• Thirty-Seven •
I wondered if I was the only one to see him this way.
Capri
They were all gone. It was over. Sure, the townspeople would talk, but they’d been making up stories about the Shephards for as long as I could remember. At one point today, the way the sheriff had looked at Thatcher, I’d almost thought he was scared of him. They truly believed the gossip.
Thatcher walked me down to the stables. He wasn’t letting me out of his sight. It was odd, returning here. It had been days, but felt much longer. I’d left here one person and returned another. Everything was different. I stood, watching him talk to Miller, who had Zephyr out at the track. With all that had happened, I’d forgotten about him choosing Carmen to ride him. The race was a week away now. I was disappointed, but it didn’t sting like it had before. Carmen had experience that I didn’t.
I was only a few feet away, but Thatcher kept looking in my direction, as if he was afraid I’d disappear. His need to keep me close to him gave me hope that maybe this thing with us had a future. I wanted it, but with him, that was uncertain.
“You feel like riding today?” Thatcher asked me.
I glanced at Miller to him. Did he mean me riding Zephyr? Perhaps he needed exercise. I nodded, fighting the feeling of failure. I wasn’t good enough to race him, but I could handle his workouts. This had been a long day, and I was tired. My emotions were getting the best of me.
“He’s not been taken out at a full race since Carmen was here two days ago,” Miller said from behind him. “And Carmen still hasn’t made the time that Capri did on him.”
I swung my gaze from Thatcher to Miller. I’d had better time than Carmen? Then, why was he the one racing and not me?
“No,” Thatcher bit out, his expression turning fierce.
“No what?” I asked him.
“You’re not taking him out at full speed.” His jaw ticced as he stared down at me.
“I don’t understand. Why not? If I’m faster on Zephyr, then—”
“No!” Thatcher snarled. “You aren’t riding a horse at that pace.”
Miller said nothing. He wasn’t going to argue with him. No one would. But me.
“Thatcher, why can’t I show you how fast he can go? We would win every race you put him in at that speed.”
He shook his head as his nostrils flared. I’d pushed him too much, and I could see the darkening about to snap. His large hand wrapped around my upper arm, and he began pulling me with him as he stalked back to the stables. Leaving Miller alone with Zephyr. I had to jog to keep up with his long strides. I was missing something here, and I couldn’t figure out what it was.
Did he not want me to win? Was he afraid I’d go race for other stables if I rode Zephyr and won?
A blonde I’d seen here before stepped out of the entrance before we made it there. Her dark blue crop top and tiny skirt, which might also just be a crop top, caused me to slow. I didn’t want to see him with someone like her. The kind that he normally had around him. She was a great big reminder of all I didn’t have. Starting with her boobs and ending with her legs that went on for days.
“Hey, Thatch,” she drawled in a syrupy-sweet voice that made me want to vomit.
He said nothing as he continued hauling me with him, as if he couldn’t get me away from the practice track fast enough.
She stepped in front of him and tilted her head to the side, causing her long blonde hair to slide down over her cleavage. “I’ve missed you.”
“Move,” he demanded.
His harsh tone seemed to startle her, and she tensed, then stepped out of his way.
“I don’t work tonight. I thought we’d play.” She tried again to get his attention.
Nothing from Thatcher.
He might be refusing to let me ride Zephyr and currently about to pull my arm out of my socket, but I smiled. I couldn’t help it. She was hard for me not to look at, and I didn’t swing that way. Thatcher ignoring her must be something she wasn’t accustomed to because her face fell. She’d not expected him to not be interested in whatever play she had in mind.
Sebastian stepped out of the office as we came barreling inside the stables. His gaze swung from his brother to me. The immediate concern drew on his face was clear. He thought I was in danger.
“Thatcher,” he called.
He didn’t respond.
“Jesus, at least slow the fuck down! She’s struggling to keep up with you!” he shouted as we turned the corner.
He heard that, apparently, because he stopped, and his eyes bored down on me. There it was. That look. The one where he appeared haunted, torn, remorseful. It took away the edge that seemed to always be in his eyes. The one that kept others back. I wondered if I was the only one to see him this way.
“Was I hurting you?” he asked. His voice hoarse.
I had to answer this carefully. “Not hurting exactly. It was just difficult to keep up. Your legs are much longer than mine.”
His eyes dropped to my legs, and he winced as if the thought pained him. He ran a hand over his head, and I noticed his breathing was hard. What had triggered this? Why was my riding Zephyr suddenly an issue? A couple of weeks ago, he’d had no problem. I’d been the only one other than him to ride his horse. Now, he seemed like the idea was making him literally ill.
He bent down, then slid his arm under my legs and picked me up. What the actual hell was he doing?
