Chapter 1

1

L ogan hated cheap stock trailers, whether he was a horse or a man.

They were loud and hollow-sounding, and being dragged in one for miles down dusty gravel roads was a special kind of torture. When Logan was a horse, there was no way to move around or turn; it was painfully dull and boring. When he was a man, there were no concessions for his form (it was too suspicious to have human comforts in a box made for livestock), so he rattled around in a hot, empty tin can. If he sat down on the floor to use his phone, he had no view, and if he stood up to look out, he had to cling to the side or stagger at every curve, with only two legs to balance on.

Either way was uncomfortable and irritating.

"Next time, you're the horse," he groused at Clancy when they arrived at the Montana ranch, after he'd confirmed that the trailer was angled so it wasn't visible from the farmhouse and there was no one in sight yet.

"You're the more valuable specimen," his cousin reminded him out as he put out the ramp. His voice got silky. "Who's a pretty boy with fake papers? Now shift, because the nice lady with the deep pockets is coming."

Logan's instinct gave an unhelpful warble. Something was off about this deal, but Logan couldn't tell what, so he stuffed his misgivings down without examining their cause. Instinct was like a fortune cookie anyway, right just often enough to be frustrating, and annoyingly vague. Deals with Clancy always left him feeling dirty, and it was no different ignoring magical instinct than it was to ignore his remorse.

Grumbling, he shifted and high-stepped out of the trailer. Let's go put on a goddamn show.

His stallion, to Logan's disgust, was happy to toss his mane and let the long, coarse hair spill down over his arched neck. We should be admired. We are amazing. Look how beautiful the light on us is!

Humility was not one of his animal's stronger traits.

"Dammit, Logan, you aren't wearing a halter!" Clancy hissed.

Logan could take simple items with him and back from form to form, and he cursed himself for such a stupid oversight; he must not have been wearing one the last time he'd been a horse. Well, if anyone could pull off trying to sell a horse with no halter, it would be Clancy, who was as smooth-talking as any car or snake oil salesman.

"You must be Jason Commingson. Nice to meet you. My vet will be here shortly."

Logan wheeled to face their customer. Tabby Swiftwater was a tall woman, strong and curvy, with arms that showed muscle. She wore jeans with pale knees and a faded T-shirt, a brimmed cowboy hat shading her eyes from the morning sun. Her gaze was sharp and unwavering. Everything about her suggested a woman who was used to working hard and Logan had to keep himself from crowding possessively as his cousin stepped forward to shake her hand with an appreciative grin. He didn't want to come across as an aggressive animal and scare the buyer off before they even began.

Logan found himself wishing they were here for any reason other than a horse sale. Tabby was exactly the kind of woman he'd want to buy a drink for at a bar, with a blue-collar beauty that deeply appealed to him.

"Should he be out without a halter on?" she asked, giving Clancy's hand a brisk shake but looking only at Logan. Disapproval was obvious in her voice.

"He's trained up a treat, ma'am," Clancy explained without hesitation. "Just as described. He's a Dutch warmblood, seventeen hands of muscle and manners that will jump over anything that stands still long enough. Did you have a chance to review the papers I sent?"

Logan pranced delicately in place and lowered his head to blow gently at Tabby. She smelled delicious, like sun and dry grass and faintly of sweat, and Logan had to keep himself from lipping her eagerly when she extended her hand.

"Oh, he's a beauty," she said, melting and stroking his nose. "Of course I looked over the papers. It's an impressive lineage." The glance she gave Clancy suggested that she recognized how dubious his claims were, but she didn't challenge them.

"He'd throw some prize foals if you're looking to set up a breeding stock," Clancy said coaxingly.

Logan wished he was an ostrich shifter so he could bury his face in the sand. Here was the woman of his dreams, and he was a fifteen hundred pound piece of meat.

We would make beautiful foals , his stallion said proudly.

No. The answer is no. Not ever .

You could sire them on this woman, his stallion suggested. She looks fertile and strong.

She's a person , Logan insisted. She's not a means to a legacy and neither am I.

We should have a herd, his stallion complained.

