CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE #2
“I loved horses growing up. Riding was when I felt the most at peace. When my dad died, I continued to take the horses out until we lost our land. Ivy made her life out of it—I think to feel closer to my dad—and I made mine with music.” She pats Aspen as her blue eyes turn to mine.
“But I always missed this. What about you? Was this how you envisioned your life?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “I was always around horses when I was a kid too. My cousin had a ranch out near Colfax. I was there every chance I got, and spent most of the summers there until my mom left, and even a little time after with my aunt.”
I tell her about my cousins as we cool our horses down, and I make a mash of alfalfa and electrolytes for them.
“But once I started playing ball, I never went back,” I finish as we take it to our horses in their stalls.
“Being on their ranch, it felt like I was making a difference to the horses’ lives.
That’s when I knew I wanted to work with animals.
But to do that, I had to go to college, and football was the only way I could get there.
I had a free ride. I started undergrad hoping to major in Equine Management but I only made it part of the first year.
I blew my knee out in the quarterfinals. ”
“They made you leave?” she asks as she takes her hat off and sets it on the bench behind us. The same place she sat the day I met her. I remember the woman she was then – as I study the one here now – and I can’t help but wonder again what else is hiding behind those icy eyes.
“They let me finish the semester,” I tell her. “I couldn’t afford it after that, and I couldn’t get a loan for it either. My dad’s credit was shit and I had none.”
I clear my throat, willing myself to stop telling her my life’s story, but somehow she’s easy to talk to. Even if I don’t want her to be.
I watch her groom Aspen from the aisle of the barn.
She looks incredible in those faded light blue jeans that should be fucking illegal, hugging every single curve.
For the first time since I laid eyes on her in September, I want a woman again.
Her. And I hate it because I shouldn’t; not after the memory she left me with.
I almost feel the warm air between us when we kissed, when my hands ran over her—
“So then what? You just came here?” Her words cut into my daydream. I clear my throat and close up Odin’s stall, giving him a final pat as I do. I make my way back over to her. She doesn’t need to hear about the broken path of bar fights, women and whiskey that led me here.
“Awful interested in the backstory of someone you don’t even like, ain’t ya?” I ask her, leaning on a post between stalls. Cassie doesn’t miss a beat.
“Not really. But in case you haven’t noticed, you’re kind of my only option today.” She looks around the empty barn. Just me, her and the horses.
Right.
“There y’all are,” Ivy says as she enters the barn and wraps Cassie in a hug. “I saw you come in. So, Haden, you got the secret for getting her out of those pajamas?” Ivy asks me as I take a gulp from my water bottle. I nearly choke. Fuck me, my head just went somewhere else completely.
“He practically dragged me here,” Cassie says, side-eyeing me.
“You look glad he did,” Ivy retorts. “Will you come for dinner tonight, Cass?”
Cassie’s eyes flit to mine.
“Sure,” she answers. “Guess I should be social. Mama’s been texting me all afternoon asking me if I want to come to bingo.”
Ivy laughs. “Don’t do it. I’ve gone once and it’s anarchy. Those ladies take their bingo seriously.”
I chuckle as I listen to the two of them. Seeing Ivy here makes me glad Cassie has her, and that Glenda’s story ended differently than my dad’s. They’re the support system she needs to figure out what her next move is. Not me, I remind myself, remembering Wade’s words from yesterday.
“Great. Come to my house in an hour,” Ivy says before turning to me. “Haden. What about you? Do you want to come for dinner?”
I almost say yes and then I remember Penny and the new horse that she’ll need help with. Not to mention that long drive of hers that will need salting.
“I’m busy,” I tell them both with a smile. “Thanks for the invite though.”
Ivy says her goodbyes and leaves the barn as I check the time and realise I need to get my afternoon chores done before I finish for the day and head to the farm to see Penny.
“Thanks for the ride,” Cassie says, stopping me. “And Haden?”
I turn back to her and nod.
“Seven o’clock tomorrow?”
I think for a moment before moving in steady strides toward her. Cassie’s breath catches in her throat as I look down at her, and the sound shoots the same electricity through my veins that I felt last fall. I hold my hand out.
“I’m gonna put my number in your phone. Make sure you have it.”
Her icy blue eyes stay trained on mine.
“Forward. Most men ask for my number,” she comments.
“I’m not asking you for your number. That’s not what this is about.
” The light in her eyes I saw seconds ago dims as I continue.
“I’m being practical. This week’s fairly light on work.
But an hour lost around here is two hours at the end of the day, and I have other commitments in the evenings.
If I don’t have to drag you down here, as you called it, we can ride every morning.
But if you aren’t gonna make it, be sure to let me know. ”
She pulls her phone out of her pocket, dutifully unlocking it and handing it to me.
“I’ll be here,” she replies quickly as I type my number in. “Thanks for dragging me here, Haden.”
I should say you’re welcome, or that it was my pleasure to ride with her. But, instead, I just nod curtly and leave the barn, willing the rest of my carefully built-up armor not to fall.
“You seem distracted.”
I glance over at Penny as she stands outside the main barn of the rescue ranch.
She’s all bundled up in a fleece winter coat and a white hat with a pompom on top.
It covers her dark hair that has turned a lot grayer over the last few years.
She’s helping me sprinkle safe salt on the driveway with a worried-mama look on her face.
The air is definitely getting colder and I can see her teeth chattering from here.
Even her glasses are starting to fog with the chill.
“You’re out here shivering like this just to be nosey, Pen?”
“No, I’m here to help you get the horses settled. The tortured look you’re wearing is what’s keeping me out here though. What’s on your mind?”
