Chapter 4
Clean spring airbrushes my cheeks as I ride beside Anna, the horse beneath me keeping steady at a soft trot. Honey, the sweet mare I always opt to ride on days like this, moves around a bush to avoid plowing through it, while Sky, Brody’s horse, doesn’t bother. I laugh, watching as she shoves her muzzle into the thick leaves, searching for the raspberries that haven’t quite bloomed yet.
“You’re just as bad as Brody,” Anna scolds teasingly, leaning forward to pat Sky’s neck. Her soft brown hat shields her eyes from the sun as she sways on Sky’s back, and I kick myself for not grabbing mine when I left home. “You can have a treat when we get back home.”
“I can’t blame her for looking. Winter felt like it lasted forever this year. I’m about ready for some sun.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t take off somewhere tropical.”
“Oh, I was tempted. But I’d miss you and Bryce too much.” And there’s no way I could afford it. Trust me, I tried to find the funds the moment the temperature hit below minus twenty-five.
Anna glances across the distance between us and grins at me. “You’re a real sweet talker, you know?”
“I know. And you love it.”
“That we do.” She lets Sky lead us back in the direction of the stable, the guest house getting closer with every breath. “Do you think he’s alive in there? Brody said he spoke to him when he arrived this morning, but there’s been no sign of him since.”
“We’re talking about Garrison, right?”
“The one and only.”
“Has he met Wade yet?” I ask, my imagination threatening to run wild at that idea.
“Oh, he has. Brody said he made Garrison walk all the way from the main house to the guest house with his luggage dragging in the mud.”
I snort, and Honey, as if sensing the perfect time, replicates the noise. “Even the horses know that guy is no good.”
Anna is silent for a moment, the only sound between us our horses’ hooves on the growing grass. “Is it bad if I say that I don’t know if I hate him or not yet? He’s been an ass, sure. But I’ve met worse people.”
“Are you saying you want to give him a chance to prove he isn’t a Sir Douchealot?”
She laughs softly as we reach the back of the guest house. “Maybe? Hate is such a strong word, anyway. I don’t know if I truly hate anyone. Well, other than Stewart, maybe.”
It’s safe to say we all hate her ex-fiancé. I mean, come on, he cheated on her after three years together and had the audacity to come back begging for her back months later. He’s the reason she’s here in Cherry Peak and in love with Brody, so really, we can hate him while also being grateful for what she gained from his loss.
“That’s fair. Although, I think I’m almost there with my landlord,” I mutter.
“He’s still giving you trouble?”
Honey falls in line beside Sky, bringing me and Anna close enough for the sides of our boots to nearly touch as I say, “Apparently, because we work up a sweat in the studio, we should prefer cold showers. To be honest, I feel like he just doesn’t respect me. It’s the same shit I’ve been dealing with since I opened BB.”
The judgmental old people that make up most of Cherry Peak’s population have never approved of my pole studio. They think it’s dirty, like a strip club without the patrons and ridiculous income. As if there aren’t respectable, clean strip clubs out there, anyway.
I’ve tried not to give them an inch of brain space, but it’s hard when there are so many against you and your passion. I’m not ashamed of what I do. I love helping women find their confidence, and more often than not, that’s exactly what Beautifully Bold does. It doesn’t matter what our body type is, we can always feel powerful and confident and gorgeous.
I wish more people understood that. Or at least attempted to understand it.
“He’ll give me trouble until the lease is over in two years. I’m sure of it,” I tell her, shrugging my shoulder in an attempt to play it off.
“I’m sorry, P.”
With a flick of my wrist, I wave her off. “Enough of this. Tell me more about Garrison. I’m intrigued now.”
“I wish I could be more help, but I know almost as much about him as you do.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
The sun is too high to tell if the lights are on inside the guest house, and as we round the side of it, there’s no car parked outside. It’s as good as empty.
The twitching of Honey’s ears is the only tell I get before I’m pulling lightly on her reins, bringing her to a stop on the side of the gravel road. Anna’s already looking at me with wide eyes, Sky still beneath her.
She mouths something that looks like, “That’s him,” and I seal my lips, glancing at the man in the front yard. He’s tall, dressed in a pair of black dress pants and a matching button-up that’s rolled a few times up his forearms. From this distance, it’s hard to tell much more about him besides the terrible choice of ranch clothes and slicked-back head of brown hair. Well, and that he’s pissed off.
An array of rough words explodes out of him as he shoves his arm into the air and waves it around like a madman. The phone in his hand nearly goes flying across the yard when he checks the screen and then shoves it back into the air.
“What is he doing?” Anna whispers, both of us watching who I assume to be Garrison Beckett like a pair of hawks.
I don’t reply before urging Honey forward at a creeping pace. She walks softly past the porch and through the grass behind him. Movement behind me has me peeking over my shoulder to see Anna following.
