink color. I had always identified with the strawberry roan. Growing up, I had always felt strange about my unusual hair color, a sort of weak strawberry blonde that looked pink in some lights. Obviously, the strawberry roan had been my favorite kind of horse. I walked over to her, loving the splash of pure white across her long face, a smudge of red across one eye. I wanted to touch her mane and see if it was as soft as it looked. She gently snuffled into my hand.

“You are so perfect!” I whispered to her. She looked up at me with large, trusting eyes.

The black stallion neighed as I lavished attention on his companion.

“I’ll get back to you in a minute,” I told him. “I’m getting to know your friend here first.”

“I would not tell