4. Candice
4
CANDICE
A knock sounds through the house, startling me awake from where I was sleeping on the couch. I shrug off the hand-knit blanket I’d wrapped around myself and push my hair out of my face. It’s probably just Jenny or Tomás with a question. Whoever it is pounds on the door again, and fear lances through me. What if one of the horses is having a problem? What if it’s Brown Sugar?
I fling open the door.
“Oh,” I say. “It’s you.”
Standing in front of me, cowboy hat in hand and an arrogant look on his face, is Nathan.
“Don’t sound so disappointed, Candice,” he says. “Most women would love to wake up from a nap and find me waiting for them on their doorstep.”
“Well I’m not most women and besides, I wasn’t taking a nap.”
“The fuzzy socks and t-shirt say otherwise.” He stares pointedly at my shirt, which has a picture of a sleeping foal on it, with little zs drawn above its head. I look down and notice that my nipples are starting to poke through the thin, white material. Fuck me.
Crossing my arms for protection, I ask, “Why are you here?”
“Beau told me you could take me to the bunkhouse,” he says, mouth hitching up into a lazy half smile. “I’d really appreciate it if you could show me around.”
Nathan’s smile reminds me of why I hate him so much. In addition to being a complete and total ass, he only has two modes of engaging with women: flirting, or ignoring them. When I first met him, I was treated to the latter. But now that he wants something from me, he can’t help but flirt.
I say as much to him. “You just can’t help it, can you? Can you really not turn it off?”
“What are you talking about, Viper?”
“I’d explain but I doubt you’d understand.” The news that there are women on planet Earth who don’t want to sleep with him would probably melt his brain. “Why can’t Beau show you himself? I’m done with work for the night.”
“He said you deal with the volunteers. Said he didn’t want to step on your toes.”
Damn my brother. “Fine,” I say. “Just give me a minute to put my coat on.” Nathan starts to take a step through the doorway and I say, “Nope. No coming inside. Wait here.”
I slam the door in his face and hastily get myself together. I throw on an old Star Mountain sweatshirt and a puffer vest, wrestle my hair into a braid and shove my feet into my boots. I look in the mirror and the thought of putting on a bit of makeup, and of Nathan staring at me with that panty-melting gaze of his, flashes through my mind.
“What the fuck,” I whisper out loud. Two minutes in his presence and my brain is already addled. No wonder women fall at his feet.
I leave the house, without makeup on because fuck that, and find Nathan outside, staring at the endless night sky.
“Let’s go,” I say by way of greeting.
I start walking in the direction of the bunkhouse. Nathan follows along beside me, and I force myself to keep one step ahead of him, even though he has a good couple of inches on me and his strides are longer. By the time we reach the bunkhouse, I’m slightly out of breath.
“So,” I say. “This is the bunkhouse. We don’t have many volunteers at the moment, so it’s only going to be you and Tomás in there, though he’s out tonight. So you’ll have plenty of space.” I unlock the door, and flick on the light switch. “This is it.”
I watch as Nathan takes it in, from the old wooden bunk beds to the scratchy blankets and flat pillows, and the small chest of drawers against the back wall.
“It’s…” He falters for a moment. “Rustic.”
“Sure, rustic. Whatever. Bathrooms are in there,” I say, pointing at one of the doors. “And the kitchenette is in here.” I pull aside a curtain and show him the fridge and microwave we have. “Women’s beds are through there, but it’s locked on this side,” I say, pointing towards the door at the end of the long aisle of beds. “And that’s about it. Any questions?”
“Just one,” Nathan says. “Is there water in the bathroom or is it basically an outhouse?”
My cheeks flame at that, and I force myself to take a deep breath. I’m not happy with the condition of the bunkhouse either, but it’s low on my list of priorities for the rescue. “It’s got water, Nathan. And if you’re lucky, it’ll even get hot sometimes. Enjoy your stay.”
Nathan looks like he desperately wants to ask me if I’m being serious about the hot water (I am), but he decides against it and just nods tersely.