We have a cousin and a brother. Logan was not close with his immediate family, except for Clancy…and there wasn't as much affection between the two of them as there was grudging loyalty. They needed each other for their marketing strategy, but Logan didn't trust Clancy beyond those bonds, and his stallion didn't consider him herd . Logan hadn't talked to his brother, Steven, in five years.

We should have a mare and foals of our own to protect, his horse insisted, single-minded and mule-headed.

This is not a conversation I am having, Logan said firmly. Kids were not part of his equation, not ever.

He was a con man, not a family man, and this arrangement had suited them just fine.

Until now.

Until Tabby Swiftwater waltzed into the picture with her battered boots and deep brown eyes.

Because this woman didn't have only his stallion's attention, but all of Logan's as well. He'd never seen someone so sexy, and besides that, she seemed charming and clever, and Logan felt like he'd just been caught in a flytrap of irrational affection.

Tabby was frowning now, and shaking her head earnestly.

"I'm not as interested in breed as I am in work ethic. I want a strong jumper and I don't have a setup for a stallion. I'm trying to start a school, not a dynasty." She was still stroking Logan's nose, like she couldn't resist.

"You can always have him gelded," Clancy observed.

GELDED? his stallion protested .

Logan could feel any ardor shriveling and he stepped straight sideways into Clancy.

"Oof, he's got a sense of humor, this one," Clancy wheezed, barely keeping his balance. "But I promise, he's sweet as can be. " He bumped Logan back with his shoulder, but it was hardly an equal hit. "Let me put him through his paces, and you'll see for yourself."

"You don't have a saddle or a lead," Tabby pointed out skeptically, drawing back.

"This baby doesn't need one," Clancy said confidently. "He's been free lunging since he was a baby. Step out, Better Behave."

Logan put his ears back. Clancy delighted in giving him ridiculous names. It was in keeping with equine tradition, and it wasn't the worst name he'd been stuck with.

"Does he have a barn name?" Tabby wanted to know.

"You can call him anything you want, honey," Clancy said expansively.

Logan wished he was making a better impression on Tabby. He was torn between desperation to awe her and thinking about deliberately muffing his routine so that Clancy couldn't close the deal. He wasn't sure what instinct, humming in his head like angry bees, was trying to tell him, but he was positive that he didn't want to start things out with Tabby by taking all her money.

The thought arrested him.

What could he possibly be starting out with Tabby?

When he paused to examine this startling idea, his stallion took advantage of his hesitation and took off without Logan's conscious control, lifting his feet and dancing forward into a pitch-perfect canter for the far gate.

"Trot, you aptly named asshole!" Clancy hollered after him.

Logan did a brief, springy circuit of the pen .

"He's gorgeous," Tabby whispered. "That gait. "

There were jumps set up, homebuilt from painted dimension lumber, and Logan sprang over each of them on his way back, clearing with distance to spare and landing lightly before he circled back to where Clancy and Tabby were watching. He ended in a high-stepping prance and stopped on a dime. Tabby didn't flinch at his approach, but stood her ground and gazed up at him with smitten eyes.

"He's a desperate showoff," Clancy said with an apologetic laugh. "Smug bastard," he added below his breath.

Logan stood contritely before them at complete attention. Tabby touched him again, stroking his neck, and his whole hide seemed to go electric. Logan had been affected by a pretty face and hot body before, but nothing at such a bone-deep level.

"He's a beauty," Tabby agreed helplessly.

Don't buy me, Logan thought as hard as he could, wishing that telepathy came with shifting. Don't break your heart on a jerk like me.

"He's a steal at this price," Clancy said, and Logan marveled at the sincerity in his voice. "But I want him to go to a home that will love him. I wouldn't be selling him at all if I didn't have my mother's cancer to cover."

Too thick, Logan thought ferociously at his cousin. Don't do this to her.

But Clancy couldn't hear him any more than Tabby could.

"I'll need to see him under a rider," Tabby said practically. "And my vet will be here shortly to check him out. You should discount your price for the fact that I'll have to pay for the gelding."

GELDING? His stallion snorted and stepped back in affront before Logan could stop him to maintain their cover.

We'll be gone before she has a chance to do that, Logan reminded him.

Instinct gave a twang that felt like regret, and Logan squashed it down. This was only business.