He deserved a response, but she couldn’t face it.
Truth was, he’d move on and find someone else to play with, if he hadn’t already met a new woman in Vegas. Jamie didn’t do emotions. He did sex. Great fucking sex.
Outside, Harry was lunging Trixie in the sand paddock, preparing for Shannon’s first lesson since the attack. Getting back in the saddle would remind her why she’d stayed and help her focus on training instead.
“You should’ve stayed the night, Shannon,” Harry said, his eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “You know there’s always a bed made up for you in the guest room. Are you sure it was just the flu?”
She kept her gaze on the sand, nodding as joined him.
“I just wasn’t feeling well. You know, woman stuff. But your stew…it made me feel better. It always does. You’ve always looked out for me, Harry.”
She leaned in for a quick hug, resting her cheek onhis shoulder, inhaling the familiar smell of his waxy jacket.
His arms closed around her, his tight hold sending a jolt of pain through her bruised arm. Still, she let him hold her, needing the comfort, wanting the connection.
She blinked back tears, swallowing the lump rising in her throat.
“Let’s get started,” she said, her voice strained.
Harry squeezed her wrist when she pulled back.
“We won’t stay out too long. There’s a storm brewing.” He nodded toward the darkening sky. “After this, come up to the house for lunch.”
She nodded and climbed onto the mounting block, running her hands over Trixie’s withers.
As much as she despised Niall for everything he’d taken from her, a swell of relief washed over her knowing Trixie would be safe with her around. He may have won this time, but it would be the last time he ever hurt her.
Hatred coursed through her like a hot current, every part of her body aching for revenge.
Fucking bastard.
Lying to her boss at Coffee Kicks had only deepened her humiliation. She hated the lies, the deceit, but there was no way she could face a week of shifts, or the people she’d have to pretend to be okay in front of.
She settled into the saddle, welcoming the familiar comfort of it, the place where she truly came alive. There was nowhere else on earth she’d rather be.
Trixie would be her salvation. And Jamie was just a fantasy.
Harry fiddled with the bridle while Shannon strapped on her gloves and clicked the safety clasp of her helmet into place. Gathering up the reins, she squeezed gently, urging Trixie forward.
The training session started with a warm-up, then flowed into a course of jumps.
Shannon rode with fierce determination, her body in perfect sync with Trixie. The mare responded well, clearing each fence with ease.
She focused on the strides and the rhythm, the tight precision of every movement bringing her a sense of control, a thrill to temporarily drown out all her emotions.
A low engine growl grew louder, followed by the unmistakable sound of a fast car.
“Jamie’s here!” Harry shouted as Shannon cleared the final oxer.
The sound of his name cut through her focus. Her heart thudded in her chest, and before she could stop herself, her eyes snapped to the laneway.
Jamie McGrath stepped out of his glossy blue Mustang.
His suit jacket clung to his broad, muscular torso, and his choppy hair, just messy enough to look intentional, made her stomach flip.
He walked with a confident, purposeful stride, his eyes landing on her straight away.
The world around her seemed to freeze.
