Chapter 11 #4
"I don't know, that day, staring at the horse, changed me, and then I realized I could return the favor.
I could help them too. My work here this summer is twofold.
I'm earning my hours, but Asha hopes to show her father, through my work, that mindfully exploring other avenues outside of retirement for racehorses past their prime isn't just good for the horse but also business.
" I stop my fidgeting and meet his watchful gaze.
"When I talk to people like you, I feel silly.
I feel like a dreamer or something. In your world, horses are a sport, a stream of revenue, not therapy. "
"My world?" His dark, bold eyebrows rise. "You can't judge my world based on Asha's. The Fairfields have their way, but that doesn't mean it's the standard." He turns to White Flame. "So you're a horse whisperer, then? Maybe you could stop by the ranch and look at my friend's horse sometime."
"I don't know," I say, stepping up to White Flame's stall.
"Or I could bring him by Fairfield. Asha might not be too thrilled, but?—"
"It's not that. I'm sure you have more qualified trainers on staff.
Technically, I'm not a trainer. I assess horses and evaluate their temperaments…
" In fairness, I work with them a little, but still not a trainer.
"And you're right, working with the competition pr obably isn't in my best interest, given the hospitality the Fairfields are affording me. "
Yes, Asha asked me to get close, but I'm not sure she meant work-with-his-horses close.
My comment earns me a half smile, and I notice a small dimple as he drops his head and says, "Good to hear Asha recognizes me as the competition, but I think you'd be surprised how different we are.
Your career endeavors seem better suited for a ranch like mine.
Spending a few hours there might be good for you. "
"How so?"
"Well, for starters, I don't have trainers on staff."
"You're bluffing."
He holds his hands up in defense. "I'm not. You're looking at one of the only two trainers on staff. My father taught me all I need to know, and now my brother and I work with the horses."
"Really?" The word escapes me an octave too high.
The training revelation is a surprise, but his casual mention of a brother is the real reason for the pitch in my response. Asha never mentioned that he had a brother.
"WOW, way to knock a man's ego down a few notches," he says, adjusting his cowboy hat.
"I didn't mean it like that," I stammer. "I don't know you well enough. I just assumed?—"
"You assumed that because we are breeders, we function the same. Yet another reason you should visit. If you change your mind, let me know."
"Oh, come on, please say yes," Katie startles me, squeezing between us. "I want to see some more horses. We can leave now," she suggests with a big smile.
"I'd love to give you a tour, Katie," Trigg eggs her on.
"Ranch tours?" an impossible voice collides with reality. "The wedding is this weekend."
Time slows as my mind struggles to process.
I'm too stunned to move, too scared to turn around and match a face I never thought I'd see again to the only one my heart ever wanted.
This could all be a coincidence: the voice, the last name, the revelation of a brother.
I haven't been sleeping well, and my mind is still adjusting to staying in a new place.
My eyes are pinned on Trigg when he notices my frozen state.
There's a slight crease in his forehead before he throws his arm around my shoulder, sensing my sudden discomfort.
"Well, the invitation said I could bring a plus-one. What do you say, Laney? Do you want to be my plus-one this weekend?"
My heart is beating so fast it feels like it's one second away from stopping, the thumping too hard, the pace too exhausting.
At the new angle Trigg has pulled me into, I have no choice but to look in the direction of the voice I'd know anywhere.
My eyes slowly trail up the dark jeans, his legs thicker, his waist still narrow, but his chest is different.
Even through his black button-down Wrangler, I can tell it's more developed, more solid, but it's when I allow my eyes to reach his well-defined, dark, bearded chin that true recognition crashes into me.
My fingers have trailed that jawline, my mouth has covered those lips, and those eyes…
those damn eyes…I've dreamed a million lifetimes in them.
My heart lurches painfully in my chest, and my knees weaken as the world around me goes silent, my senses compressed singularly in shock and disbelief at the sight before me. It's him.
"Dallas, what's wrong with you? You look like you've seen a damn ghost," Trigg mocks beside me.
Wait, what did he just call him? Dallas?
That's not his name. That's not even his middle name.
He stands rigid, his stillness mirroring my own as the electricity crackles between us with an intensity that threatens to steal my breath.
This isn't the reunion I imagined a million times in my head.
It's not even close. While I knew he didn't want to talk to me, I thought that desire was rooted in longing—an insurmountable pain—the same pain that lives inside of me over love lost. However, as color returns to his face, his expression transforms. What was once raw shock turns into something more menacing—hate .
"She can't be your plus-one," he finally speaks, his words firm.
"And why the hell not?" Trigg's arm loosens, and he steps back, his eyes darting between us. "Wait, have the two of you met before?"
London doesn't answer Trigg's question, but his silence answers mine. Trigg doesn't know who I am. I don't know how London is here and not behind bars, but I get the impression Trigg doesn't either. With that, I steel my spine and hold out my hand.
"No, we've never met. I'm Laney."
There's a tic in his jaw, as though he doesn't like my response, but before I get a chance to dissect what it might mean, Katie chooses that moment to pop out from my side. "And I'm Katie."
His eyes dart between us, lingering on mine before gravitating toward hers, then snapping back to mine with a flash of something unreadable before settling on her again. "Hi, Katie. I'm Dallas." He shakes her hand.
"I like your hat," she says.
"Yeah?" He drops down to one knee. "Let me guess, you like the braid with the turquoise bead in the middle.
" She nods, suddenly shy. He removes his hat and sets it on his knee before pulling the braid off.
"I hope you'll accept this as my apology.
" He offers her the braid, and she happily takes it.
"Trigg offered something he can't give." Then, standing, he gives me one last glance before pinning Trigg with a menacing glare.
"She can't come to the wedding," he says before storming away.
"Dallas," Trigg calls out to him, but it's for not. He won't turn back.
Every footfall as his boots thud against the stone floor is an echo of the night I watched Sheriff Townsend drive him away.
He didn't turn back then either, but that's not what's making this time harder than the first. No.
This time, he's choosing to walk away. Last time, there was hope—hope that I could plead a case and bring him home. Now there's a wedding.