Don't think you're getting out of it.
You feel like heaven.
But that wasn't possible. If that were true, then it would mean an option so vulnerable, so corroded in my psyche, it might fall apart in my hands before I could truly grasp it. A hope of belonging… of mattering.
And after dropping that bomb and telling me tothink on it, Spencer had suddenly become so busy, I didn't see him anymore. For three days, he'd made sure I had my medication in the morning, gave me strict instructions to take it easy and not go out during the December cold snap we were having, and then left for hours.
I wasn't sure what he was doing, but he acted cagey about it. Clearly, it was something he thought I wouldn't like. But I couldn't bring myself to ask because his presence here was confusing enough. Maybe I didn't want to know. Maybe the truth wasn't what my heart hoped it was, and he was out on dates with other girls or… touring museums…
I really had no idea what to think.
On day three, I shoved my feet in snow boots, wrapped myself in my canvas coat and red scarf, and barged out the back door. I couldn't take being alone with my thoughts anymore. I'd been able to breathe well for days, my fever had been gone since the night Spencer had sat me on the counter and nearly had me for dessert, and I'd had as much as I could take of being inside on the couch. Plus, my thoughts were starting to make me dizzy.
Every time I allowed myself to approach the possibility that Spencer was here because heliked me, I panicked and pushed it away. Then I would reason with myself that Spencer was excellent friends with Knox, he was just trying to be a good friend, and his thinking about our night in the hotel last January was really just because he was a randy goat. And then I rode the merry-go-round of possibilities until I arrived at the same conclusions again and the whole process would start over.
Short of actually talking to him about it directly—horrifying thought—the best thing I could do was get busy again and ignore his teasing smiles and knowing glances. If I was busy, I couldn't think. And I couldn't miss him. Because, flay me, I really did miss him. I missed his hulking frame taking up space and making the air around him unbearably warm. I missed verbally sparring with him and watching him do mundane things with disgusting ease like it was impossible for him to be bad at anything.
Damn him.
The snow had melted a bit before this cold snap, so although it was only ten degrees when I stormed across my yard toward the barn, the snow didn't try to creep inside my boots and wet my jeans. Then again, after twenty paces, following the shoveled path from my house to the heated enclosure, my lungs constricted painfully, rebelling against the onslaught of frigid air being sucked into their inflamed alveoli.
My understanding of pneumonia was limited to its effects on animal anatomy, but I rather thought Spencer was being dramatic aboutnevergoing out in the cold with a slight rattle in my lungs. That sounded like something a character inLittle House on the Prairiewould say—that I'd catch my death in the cold.
Then again, as I reached the barn, and my lungs sucked in painfully, fighting for air, I began to doubt that assumption. Maybe there was something to his advice, after all. But I was here, and I'd be damned if I didn't at least check on the animals to ensure they were healthy after a week of my absence. As I opened the door, and warmer air rushed over me, I breathed in the scent of straw and sweet hay. The soft shuffling and chuffing sounds of the animals greeted me, and I closed my eyes for a moment as the feeling ofhomewashed over me.
The goats had already been turned out to their pasture, and as I made my way between the stalls slowly, Jay poked his head out from one of the stalls he was mucking. "Bella?"
Irritation prickled at the base of my skull. He really wasn't capable of learning, my ranch hand. "Hey, Jay."
His boyish features lit up, and he leaned against the stall, wiping his nose on his jacket sleeve. "You all better?"
"Yeah," I smiled tightly. "Well, mostly. I wanted to check on the animals and see how they are."
"Spets is about to kick through the wall, he's so antsy," Jay grinned crookedly. "I'm sure he'd like a proper ride."
I passed the stalls that housed our retired and injured horses, stopping at Spets' stall. I leaned on the chest-height door, and suddenly, guilty pressure built in my chest that had nothing to do with the pneumonia. "Hey, buddy," I scratched out.
He lifted his head from the hay net, ears flicking forward the moment he spotted me. Like he was scolding me, he stomped once, releasing a low, throaty nicker, but then he leaned his strong neck toward me, and I reached for him gratefully. He let me press my hand against his velvet neck, and his warmth seeped into my fingers, grounding me in a way I hadn't known I'd needed. Spets leaned into me, and I pressed my forehead to his thick winter coat, my throat tight.
"I'm sorry, bud." He chuffed, like he was still annoyed with me, but then he nuzzled my shoulder hard, almost pushing me over, and I smiled. "Yeah, I get it. I'm the worst."
I'd learned to ride on Spets. He'd been on loan here at the ranch when I'd originally gotten the itch to learn how to ride and find a slice of freedom in my busy vet school days. I used to come to the ranch when it was still owned by a retired rancher named Charlie. He used to give riding lessons to help fund the rescue operation, and I'd spent weeks bonding with Spets and cautiously learning how to ride him until we were comfortablewith each other. Spets was half the reason I'd felt the need to rescue Mending Hearts. He, and all the other retired racers, arthritic horses, blind mares, and injured or lame animals wouldn't have found refuge anywhere else. They still couldn't.
They all needed me just as much as Spets did.
Jay helped me get Spets saddled up, and I promised I'd come back to help him with wellness checks on all the animals after I let Spets stretch his legs a little. Jay was turning out the other horses to the long paddock when I led Spets outside, and with a deep breath that stabbed my lungs with sharp icicles, I mounted him. My muscles screamed in protest, and before I'd even begun, my limbs trembled disconcertingly. I looked around, my breath fogging out before me and my mind pausing with misgivings. I couldn't possibly be so weak that I couldn't ride… right?
Spets shifted impatiently, pulling at the reins and shaking his head back and forth. He might be retired, but he was still a racehorse at heart. He wanted togo.
I led him down the snow-packed path, and he went willingly, already recognizing the route we would take between the round pen and stall barn, heading south toward Jay's cottage and eventually to open acres of snow-dusted land. I couldn't let him break out into a run with snow this deep, but we could follow the path at a moderate pace to the forest line. But as we passed the stall barn, the sound of tires squeaking on snow drew my attention, and I shifted in the saddle to look behind me.
Spencer's SUV came to a sliding stop ten feet from me, and as I guided Spets to turn and face him, Spencer stormed out of the car, slamming the door. "Arabella Rook."
Despite my earlier assurances that this was totally okay, my heart fired to life, banging away in my chest with anxious nerves.It's fine, Ara. You're on a horse. He's terrified of horses. He's not going to hunt you down like some kind of ex-con bounty hunter and tie you to the radiator.
His breath plumed out like furious steam from a boiling tea kettle. "I am going to tie you to the fucking floorboards, you absolute maniac."
I choked like my thoughts had actually gotten lodged in my throat. So much for the non-ex-con theory. Rather than let him know that I felt like total shit and was probably going to circle the barn and come back inside anyway, I let the needle of umbrage spur me toward rebellion. "You could," I taunted, turning Spets back around so I had to look over my shoulder. "If you can catch me."