“Can you hear me? Hello? Nathan?” he barks, continuing to wave his arm.
Honey stops as I lean back in the saddle and cock my head at the back of Garrison’s. “You’ll probably have better luck getting signal if you stopped waving your arm so much.”
Two things happen next.
First, Garrison whips around so quickly he loses his balance and stumbles back two steps.
Next, his eyes meet mine, and he jolts, losing his grip on his phone. Almost in slow motion, it goes flying through the air before dropping into the mud beside his shiny black shoes.
I offer him a wince-like smile, but he doesn’t give me anything close to one back.
“Jesus Christ! What the fuck is wrong with you?” he hisses, resting a hand over his chest.
The venom in his voice burns through me. I straighten my spine and narrow my eyes as they travel over him from head to toe.
I’m not surprised to find that he’s good-looking. It’s always the men with the shit personalities that get gifted ridiculously perfect physical genes. Yet, that knowledge doesn’t seem to dull the instant attraction that ripples through me as our glares meet, a ferocious silver fire blazing between us.
His chestnut-brown hair is pushed out of his face, stray chunks falling over his ears and shining beneath the sun, while long, thick black lashes flutter furiously over his angry green eyes. I’m used to seeing bulky men out here on the ranch, but Garrison isn’t that. He’s slim, but from the muscles bulging beneath the sleeves of his button-up, he clearly isn’t lacking strength.
In any other situation, I’d probably be drooling over the guy. But as he plants his hands on his hips and scowls at me, his brows flying to his hairline as he waits expectantly for me to answer, I metaphorically seal my vagina up tight.
Absolutely. Not.
“Have I lost signal with you too?” he snarks.
I blink long and slow. “Are you speaking to me? Or is there someone else behind me? I know Anna is back there, but there’s no way you’d speak to her like that either. Right?”
His brows lower the slightest bit, but not enough. “Do you often sneak up behind people and eavesdrop on their private conversations?”
“Unless you were having a private conversation with yourself, I wasn’t eavesdropping on anything.”
“So, you just like sneaking up on people, then?”
I feel Anna’s presence grow closer and closer, and then there’s a hand on my back. It’s a sweet gesture, but it’s not needed. Garrison Beckett isn’t going to get under my skin that easily.
“Do you like being an asshole?”
He has the nerve to appear dumbstruck at the question. As if he’s never been asked that before. “Excuse me?”
“Hello, Garrison,” Anna says tightly.
He drifts his stare toward her, and finally, those naturally blush-pink lips spread into a weak attempt of a smile, but one nonetheless. Tipping his chin, he mutters, “Anna.”
“This is Poppy, one of my closest friends. I’m sure you’ll be seeing quite a bit of one another over the next two months, so if we could please just . . . attempt to get along?”
His nostrils flare, displeasure filling his expression. I stiffen, immediately hating that I’m offended by his reaction to Anna’s suggestion. I’m not desperate to be his best fucking friend or anything, but damn.
“I’ll avoid the guest house from now on. Wouldn’t want you to ruin another phone,” I tell him, my tone dripping in sarcasm.
“I’m sure there’s room for all of us here,” he offers begrudgingly.
Our eyes clash again, that same flame burning anew, travelling lower and lower . . . I shove that thought away. Angst has always turned me on, but nope. Not this time.
I lean into Honey’s body and give her a couple of pats on the neck before readjusting my hold on her reins. “Alright then. Have a nice afternoon, Garrison.”
“See you,” Anna says. Neither of us gets a response.
Honey turns, showing the man our behinds and leading us far, far away from this now cursed place. Each jostle on her back rattles my mind. I swallow and block the past few minutes from my mind. And when Anna trots up beside me, I keep my mouth shut and let her speak.
“So much for giving him a chance to prove himself,” she grunts.
“Oh, he proved himself alright. Sir Douchealot it is from now on.”
“At least he’s handsome?”
I choke on a laugh, focusing on the stable ahead of us. “I can always count on you to see the glass half-full when I can’t.”
“It’s a solid fifty-fifty effort, I think. You can’t always be the sunshine.”
“And you can?”
She snorts loudly. “I’m so not sunshiny all the time.”
“I guess you’re right. Especially not on your period.”
“Name one person who’s ever been a ray of sunshine on their period.”
I laugh, relieved that the past few minutes haven’t affected my ability to do so. “I can’t.”
She reaches a hand across the gap between us, and I take it, linking our fingers. “Maybe I’ll have to sic you on Garrison the next time you’re on yours.”
“You’re a cruel little thing, Annalise Heights,” I tease.
“The game has begun, Poppy. This queen isn’t about to let a pawn infiltrate her home and spread its bitterness without a fight. You’d be better off tightening your defenses too.”
“Oh, my defenses are tight. Don’t worry about that.”
Or at least, I sure hope so.