“Just thinking about my place, and my plans for the future,” I tell her semi-honestly.
“You’ve always got a place here,” she says, looking around the outside of the barn. “And hopefully one day this will all be yours too.”
“You’ll never retire.” I smirk. She never stops, and says it’s what keeps her young.
“I’m thinking about it.” She tosses the cup back in the bucket of salt and grabs a rake to pull it through the thin icy layer forming over the driveway.
“This place is my safe haven. But it also brings me joy to see you—the next generation—thriving here. You have a gift with these horses, Haden. It doesn’t matter whether you finished schooling or not. ”
We drift into the barn and I grab the haynets I made up earlier, including one with a red tag sprinkled with Valerian root for Zeke. It helps with his anxiety.
I approach him slowly and rub his head between his eyes. “That’s it, bud. You know I’m here to feed ya, don’t you?” He nuzzles closer to me.
“See. You’re a natural,” Penny says as she watches. Her arm bothers her now, so hanging these heavy bags is something she can’t do anymore. But she still likes to follow me around to make sure I’m doing it right.
“Maybe. Or maybe he just likes that I have his food.”
Penny backs up.
“You’ve got the last one?” She nods to the end stall. “I have to get off my feet tonight.”
“Are they still tensing up on you?”
“Only when I wear these boots and when it’s this damn cold.” She winks and turns, heading for the barn door. “Oh, and Haden. This distraction … if she’s got you looking that deep in thought, she’s probably worth thinking about.”
I scoff and shake my head. “Night, Pen.”
She laughs lightly, knowing she’s got me pegged.
“See ya tomorrow, honey.”
I turn back to Zeke as he starts to eat.
“What does she know?” I whisper, although I wonder if Penny’s right. I have been thinking about Cassie since our ride this afternoon, and I can’t stop thinking about the way her eyes looked when she thanked me. Christ. She’s only been back four days and I’m already giving in like a house of cards.
The next morning, I get to work at six, expecting it to be quiet.
It’s still dark this time of year and the air is ice-cold in the early hours.
More snow is expected this week and Wade is saying a storm is brewing.
It’s been a long damn time since we’ve had a real snowstorm around these parts, so there will be extra to do to prepare both here and Penny Lane for the weather, especially because Wade and Ivy are headed to Florida for two days to watch Angel’s Wings race, which means we’ll be light on the ground.
I sip my coffee as I cover the last few meters to the main barn.
I walked the short trek from my cabin this morning to give myself time to think.
To get my head straight. I need to be able to balance the pull I’ve felt for Cassie since the day I met her.
I need to think logically about her. I haven’t been with a woman since her, so maybe my feelings are heightened.
But staying away from her isn’t an option right now either.
I’ve barely slept and I’m jumping right back into the fire with her, taking her riding again this morning.
I could get someone else to do it, but I’m willing to admit that I don’t want to.
I don’t even have a chance to let that truth resonate before I’m jumping out of my skin.
“’Bout time you showed up.” Cassie’s voice fills my ears and I look down to my flannel jacket that now has a good bit of my coffee on it.
“Fuck me to tears, woman. What are you doing here so early?” I look from my jacket to her.
Well, shit, there goes every logical thought in my head.
Cassie Spencer looks like a goddamn breath of fresh air, and better than I’ve seen her look since she got back here.
Her hair is shiny and falls over her shoulders in waves under that same tattered cowboy hat she wore yesterday.
She’s in a warm fleece coat, mittens, and another pair of those killer jeans with her cowboy boots.
There’s not a stitch of makeup on her face.
She pops a hand on her hip and the smug smile she’s wearing because she beat me here takes my breath away.
“Just about ready to come down to drag you out of bed, actually. You ready to ride, Cowboy?”
“So what, you just had to wear it anyway, cut down the back?” I ask Cassie as we ride along the near-frozen water on the east side of Silver Pines.
There isn’t a sound except our laughter as we ride.
The snow acts like padding over the pines and we’ve been counting cardinals as we go.
Cassie says her dad used to say they were good luck.
She’s been telling me about the weird shit that happens in the music industry, and this album cover in particular where they sent her a leather strapless shirt three sizes too small, so her manager ended up cutting the back and fastening it with a shoelace.
“Yep, took a five-hundred-dollar designer piece we were supposed to send back to them and turned it into trash. But we got the shot.” She laughs. “Designers think all musicians are a size two.”
I watch as she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear under her hat, her right hand holding the reins as she watches the creek. “This girl likes her ice cream so I’ll never be a size two,” she says.
“Good,” I blurt out. Her eyes meet mine. She smiles softly, taking her bottom lip between her teeth, and I look ahead. “Women should feel comfortable being however they’re meant to be is all. Fuck them for making you feel like you should be something different.”
“Tell that to the thousands of people who feel they have a right to comment on my looks just because I’m in this industry.
It’s terrible. It’s like they take your biggest insecurity and put it online for others to say, ‘Huh, I never noticed that about her before, but now that you mention it, she does close her eyes while she sings, she does tap her foot like she’s nervous.
Her ass does look extra-curvy in those pants, maybe she should work out more. ’”
“Your ass looks just fine.” Fuck me, what is wrong with me?
“Thanks?” She laughs. “Maybe you can make a social media account then, let them all know that. It would counteract the Cassie Spencer’s ass page.”
I look over at her in shock. “There’s no chance that exists.”
She nods. “I wish I could say it didn’t.”
She proceeds to tell me how it showcases her outfits, and some are flattering, some aren’t, but the only thing I can think as we continue the rest of our ride is who the fuck do I contact to get a social media page taken down?