“We start at 6:30, sharp,” I tell him with a saccharine smile. “Will that be a problem?”
“No, Candice, that will not be a problem,” he grinds out.
“Are you sure? Early mornings might cut into your time spent drinking and whoring.”
Nathan gives me a look that could wither flowers. “Is that what you think I do?”
“Am I wrong? The Western Horsewoman interview made it seem like you were happy to remain single and unattached forever, and that your favorite place aside from the barn was a bar.”
Nathan’s stare turns from deathly to fiery as he takes a step towards me. “Been reading my interviews, Candy Cane?”
“ Don’t call me that,” I hiss.
“Fine. Hissing Viper it is. But the point still stands. You’ve been reading my interviews, and I’d like to know why. I’d also like to know why you seem so concerned with my sex life.” Nathan smiles as he says the last part, a slow, languid smile that reminds me of honey being drizzled into a glass.
I take a few steps back, my back now nearly flush with the wall behind me, but Nathan just follows, like a mountain lion stalking its prey.
“Well?” he prompts. His blue eyes blaze in the dim light and the strong angles of his face are thrown into sharp relief. If I’m a viper, he’s something much, much more dangerous.
“One, I don’t control what trash the editors of Western Horsewoman deem worthy of publishing, but I can say that the magazine has gone downhill since I subscribed years ago.” I pause, and Nathan just stares at me, challenging me to continue and answer the second part of his question. I take a deep breath. “And two, I’m worried about the women of this town. They don’t need your type sniffing around them.”
“What’s my type, exactly?” Nathan says, smiling a bit wider, like he’s loving this conversation. “Because I’m sure the women of this town will like me just fine. They always do.”
“You know, the type who leaves in the middle of the night without saying goodbye and never texts again. The type who’s around for a good time, never a long time. The type,” I swallow and choke out the next words, “who barely sees the women in front of him as anything but potential pieces of ass. And if they don’t meet his standards, then he barely sees them at all.” The memory of the first time I met Nathan burns through me in a blaze.
Nathan takes yet another step towards me, backing me fully up against the wall, as if he’s trying to intimidate me with his physical presence. But it doesn’t work. I tip my chin up and meet his gaze head on.
“So that’s what you think of me?” he asks, his tone acidic.
“Yes.”
“Well, jealousy looks bad on you, Candice,” he says. For some reason, he reaches out and tugs gently, just once, on the end of my braid. The action makes me shiver.
“Jealousy, Nathan? Is that what you think it is?” I manage to huff out a laugh as I say this, despite being completely unnerved. “As soon as I’d spent five minutes in your presence, I realized that nothing on heaven or earth could move me to tolerate you, let alone convince me to want you. I’m not interested in being just another piece of ass.”
Nathan’s gaze shutters, just a bit, and a small thread of guilt worms its way into me. But I shake it off because I’m just telling him the truth.
“That’s not the type of jealousy I was talking about, Candice. But thanks for making it clear that you’ve thought about having sex with me.”
“What the f?—”
“I’m not done talking,” he chides softly, that languid smile now gone completely. “I don’t mean that you’re jealous of the women I sleep with, or as you so kindly call them, pieces of ass. I mean that you’re jealous of me.”
“And why the fuck would I be jealous of you?”
“Because you’re just a lonely girl in a barn with hay in her hair.”
Suddenly, the tug he gave to my braid a few moments ago makes sense. He was pulling out a stray piece of hay that must have gotten caught in it. Shame blooms in me, and I’m thankful for the dim lighting that hides my flaming cheeks.
I let out a brittle laugh. “There he is. You try to hide him under smiles and charm but you’re just as bad as I am.” And then I walk out of the bunkhouse, slamming the door behind me.
As I walk back to my house, across the field and past Jenny’s trailer and the empty paddocks, a small tear rolls down my cold cheeks. I hastily wipe it away and then do the same for the second. Eventually, there are too many to contain and I just let myself cry.
Nathan was right. Completely, and totally right. I am just a lonely girl in a barn with hay in my hair. I have no one to call family but Beau and a bunch of horses.