Chapter 18
Riley
“I’m so late,” I mutter, tapping the steering wheel as I wait for the longest red light in the history of red fecking lights.
The hours have evaporated, and I am sure Spencer needs to be in his meeting by now. He’s probably already called it. After another ten minutes of navigating peak traffic, I pull into the grand driveway of Silver Elite Stables.
Even being the second time here, I’m blown away.
I can only imagine the small fortune people pay to stable their horses here. The long, elegant driveway is flanked by white-fenced fields and dressage arenas. Tall pencil pines stand like sentries, dotted every thirty feet or so.
The place is . . . impressive.
I pull into the parking lot by Spencer’s huge black pickup and kill the engine.
I’m out and gawking, turning on my feet as I take it all in.
“Holy fancy,” I mutter, collecting my jaw as I make for the white building trimmed with silver accents and a plaque inscribed Reception.
Wow, Ives. You were born into the right family, little one.
The heavy-looking front door is weightless as I push it open and cross the threshold.
Inside is as incredible as outside. A young woman, dressed immaculately in a white uniform and shining silver name badge, stands.
“Hello, welcome to Silver Elite Stables. How has your day been?”
I track my attention back to her after glancing around the foyer of dreams. Imagine if my someday clinic could have a lavish area like this to welcome animals and their owners.
“Ah, hi.” I close in on the white reception counter. “I’m here to collect Ivy.”
“Yes, Mr. Lockwood mentioned you would be here.” She glances her smart watch, also white. “Forty minutes ago.”
Feck.
“Sorry I’m late, traffic was—”
“Come with me, I’ll take you out to the barn.”
She’s walking down the corridor off the side of reception, and I almost lose her as she disappears. Jogging after her, I clutch my keys and phone in one hand.
“I am really sorry for being late,” I offer.
She glances back, a smile on her face that doesn’t meet her eyes. Her dark ponytail swishes side to side over the white uniform. Her steps are snappy and quick.
Okay . . . so shiny and pretty doesn’t equate to friendly or happy. Got it.
She pushes through a door, and we spill out into the sunlight a beat later. Wasting no time, she walks me to the furthest big white barns. As we get closer, I can hear voices.
“Wait here. I will let Mr. Lockwood know you have arrived.”
She points to a spot by the open barn door, waiting for me to in fact stop before she turns and heads inside.
I peer around the doorjamb to find everyone has found a bale or mounting stool to sit on. Spencer sits on a bale, hand by his sides as he listens and his staff members talk. He looks—
Ivy sits on his lap, his other hand holding her close. She sucks her little fist as he nods, his attention solely on his staff. A half smile tips up one side of my mouth. Spencer is good with people.
His staff continue to talk about stable members, and from what I can gather, this meeting is about their inappropriate behavior and shortcomings.
Hell.
After ten minutes, the conversation dies down, and Spencer invites anyone to bring up any other issues via email if they don’t feel comfortable voicing it in front of everyone.
A young guy in a cap gives him a nod as they break away.
I roll back onto the wall in time for the first of the staff to exit the building. The woman from the reception walks out with them, only offering me a shallow smile.
Okay . . .
“You can come in, O’Malley,” Spencer calls.
Heat flushes my face. I feel like a kid caught stealing from the cookie jar.
“Hey,” I mutter, crossing the hay-littered barn to where he stands rocking Ivy.
When I stop, looking up at them both, his smile is sad.
“What happened?” My brows fall.
“My father dropped in. That was my last meeting. I’m done with the family business and all that entails, effective immediately.”
“What the hell?” Heat coils in my gut, spreading through my veins.
“There was a situation this morning with a patron. Instead of letting it slide, I kicked her off the premises. And because of a backstory you don’t want to know about, she escalated it. Which got me fired. Not before I terminated her membership, though.”
A hint of satisfaction glimmers through his sad expression.
“Oh, Spencer.”
I try to take Ivy from his arms, but his grip on her doesn’t wane.
His gaze is stuck on my face as a million different emotions filter through it.
“You want me to talk to them, say it’s my fault Ivy was here. We can still pull off the cousin stor—”
“I told him she was mine, Riles.”
“What?”
The pride that swells tangles with the fear of what this means for Spencer. In one day he’s lost his job and told his father he has a daughter. I know now that not owning Ivy was never a pride thing, it was a self-defense mechanism against his tyrannous parents.
“That’s a lot,” I say quietly.
His nod is almost absent-minded.
“Spenc—”
“It’s alright, Riles. I’ll figure something out.” He glances at his watch. “We should get going. I’m betting if I’m still here after five, I’ll be the next one to be escorted off the grounds.”
“Right.”
Now, he hands Ivy over to me. “I have to clear out my office, I’ll see you at home.”
His throat bobs.
Something tightens around my next breath. “You need me to pick up supper?”
“Sure, Riles.”
Feck.
I’ve seen annoyed Spencer.
Arrogant Spencer.
Happy Spencer.
This sadness . . . feels wrong in so many ways. He may have annoyed the shite out of me when we first met, but the man has grown on me over the last few months. He’s been out of his depth and learned how to swim. He’s had his life upturned and figured out how to make things still work.
He may have hired a live-in nanny, but I can’t say I haven’t benefited from that decision. Not only do I have the privilege of caring for Ivy, but I am paid well for it. Generously so.
