Chapter 1 #2
“Morning. How are things?”
“All quiet. The McBride family had a good morning. Debbie had the kids up and ready for the bus stop.”
“Did they have breakfast?” Two days last week, the McBride kids had gone without breakfast because they’d been running late to make the bus. Maggie had sent them off to school with granola bars and juice boxes.
“They did.”
“Well, that’s progress.” In addition to providing emergency shelter, counseling and career services, their program aimed to help struggling parents learn skills and routines designed to prepare them to eventually live independently with their children.
Some of the mothers needed this help more than others.
One of the things Maggie had come to appreciate was how the more experienced mothers stepped up to offer wisdom and counsel to the younger ones, which gave them a community of support that would hopefully outlast their time at Matthews House.
“In other news, Corey is having pains. Could be Braxton Hicks. I’ve got her first on the list for Arnelle when she comes in.”
Maggie was alarmed to hear that twenty-year-old Corey Gellar might be in early labor with her first child.
She’d come to them via a referral from Davidson County police after they intervened in a domestic situation at her home.
Her live-in boyfriend had been arrested for assaulting his pregnant girlfriend and was still in jail. “How far apart are the pains?”
“Twelve minutes.”
“Damn it. She’s only thirty weeks. Should we call for rescue?” These were the moments Maggie found most challenging in her new job. When did a situation become a crisis, and how did she know whether she was doing the right thing?
“Corey didn’t think that was necessary.”
“Okay,” Maggie said, exhaling. “We’ll see what Arnelle has to say.”
Maggie’s day spun out of control from there.
When Arnelle determined that Corey could be in early labor, they called the rescue.
Maggie ended up at the hospital with Corey until they decided to admit her to see if they could stop her labor.
Maggie stayed until a friend of Corey’s came to be with her.
“I’ll check on you after a bit,” she said to the petite young woman with blonde hair and fragile features marred by bruises that infuriated Maggie. How any man could hit a pregnant woman, she would never know.
Over the last few months, she’d had to take a mental step back from questions like that, or she’d go mad from the things she saw and heard on a daily basis. She would never understand how people could do such things to the people they loved, but it happened far too often.
Arnelle liked to say the crises kept them in business, which was sadly true. She also said dark humor was necessary to keeping one’s sanity when working with families in turmoil.
As Maggie drove back to the house, down scenic, winding country roads, she had the window down and the stereo volume cranked up.
Around here, country music was all the rage, but it wasn’t her jam.
She preferred her alternative playlist to country, not that she’d admit that to her sister Kate, one of country music’s biggest stars.
For Kate, Maggie made a rare exception to her no-country-music rule. She loved Kate’s work, as well as that of Kate’s husband-and-wife mentors, Buddy Longstreet and Taylor Jones. Buddy, Taylor and their four children were family to Kate and Reid, who’d grown up with Buddy.
Maggie took the last turn before the security checkpoint where the handsome young guard waved her through, flashing a big smile.
Xander was always friendly and flirtatious with her.
However, she didn’t encourage him because she was in no place to be thinking about men or dating or anything like that.
The thought of it made her shudder in revulsion after what she’d been through with the last guy she’d dated.
She navigated the long lane that led to the Matthews estate, driving past the two-story Tudor-style guesthouse where Kate had spent her first night in Nashville, and pulled into her usual parking space behind the stables.
Only as she walked around the stables and came face-to-face with a handsome man wearing well-worn denim and a formfitting Western-cut plaid shirt did she remember the meeting with Brayden Thomas that she’d failed to reschedule after Corey’s early-labor crisis.
The photos she’d seen of Brayden hadn’t done him justice. Tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair and brown eyes, he looked like a movie-star version of a horse wrangler. He removed a battered tan cowboy hat from his head in a gesture of respect she found ridiculously charming.
“Are you Maggie?”
“Yes, that’s me.”
He stepped forward, hand extended. “Brayden Thomas. Nice to finally meet you.”
She shook his work-roughened hand and met his intense gaze. Manners and eye contact, two things that mattered for people who worked in equine therapy. “You as well. So sorry to be late for our appointment. I had an emergency with one of the women.”
“No worries. Arnelle told me what was going on. Gave me some time to look around. What a beautiful place you’ve got here.”
“It belongs to my brother-in-law and sister, actually.”
“Your sister is Kate Harrington, right?”
“That’s right.”
