QUOTE : lady?” My whole body tenses. Damn it, I’m caught, my disguise didn’t work! Abort! “You’re no horse buyer. You’re a regular horse whisperer.” I spin, and see an elderly man—a real one—smiling at me with a set of pearl-white veneers. From his tailored three-piece suit, shiny snakeskin boots, and even shinier gold Rolex watch, I can tell right away he’s got money. But his demeanor is friendly. Gentlemanly. Almost bashful. “And such a lovely one, too,” he adds, with the tip of his felt cowboy hat. I realize this old-timer isn’t trying to blow my cover. Far from it. He’s trying to hit on me. “You’re very kind, sir,” I say, forcing an innocent smile. “My name’s Wyland. Cole Wyland.” He gestures at the stallion. “Always been partial to Belgian warmbloods too. Gorgeous creatures, ain’t they?” I’m confused.