Chapter 17 Scarlett
SCARLETT
“I’ve never brought anyone here before,” I admitted, the words catching me by surprise, even as they left my mouth.
After grabbing breakfast, then a change of clothes from my place, we’d driven on his motorcycle all the way here.
Holy hell, was that sexy, with my arms wrapped around his waist, fingers spread against his tight abs beneath the soft cotton of his shirt.
He’d insisted I wear his only helmet, and as the wind wrapped around us like a promise of adventure, I couldn’t help but admire how his biceps flexed as he handled the bike.
Now, we were here, in the pasture, where I stood, stroking Buttercup’s velvet nose while she nickered softly against my palm.
She was perfection, wrapped in a bow. A giant tawny goddess of unconditional love.
“Never?” Jace’s voice held genuine curiosity, none of the mockery I’d expected.
“Never.” I breathed in the sweet scent of hay. “It’s kind of my safe space. When I come here, everything else just … falls away. It’s just me and my horse, feeling her love and giving it right back. Fresh air and freedom.”
“Why did you bring me today?”
That was a seriously good question. The kind that made my stomach do a little cartwheel. I ran my fingers through Buttercup’s coarse mane, buying time.
“I guess there’s something liberating about knowing I’ll never see you again. No pressure to turn this into something it isn’t, you know?”
The logic had sounded good in my head, but as soon as I spoke the words out loud, an unexpected pain hit my chest. Why did the thought of never seeing Jace again feel less like relief and more like … grief?
Must be the mind-blowing sex. And the no-strings-attached fun. That has to be what this is.
And that flicker of a grimace on his face—that had to be something I was imagining.
“So, this is your errand,” he said after clearing whatever he’d considered saying from his throat.
“Every Saturday. Sundays, too, if I can. I want to come more often. To give her treats and take her out on the trails but …” But I’d been working so many hours that Buttercup had often paid the price of getting less attention.
“She’s beautiful,” he said, reaching out slowly to let Buttercup sniff his hand.
“Wow, she normally doesn’t like men.”
“Is that so?”
“I rescued her,” I explained. “Her last owner was a man who abused her.” Lord, how many nights I’d cried, realizing what she’d been through.
The only thing that comforted me was knowing I would never ever let anyone hurt her again.
I’d sell all my possessions and live in a shoebox if that was what it took to maintain the expense of her.
“She’s everything to me.” My voice wavered slightly.
Jace’s eyes found mine, sharp and perceptive. A warm breeze ruffled his dark hair, carrying the scent of wildflowers and sun-warmed grass.
“Something’s bothering you,” he said softly.
Again, not a question. This guy with his statements.
I let out a deep breath, watching a pair of sparrows dart across the field.
“I could tell you, but you’d probably think it’s silly. Especially with what other people are going through, not to mention what’s going on in the world right now.”
“Scarlett.” The way he said my name made me look at him again. His emerald eyes caught the sunlight, making them even more mesmerizing against his dark stubble and sharp jawline. “Nothing you could say would sound silly to me.”
That ache in my chest grew. Something I tried to swallow down.
“Horses are social creatures,” I explained, watching Buttercup’s ears prick forward at the sound of my voice.
“The whole time we’ve been at this stable, Buttercup has had a best friend.
Her friend moved last month to a stable not too far from here.
It’s like the Rolls-Royce of horse stables.
Bigger pastures, more staff so the horses get more attention, more time outdoors rather than being trapped in their stalls, better riding trails, better views, better care. ”
“And you want to move Buttercup?” His voice was gentle, understanding.
This time, the pain swelling in my throat had nothing to do with thoughts of Jace and everything to do with guilt.
“I want to give her more than I can.” Just like my mom.
“That other stable is really expensive. More than I can afford.” Yet another reason I’d so badly wanted that promotion: it would have given me the means to pay for that other place.
“But every time I’m here, I feel like I’m letting her down.
I can feel her sadness, missing her friend, you know?
” My fingers traced the blaze down her face.
“Like, I can imagine how it would feel to have your best friend taken away and not understand why or where they went. And as if that’s not bad enough, now, without her bestie by her side, there’s another horse that’s kind of bullying her. ”
It struck me how parallel our existences were right now.
Every day, Buttercup would wake up and worry about that bully horse, worry whether she would get bitten or kicked or chased from her favorite patch of pasture.
And come Monday morning, I’d be worried about the same thing with Grabby Hands.
He infected my space just like the bully horse infected Buttercup’s.
The only difference was that in my life, I had the ability to do something about it.
I could go to HR, find some kind of recourse, but Buttercup …
she was just an innocent victim, vulnerable to my ability to protect her.
I didn’t realize my eyes were watering until a tear escaped, trailing down my cheek. Jace stepped forward, his thumb gentle as he wiped it away.
“She has you,” he cooed. “The amount of love you have for her is something she can feel. Hell, even I can feel it, and I’ve never had a horse.
Had a hamster but …” He grinned, breaking the tension.
“That thing escaped its cage. We eventually found him with an Oreo in his mouth, but my mom never let me have a pet again.”
Despite myself, I smiled.
“Someday, Buttercup,” I whispered, pressing my forehead against hers. “Someday, I’ll earn enough to move you to the better stable and reunite you with your best friend.”
It was hard to let go of the emotion of that conversation, but I didn’t come here to feel sad. I’d come here to give Buttercup attention and love, to give her the fresh air and exercise.
“So,” I said, “I thought we could go for a ride?”
Jace’s face fell. His attention snapped to Buttercup, then back at me, all traces of Brooding Sex Lord gone, replaced with horror.