When Spencer disappears inside, I snuggle Ives. “Let’s go home, little lady. Daddy could use some kindness tonight, so we’ll cheer him up, hey.”
It’s been a long time since I’ve felt the need to look after someone who wasn’t family. The only serious and relatively short relationship I had at nineteen fizzled out when I put my family first. As I should have. We’d lost enough. I wasn’t about to abandon the people I love most.
My thoughts drift to Chlo.
“I know what, Ives, we’ll pick up dinner and FaceTime Aunty Chloe. She’ll love to see you, sweet girl.”
Ivy smiles at me.
Oh shite.
Feck it, where is Spencer when Ivy does this kind of stuff.
“Please tell me your first smile wasn’t for me, Ivy Lockwood. Save those special things for Daddy.”
I’m strapping Ivy into her car seat when an older woman wanders to her car, parked on the other side of mine.
“You must be Riley.”
I turn back and straighten. “Hi, yes, that’s me.”
“Oh honey, that accent. Loving it. I’m Glenda.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, it gets a lot of mentions over here.”
“I’m sure it does.” She winks at me.
Confused, I glance at Ivy.
“You know.” She steps closer. “I had a suspicion she was Spencer’s. I guess she gets her complexion from her mama.” Her gaze travels my face.
“What? Ah, no. I’m just the nanny.”
My hand weaves into my long ponytail, twisting as her brows fall, her head tilting like she suspects I’m lying to her.
“Huh. Could have fooled me, sweetheart. From what I hear, you have our guy on his best behavior, if you know what I mean.”
“I—”
“We see the difference in Spencer these days. He’s never had much he cared for, bar that monstrous truck. Fatherhood looks good on him, and it’s lovely to meet you.”
My mouth opens to respond, but she’s dropping into her car before I can formulate a sentence to rebut her assumptions.
With a sigh I feel from the depth of my bones, I sink into my own car and turn over the ignition.
“Home sweet home, kiddo.”
Thirty minutes later, we walk through the front door with four bags of Chinese takeout. One can never have too many noodles, right?
Besides, it feels like a comfort food sort of night.
Maybe a night of movies and letting the world go feck itself.
I’m plating up, Ivy sitting in her high chair, when Spencer walks through the front door.
“Honey, I’m home,” he chirps.
He sounds . . . happy?
I huff a half-amused sound as he sits at the counter. His keys and phone hit the surface as he says, “We have another problem, Riles.”
“We do?” I slide his bowl of food over to him.
I kind of like how my name has been shortened to Riles. Only a few people ever call me that, but from Spencer . . .
“Yeah. The apartment came with the job, as my father felt it appropriate to tell me on the drive home. He loves kicking a dog when it’s down.” The last few words are soft.
“Spence—”
“I’m okay. Just . . .”
And it hits me. This is the only place the three of us have.
“So, we’re homeless?” I ask. I can’t help the panic that lines every stupid syllable. I know this is not his fault.
“No. We are not going to be that.”
“Spencer,” I breathe.
Something like desire flickers through his eyes, but they narrow as he plucks up his phone. “Brades has an empty worker’s cottage on the ranch. Hang on . . .”
He flicks a message off and drops the phone to the counter.
My grip is turning white around the fork I hold. Spencer rises, rounds the counter, and hauls me into his chest. My cheek squishes against his hard muscle.
“Not homeless. I promise you that. Breathe, Riles.”
I choke past the last breath that snagged in my throat.
Stop it, Riley. This is not only about you. This is not the time . . .
Calm the feck down.
My choppy, short breaths don’t respond to my internal chastising.
A large hand cradles my head, running over my hair.
“You’re okay. We’re okay. I’ll make sure we are.”
After a handful of heartbeats, he releases me. I stare up at him, cheeks flushed, hands now curled around the opening of his shirt, clinging like it’s a damn lifeline. His fingers close around my biceps, not letting me out of his space.
“What will you do now?” I try to put distance between us, but his hold doesn’t budge.
“I have the Pbr income. If Brades can let us rent that cottage . . . We’re good.”
“What if you get hurt on the circuit, and they drop you from the team . . . What if your father takes your truck, or has some kind of sway with the Pbr?”
I know I’m panicking.
I have never unraveled, not like this. Somehow, the weight of being twelve and left with a farm to run and five siblings to feed comes flooding back in all over again.
The helplessness I felt. The crippling heartbreak that threatened to drag me into its dark depths every day, every night, for that first year . . .
Something meets my face.
Cool, crinkling.
My next breath makes it expand.
My ass hits the hard seat of the counter stool. The room around me blurs.
Spencer blurs.
But I can still feel him in my space.
I can still feel him.
He’s right there.
On the next, deeper exhale, the bag inflates with a crackle.
“Good girl,” Spencer says in a raw, low tone.
He’s losing his home, and I’m the one fecking panicking.
Oh god. My cheeks burn.
I bat the bag away as a sob tumbles out. “I’m sorry.”
“Riles, did anyone ever tell you holding all that shit in is no good for you?”
When I look up, his face is pulled into a soft, playful smile.
Oh bollocks.
It’s all I can do to roll my eyes at him. Another tear slips over, coursing down my cheek.
His palm is on my jaw, thumb brushing the moisture away before I take another breath.
Spencer moves closer, until he’s standing between my legs. My chin still rests in his palm as he tilts my head up. Our gazes clash as he breathes, “O’Malley, did you just roll your eyes at me?”