“Thatcher!”
This time, he was ignoring me as he headed toward the back entrance of the stables that led out to the parking lot.
Were we leaving?
“That’s, uh, better,” I heard Sebastian call out.
Thatcher’s arms flexed, and I heard him make a deep sound in his chest like a growl.
“Where are we going?” I asked him.
He looked at me, his eyes drifting over my face as if he was trying to memorize it. “Home.”
Home. To his house? Was that home? Because he’d made it real clear I wasn’t going back to mine. I had thought we’d discuss it once we were back here. Talk about things when he wasn’t holding a gun and calmer. We had faced the hurdle of coming back to Madison. Cleared up the search for me and the accusations that he’d been the one to take me.
I had expected him to be less on edge now that was all done. He clearly was not.
We reached his truck, and he jerked open the door and placed me inside, then buckled me in. I could buckle myself, but at the moment, pointing that out seemed useless. He was in his head, and I didn’t think it was a good place most of the time. I wondered how much of that was his mother’s fault. She hadn’t been there today. He was a grown man, but it was still odd to me that she hadn’t come to support him. It was her house that it had all taken place in after all.
Needing to comfort him, I reached up and brushed his hair off his forehead. He paused, and his eyes locked with mine. Smiling at him, I brushed my thumb over his lips, like he often did mine.
His nostrils flared. “I need to get you home.”
I nodded. Whatever it was that was driving him to need this, I would go along with it. I wasn’t letting the Zephyr thing go. We would talk about it. But first, he had to fight whatever demon was currently in his head.
Storm stepped out of the stables as Thatcher walked around the front of the truck. He glanced from Thatcher to me and laughed, shaking his head before sticking a cigarette in his mouth and lighting it up. The driver’s door opened, and I turned my attention to Thatcher as he climbed inside.
“Are you gonna tell me what this was all about?” I asked him as he backed up his truck.
He shot me a look before glaring out the front window as he headed toward the main house. I didn’t want to go there. I knew he had his own house, but I wasn’t sure where it was. The Shephards’ mansion was beautiful, but it was too big. Too formal. I couldn’t imagine having grown up in something like that. My parents had been a lot to deal with, and they had their faults, but our home had been warm, cozy, lived in.
“It’s dangerous,” Thatcher said.
I swung my gaze back to look at him. “Dangerous? What is?”
“You riding Zephyr at that kind of speed.”
I shook my head. “He wanted to go that fast. I didn’t push him to open up like that. I would never force him to hit a speed that would hurt him. He’s a racehorse. I—”
“NOT the fucking horse, Capri! YOU! It is dangerous for you!” he shouted, his hand slamming against the steering wheel, causing me to jump. He sucked in a deep, raspy breath. “I’d never have let you on him if I thought he’d hit that speed. I knew he was fast. He was bred to be a winner. But …” He shook his head. “You can’t ride him. I can’t handle it.”
I dropped my gaze to my hands clasped together tightly in my lap. I was a jockey. That was what I did. I rode fast horses. Sure, I’d never been on one that could get that kind of time, but in my line of work, that was a huge deal. I would make a name for myself. I would leave a mark. People would know who I was. Carmen hadn’t been able to make Zephyr make that time. But I had.
“He’s big. Bigger than Bloodline. Add that to his speed, and I can’t allow you to race him.” He wasn’t shouting anymore. His voice sounded pained. “Just knowing you were on him at that speed, and I wasn’t there … if something had happened …”
I started to point out that something could happen on any horse. Racing one wasn’t considered a safe sport. People were injured, among other things. He knew this, though I was afraid making my point wouldn’t help my situation. It could make it worse.
Lifting my gaze from my lap to the window, I saw we weren’t headed to the big house now. We were on another road. I glanced in the rearview mirror to see the Shephards’ mansion in the distance. We’d gone past it. Thatcher had a house on the property. I wondered if Sebastian did too.
Not that this was important. Right now, I had a man who could literally end my career. His father had given me a chance to make it in the racing world, and Thatcher might take it away. I wanted to be furious at him and be able to yell. Scream even. But I lacked the drive to do it. The truth was, as frustrated as I was with Thatcher at the moment, I wanted to comfort him. Reassure him. When a man showed no emotion for so long and then you started to see glimpses of it, when he showed you his soul when no one else got a glimpse, it was powerful.
Being a jockey was my dream. I wanted it.
But being the one to reach Thatcher’s darkness was more important. He wasn’t taking racing away from me. Just this one race. This one horse. Sure, I could set records on tracks with him, and thinking about not getting a chance did twist my gut, but I was in love with Thatcher. I knew without a doubt that I was now. I wanted his peace more than I wanted my dream. If he needed to feel as if he were keeping me safe, then I would let him.