“Both of us?”
“Of course.” I bit back a laugh. “It wouldn’t be much fun, leaving you here with the manure pile while I take her for her weekend trail ride.”
“I’m fine waiting.” He took a deliberate step backward. “I’ll just …” He glanced around desperately. “I’ll commune with nature. Count hay bales. Contemplate the meaning of life.”
I cocked my head, trying not to smirk. “You ride a motorcycle at eighty miles an hour, but you’re afraid to get on a horse?”
“I’m not afraid,” he claimed. “I just haven’t done it before.
Plus, I control the motorcycle. This”—he gestured at Buttercup, who chose that exact moment to snort loudly—“giant animal has a mind of its own. It could chuck us off, stomp on our face, and be back at the barn before we even bled out. Probably stopping for an apple on the way.”
Smirking, I was already moving, gathering the equipment we’d need.
“I’m not getting on a thousand-pound animal with a possible attitude problem.”
Buttercup huffed, as if she understood the insult.
“Buttercup is a perfect lady. She’s thirteen hundred pounds of pure sweetness.”
“That’s … not helping your case.”
“And for the record, you’ll be riding Turtle.” I motioned to the beauty in the stall next to us.
Jace eyed the horse up and down, as if to assess its trustworthiness.
I tossed him a set of riding gloves. “You’ll be fine. It’ll be nice to get some fresh air. Besides …” I arched a brow and deliberately let my gaze drift down his body. “I know a beautiful pasture where we could stop. Very private. No one around for miles.”
“Are you bribing me with sex?”
“Is it working?”
The hint of orgasms was the only thing that made Jace pause. He eyed the horse warily, then the gloves in his hands, and finally me.
“Fine. But if I die, I’m coming back to haunt you, Trouble.”
“Deal.” I grinned. “And I promise to say nice things at your funeral.”
After packing a blanket and snacks the barn manager let us have, we set out on a ride through the trails. With every rhythmic hoofbeat, every breath of wind through my hair, every whiff of lilacs and warmth of sun on my face, I found myself looking over at him.
Sometimes, I caught myself swooning. He looked like he belonged on the cover of a romance novel, with his fitted shirt pulling against the broad planes of his chest and those powerful shoulders on full display as he handled the reins.
The midday light caught his dark hair, highlighting traces of gold I hadn’t noticed before, and his strong thighs gripped his horse’s gait.
Sinfully attractive didn’t begin to cover it.
Women everywhere would swoon if they had the view I had right now.
But other times, I found myself smirking.
Jace wasn’t what I’d call a natural. He’d try to guide the horse forward, and she’d step to the right.
I heard him cursing on more than one occasion, and even his horse seemed annoyed by his presence.
I swear, horses sensed people who didn’t know what the hell they were doing.
To his credit though, he didn’t complain. Not once.
But most of the time, I found myself staring at him with something dangerous blooming in my heart: longing. I’d never brought anyone out here before, but now that I had, it struck me how much his presence heightened this experience rather than detracting from it.
“Can I ask you a question?” Jace’s voice broke through my thoughts as we got off our horses at the bluff over Lake Michigan.
The water was a deep blue, crashing against the rocky shore beneath us, stretching out until it touched the horizon like it was reaching for its dreams. “What is it about horses that you love?”
“Everything,” I said, the word carrying more weight than I intended.
“Name the biggest reason.” His voice held genuine curiosity, not the casual interest people feigned when they were just waiting for their turn to speak.
I stood beside Buttercup, my fingers finding that sweet spot beneath her mane that always made her lean into my touch. The familiar warmth of her pressed against my palm centered me.
“Horses don’t hurt you the way that people do.
And they see right through you, you know?
No games, no hidden agendas. When a horse trusts you, it’s because you’ve earned it, not because you manipulated them into it.
” I scratched her side, finding comfort in the familiar motion.
“Humans can use love as a weapon, but animals never do. They’re pure.
All they want is your heart, and they give theirs right back.
No scorekeeping. No power plays. Just …” I swallowed hard.
“Just love. Feed them, shelter them, show them kindness, and they’re yours forever.
They don’t wake up one day and decide to use that love against you. ”
Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever said that out loud before.
Jace was quiet for a long moment. When I finally gathered the courage to look at him, I found his eyes not on the breathtaking vista, but fixed entirely on me. There was something in his gaze—not pity, which I would have hated, but a clear, unwavering understanding that made my chest tighten.
He stepped closer, close enough that I could smell the subtle notes of his cologne mingling with leather and pine.
His voice, when it came, was low and intimate, meant only for me.
“She’s not just your horse,” he realized, reaching out to brush his fingertips against Buttercup’s neck, inches from my own hand.
“She’s your safe harbor. She’s the only one you allow to love you back, isn’t she? ”
Something fluttered in my stomach. With anyone else, I’d be guarded about revealing anything personal.
I’d be worried they could take this information and use it against me, use it to control me someday.
But knowing that I would never see Jace again, it crumbled all those pretenses and worries and just let me be … me.
“Someone hurt you,” Jace continued, his eyes never leaving mine. “And whatever they did went deeper than whatever sparked that revenge list.”
His perception sliced through my shields like they were nothing but morning mist. But instead of feeling exposed, I felt … seen. Truly seen, maybe for the first time.
But I wasn’t going to talk about that. Not ever. It was in the past, where it belonged.
“Come on.” I cleared my throat and grabbed the contents for the picnic I’d assembled from the barn, setting it up in the gorgeous meadow. You know, the one I’d mentioned when I’d hinted at romantic things …