Chapter 26
“What do you think?” I asked after Blaine eased Belle from a lope to a trot and then slowed to a walk. Next to me, James practically vibrated with excitement.
Blaine shook his head side to side, the movements slow and shocked. “I can’t believe I’m sitting here on Belle the Bitch. Thought she’d dust me for sure.”
“Hey!” James protested. “Don’t call her that. She’s a horse. She doesn’t know you’re joking.”
I snorted, and she flashed me a cheeky grin. I soaked up all that warmth like she was the last of my wood stores in a brutal winter and the groundhog had just predicted a late spring. My girl had blown hot and cold since the night we danced in my kitchen. Sometimes I could swear she was avoiding me. But other times I managed to get her off Lodestar Ranch property long enough to remind her how things were when I wasn’t her boss.
In the week since her accident, James and Blaine had worked together to keep Belle’s training moving forward. James had re-introduced Belle to the bit and bridle the same way she had with everything else—one slow step at a time. She had started her on the bridle without a rider. Just walking around, learning it didn’t have to hurt. Yesterday Blaine had gotten on for one ride around the ring at a sedate walk.
Today marked her first real ride.
A fucking miracle.
“You did great, Blaine,” James said. “Nice, quiet hands, just like we talked about.”
He slid from the saddle and patted her on the neck before he handed the reins to Jesse for her cooldown and grooming. “You were right. She has a sensitive mouth.”
For some reason, that made him frown. Maybe he was remembering all the mistakes we had made that had led us here. All of us thinking what Belle needed was an attitude adjustment and a firm hand when really the opposite was true. Each new trainer more determined than the last to be the one to bring her in line. I rubbed my jaw. I didn’t like being the cause of a horse’s pain, and because Blaine wasn’t an asshole, I was willing to bet he felt the same way.
I turned to James, but her eyes were on the stable.
“I’m going to help Jesse,” she said, pushing away from the rail.
Avoiding me again.
“She says her ribs barely hurt anymore,” Blaine said. He tugged his hat off, swiped the sweat from his forehead with his shirt sleeve.
I nodded. “Another week or two and she’ll be good to ride again.” That was good news, so I was surprised when Blaine frowned again. “Something on your mind?”
“Been thinking about the bridle. She told you she suspected Belle’s issues were in her mouth?”
“She did. We talked it over before we went to Colorado Springs for the rodeo.”
“Right. She told me, too.” He turned the brim of his hat in his hands. “Makes me wonder why Steven came out here that day, swinging the bridle around like a fucking fool. Knowing James was on Belle and Belle was afraid of the bridle.”
I stilled. “He said he didn’t know.”
Blaine looked at me. “He knew.”
He knew? Son of a bitch. White hot fury churned in my gut. “I think it’s time I had a talk with him.”
Blaine cocked his head and eyeballed me suspiciously. “Talk, huh? I’ll come with you.”
“Probably best if you don’t.”
Blaine snorted. “Best if you don’t have a witness, you mean.”
Steven was in the breakroom, scrolling whatever-the-fuck on his phone, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, his boots on the table. It pissed me off. People had to eat there.
“What’s up, boss?” he asked with that stupid little smirk that suggested everything was a joke.
“Get your shoes off the goddamn table.”
Part of me hoped he would refuse, or at least take his sweet time to comply. Anything to give me a reason to put my hands on him. The saner part—the voice that unfortunately sounded a lot like Brax—warned me that if I touched him now with all this rage boiling my blood, I might not be able to stop.
His eyebrows shot up as he slowly lowered his legs to the ground. “Sure thing.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, tucking my hands safely underneath my biceps. “Thought you might be interested in knowing that James seems to have worked out Belle’s bridle issues.”
Steven twitched his hand, like he was flinging something off. His gaze skated from mine. “That’s good.”
And I knew. I fucking knew.
“You want to explain?” It was a struggle to keep my voice even. To keep my hands tucked away where they couldn’t wrap around his neck.
His eyes met mine only briefly before darting away again. His fingers flexed against his thigh. “Explain what?”
“Why you walked into the training ring, where you knew James was on Belle, shaking that bridle when you knew goddamn well Belle would react?”
“You think I got James hurt on purpose?” He pushed to his feet. “You think I would do that?”
I didn’t move. Couldn’t, or I would throttle the man where he stood. “Did you?”
“We’ve all been dusted by Belle. How the hell was I supposed to know your delicate princess would get her ribs cracked?”
That was as good as a confession that he had purposefully taunted Belle into throwing James without stopping to think through the consequences. He was right that we had all been tossed at one time or another, by Belle or another horse—I had personally lost count of how many times I had hit the ground doing dumb shit as a teenager—and most of the time, all we walked away with was bruised muscles and sore pride. Zack got a concussion once, terrifying my mom.
But some people didn’t walk away at all.
And we all knew that, too. That was the risk that came with sitting on top of a thousand-pound prey animal. They were hardwired to lose their shit and take off.
This dumb fuck had put one of my people in harm’s way, carelessly and without remorse. I didn’t take that lightly.
I intended to say all that, but what came out was, “Watch your fucking mouth when you talk about her.”
He stared at me while I silently dared him to say it again. To give me a reason to take out my hands.
But he shook his head and exhaled hard through his nose. “Right. Whatever you say.”
“Pack your things. You’re out of here by the end of the day.”
From the way he reared back, I knew he hadn’t been expecting that. That surprised me. This entitled dickweed actually believed he hadn’t done anything wrong.
“You’re firing me over a goddamn joke?” he demanded, disbelief dripping on every word.
“Your goddamn joke could have gotten someone killed. You’re lucky all she got was a few bruised ribs.”
Steven snorted. “She gets a little banged up and runs straight to you. Of course. Should have seen this coming. Fucking slut.”
I moved. One hand grabbed him by the collar. I planted my other fist in his face. Once to teach him a lesson. The second punch was just for fun. Pure fury demanded a third blow, but before I could land it, Blaine was there, hauling me back.
“Enough,” he said. “You made your point—”
Steven took the opportunity to get in a blow of his own, getting me right on my jaw. My head snapped back, knocking against Blaine, who fell back only a step before quickly recovering.
“Seriously, man? You can’t take a swing at someone who’s being held back.” Blaine rubbed his forehead where we had knocked together and shot Steven a look of disgust. “I should kick your ass for that.” He grabbed him by the shoulder. “Count yourself lucky that I’m gonna walk your pathetic ass out of here instead. Let’s go.”
Finally showing a lick of self-preservation, Steven didn’t protest as Blaine marched him to the door.
Our eyes met on his way out. He touched his hand to his mouth, found the blood there, and wiped it on his jeans. “This isn’t over.”
“Stay away from James, or you’ll be begging me to finish it before I’m done with you,” I promised.
Blaine’s quick head shake held a warning, but I was too furious to care. James was off limits and the sooner Steven made his peace with that, the better for everyone involved.
But I suspected he meant what he said. This wasn’t over.