I had no idea where this was headed with us or how long I’d keep his attention. Right now, I felt really damn important to him, but would it last? Would he still screw other women? I didn’t think I could handle that. I had to address it with him, but today didn’t seem to be that day.
We’d been through a lot, and I wouldn’t push him.
The tree line opened up ahead of us.
A white stone or brick—I couldn’t be sure—home that sat in the clearing wasn’t what I had expected Thatcher to live in. It was larger than any one man needed. It was larger than any family of five needed. Tall windows that arched rather than being rectangular lined the front of the home. A small balcony sat over the two front doors that also rounded at the top. The wide front porch was low to the ground with only three equally wide steps that led up to it. Flickering gas-flamed lights were on the columns at the top of those steps. There were two large white oak trees that framed the house on each side with what I believed was called a sweet gum tree in the front of the left side of the home.
“Home,” he said as he pulled around the back side of the house.
The door to a five-car garage that couldn’t be seen from the front opened, and he pulled inside. There were other cars here. This was the only truck. I glanced down the line of them, then back to him. His sole attention was on me. I could see the need for my approval. Again, something I’d never expected from Thatcher.
“This … is your house? You live here alone?”
He nodded.
I let out a small, surprised laugh. “Thatcher, this house is stunning. I …” I shook my head in disbelief. “I never imagined this was what you lived in.”
The corner of his lips quirked. “What did you expect?”
I shrugged. I didn’t know. But not this. “I hadn’t thought about it that hard. I just didn’t think you lived in a house that could be on HGTV’s Million Dollar Homes .”
He frowned. “I have no idea what that is.”
I laughed. “Of course you don’t.” Then, I reached for the handle on my door to get out.
“You’ll stay here then?” He said the words almost as if he were asking.
I didn’t think I had a choice really. Not the way he’d been talking when the others found us at the cabin.
“Do I have a choice?” I asked him.
He scowled. “No.”
Grinning, I opened the door. “Good thing I think you’re hot,” I replied, jumping down from the truck.
I heard his door slam and waited on him to make his way around.
His dark gaze was locked on me. The scowl was gone, but there was something else there. Once, I would have been frightened of it. Now, it just excited me.
“This isn’t a joke, little doll,” he warned me, closing in on me until I had to back up against the truck.
I looked up at him. “What is it, Thatcher?” I asked.
He’d not defined it. We were stepping into real life now. No more locked away in our own world. No more stalking me. I was here. He had me.
He ran the tip of his finger down my cheek. “Mine.” The demented gleam was back. The one that sent others running. Where you weren’t sure if he was fully in control.
“Okay,” I agreed because he was right. I was his. He’d made sure of it. “But … am I the only one? We’ve been having sex without a condom. Do I need to worry about … about others?”
He stilled for a moment, then placed both of his palms on the truck beside my head as he leaned down to look me in the eyes. “Do you think I would let anyone hurt you? Have you not seen by now that I would kill to keep you safe?”
I swallowed, not sure I understood why he had to bring up killing. “Yes,” I whispered. “But the day I quit, it was because you were having sex with someone else. You’d just been in my bed hours before.”
There was a flicker of pain in his gaze that did more for my heart than he realized.
“Yeah, little doll. But that was before I fucked you. I’ve fucked you now. There will be no one else.”
Okay. This was exclusive. I wanted to throw my arms around him and pepper his face with kisses, but the savage darkness swirling in his narrowed eyes kept me from even moving. What had brought him to this mood? He was dealing with something in that head of his, and I didn’t know what.
“No one touches you,” he said, leaning in close before his tongue darted out and ran across the edge of my jaw. “Ever.” He moved to the other side and mimicked his action. “Just me. Always just me.” The raspy tone of his voice made me shiver as he licked at the corner of my mouth. “You understand, little doll?”
I nodded, struggling to breathe.
“Good,” he replied, straightening back up. “Let me give you a tour.”
I stared up at him, my breath uneven and my pulse racing. “Okay,” I managed to croak out.
There was so much I didn’t know about him. I was afraid to think about that. Especially when he threatened to kill. I wanted to think that was just a figure of speech. That he meant hurt badly. It was getting harder to think that way. He’d had a gun at the cabin within arm’s reach. Did he have one on him, like the others had that day? And why did they walk around, armed?
I glanced back at the cars in his garage. They were all expensive. I didn’t know much about cars or how much a new one costs. Especially ones that looked like this, but there was a lot of money in this garage alone. Not counting the house he lived in. Was there something to the rumors in this town? If so, wouldn’t he have told me? Wouldn’t I have seen some proof?
Or had I and just not taken it for what it was?