“It means, that when people have trouble, they call me.” He nodded to the low, white building, off by itself at the edge of Melody Meadow. “What’s that?”

“Vet clinic. What kind of trouble?”

“Your kind of trouble. You have your own vet?”

“We do. You mean cash flow and too rapid corporate expansion?” That was the Ryder’s corporate issue in a nutshell.

“Sometimes.”

“And the other times?”

He didn’t answer.

“Are you proud of it?” she goaded.

He gave a rueful smile as he shook his head.

She tilted her head to one side, going for ingenuous and hopeful. It usually worked on her brothers.

“Fine. Mostly I identify market sector expansion opportunities then analyze the financial and political framework of specific overseas economic regions.”

She blinked.

“On behalf of privately held companies.”

“The vet’s name is Dr. Anderson,” she offered.

Alec coughed out a chuckle.

“It sounds challenging,” she admitted, turning her focus back to the road.

He shrugged. “You need to develop contacts. But once you learn the legislative framework of a given county, it applies to all sorts of situations.”

“I suppose it would.”

The breeze freshened, while horses whinnied as they passed a row of paddocks.

“Tell me about your job,” Alec prompted.

“I teach horses to jump over things,” she stated, not even attempting to dress it up.

There was a smile in his voice, but his tone was mild. “That sounds challenging.”

“Not at all. You get them galloping really fast, point them at a jump and most of the time they figure it out.”

“And if they don’t?”

“Then they stop, and you keep going.”

“Headfirst?” he asked.

“Headfirst.”

“Ouch.”