I got out of bed and pulled on my jeans, T-shirt, and flannel. I grabbed my phone and made my way down the stairs, then down the hall a little on the third floor, then the second, and finally across the bottom floor.
The house was big, but it hadn’t always been that way. Our parents had expanded on it gradually, when space eventually ran out after yet another kid was born. I loved the house, and I also knew every square inch of it well enough to be able to get into the kitchen without a sound. Everything creaked, of course, when you weren’t avoiding those spots.
I’d gotten to bed late after working with one of the rescues and then taking a small walk with her in the empty paddock where everyone had been taken in for the night already. She’d been severely bullied by other horses and being able to sniff around the paddock while I was at the other end of the lead for safety had been good for her.
I grabbed a bribe from the fridge and made my way out of the house as quietly as I could without forgetting my ball cap that hung by the front door. As he tended to be, Juanpablo the damned watch donkey/foghorn trotted from his little shelter and came to the fence.
“Don’t you even. I got you carrots and bread,” I told him when he lifted his nose a little.
Instead of braying, he shook his head, then accepted the bribes and I could be on my way.
Nights on the ranch were so damn peaceful. Everyone was asleep or getting there. The nights when I wandered back to my barn to sleep in my office were some of the best times of my life.
I could’ve walked the route—the shortcut behind the other barns, across paddocks, through gates and over fences—with my eyes closed. Which, since it was dark, it pretty much felt like. I used my phone’s flashlight where needed, and didn’t jump when every now and then, a barn cat appeared like a spirit from somewhere. They chirped at me and most of them continued on their way.
Only one, a big, tabby boy called Thomas O’Malley—because obviously—chose to walk with me for the last bit of the way, because he knew I had a secret cat food stash in my office.
Look, if I wanted to sleep next to a cat, I wasn’t beyond bribery.
“Good of you to join me, buddy,” I told him as he followed me up the stairs.
The horses that were in their stalls closest to the stairs didn’t react. They were all used to me popping up every now and then.
I gave Thomas some of the stinky expensive stuff, then sat on the couch and took off my boots.
As I made myself comfortable, I listened to the sounds of the horses downstairs. It was like the sweetest lullaby most nights, but tonight my mind went back to Goddamn Cahill.
Some part of me had started to call him Carter in my head, but I disliked that. He was….
I grunted and turned onto my back. Thomas’s plate clattered like it always did when he wanted to make extra sure there was nothing left.
Carter had been easier to dislike before I’d seen the looks he gave Ramona sometimes. Like he couldn’t believe how beautiful she was or how lucky he’d gotten to own a horse like her.
The shittiest thing was that I could tell he’d be good for her. He just needed to stop treating me like I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing.
There was a reason his assistant—I snorted loud enough for Thomas to throw a glance at me where he’d stopped to clean his whiskers next to the couch—had picked me. I had a feeling a man with the kind of money Cahill had wouldn’t settle for shit. That he’d trusted her when she’d said I was the best for the job spoke volumes.
He just needed to get out of his own way and even more so, out ofmine. I knew enough about men like him to know we’d continue to clash for a while still.
I just fucking hoped that there was more to the man than the surface. That there was a real reason for why he’d wanted something as specific as Ramona and not just some “saw a picture of a snowflake appaloosa and decided to have one” bullshit.
Sensing that Thomas was about done with his bath, I turned to face the back of the couch. I had a fleece throw I pulled over my upper body, up to my shoulder. Thomas hopped up and settled into the crook of my knees.
The purring started immediately. I closed my eyes and relaxed. “Thanks, buddy,” I whispered, then let the exhaustion take me.
Since Cahill wasn’t going to be around for a couple of weeks, I’d decided that I was going to send him the regular messages I would any other owner.
So, I snapped photos of Ramona. I recorded voice messages when something interesting happened. I texted him, too.
It wasn’t daily, because I didn’t work with her daily. I didn’t send him anything more than I did my other clients that might like that sort of communication.
One day, I took her on a long lead rope and went for a walk in the back pasture where the rescue cows were.
Later, I sat in my office and recorded a voice message.
“So I took your girl for a stroll today. I think it’s safe to say she’s never encountered cows before.” I chuckled. “At least my reflexes prevented me from being dragged back to the barn when she heard the first moo too close. We tried to approach again a few times until she was calmer, but there’s definitely some desensitization we need to do on that front.” I sighed. “But she’s done good. She’s smart and capable.” Then, because it was getting close to when he was coming back, I added, “Get yourself some proper ranch clothes. From the kind of store where we might get our stuff. No designer crap that won’t survive the firstcontact with the ground.” Because he was going to fall off a horse sooner or later.
I sent the message and sighed again. The longer he stayed away, the less I disliked him. Which was a problem, because I sure didn’t want to like him. He was a client and that was it. But I was also pretty fucking sure that him just appearing back on the ranch would raise my blood pressure enough to remind me why I trusted my gut feeling these days.