His eyes glittered with excitement. “I’m a big fan. I’ve seen her in concert five or six times. She’s fantastic.”
Maggie was never sure how she was supposed to reply when people praised Kate, so she said what she always did. “Thank you. We’re proud of her.”
“You don’t look like her.”
“Nope. I favor my dad, and she’s our mom’s twin. We do have the same eyes, though.” Why was she telling him this stuff when she ought to be asking him how he’d landed in juvie?
“I had a chance to check out the stables, and they’re some of the nicest I’ve ever seen. I’m really looking forward to hearing more about what you have in mind for the equine therapy program.”
This would be a really great time to tell him you can’t hire someone with a criminal record, Maggie.
“As you know, most programs focus on children and adults with special needs. Here, it won’t be about that so much as providing therapy and riding lessons to kids who’ve been through traumas and/or suffer from PTSD. ”
He nodded, listening intently to everything she said.
Maggie realized he’d begun moving toward the stables, and as if she’d been hypnotized or some such thing, she walked with him without having made the conscious choice to move.
“The kids have been abused, then?”
“Some of them were. Others have seen things that no child should ever see—parents overdosing, fathers beating mothers, mothers beating fathers, among other things that can’t be unseen.” Such as your mother getting hit by a car right in front of you…
“I see. My philosophy is all about building confidence. I tell the kids I work with if you can mount a thousand-pound animal and get him or her to do what you tell them to, you can do anything.” He reached out to scratch the nose of a quarter horse mare named Dandy, who leaned into his caress.
“It seems like that approach might be a good fit for the kids in your program.”
It would be perfect. That was exactly what Maggie had dreamed of when she approached Reid and Kate about using a couple of the horses that were boarded at the Matthews estate for a therapeutic riding program.
Once she hired someone to oversee the program, each horse would have to be evaluated for temperament and suitability.
Maggie had secured signed releases from the owners of the other horses, allowing them to be used for that purpose if it was determined their temperaments worked for the program.
Most of the owners were friends of Reid’s or Ashton’s, so getting permission hadn’t been difficult.
In fact, the owners had been thrilled to know that their horses would help to make a difference for kids in need and get regular exercise, too.
“As I mentioned on the phone, it’s important that I work closely with a counselor or therapist to tailor my program to the needs of each child.”
“That’s where I come in,” Maggie said. “My undergraduate degree is in social work, and my master’s is in family counseling.” She’d busted her ass to finish both programs in just over five years at NYU.
His gorgeous face lit up with a warm smile. “That’s an ideal fit for what I do.”
For some reason, hearing him say the words ideal fit made Maggie feel like laughing. Yes, he was an ideal fit for her program, and the fact that he was to-die-for handsome didn’t hurt anything, either.
“Are these the horses I’d be working with?”
Now would be the perfect time to tell him he couldn’t work there. “They are. All but Thunder.” She pointed to him. “He’s getting on in years, and Kate thought it might be better not to have him be part of the program.”
Brayden worked his way down the row of stalls, giving each of the horses a minute of his time and attention. Each of them responded favorably to him, even Lonnie, who didn’t like anyone—or so it seemed. “Is Thunder in good health?”
“He’s in excellent health and is gentle as a lamb.”
“He’d be ideal for the program, but I understand if your sister doesn’t want us to use him. In my experience, I’ve found that older horses are sometimes better for therapeutic riding. They’ve sown their wild oats, so to speak.”
“I’m sure Kate would be open to discussing it.”
He ran a hand over Thunder’s elegant neck, and the horse nickered in response. “Did you get the info I sent about my PATH certification and insurance?”
She licked lips that’d gone dry as she watched him interact with the animals and noted how each responded to him with trust. “I did, thank you for sending them.”
In addition to his obvious affinity for the horses, Maggie would have to be dead and buried not to also notice that he was, without a doubt, the best-looking man she’d ever met in person.
He’d rendered her speechless and stupid in the head just by the way he interacted with the horses she loved like people.
He had a gentle, soothing way about him that would be ideal for the population of children he’d be working with. In fact, it was nearly impossible for her to reconcile the information Ashton had given her with the man currently standing before her.
Maybe he’d investigated the wrong Brayden Thomas.
That was possible, wasn’t it?
She took a deep breath for courage and released it. “We ran a background check, which is customary with everyone we hire.”
“Okay.”
“We discovered you have a juvenile record.”
“I do.”
“Can you tell me what that’s about?”
“Nope.”