37. Candice
37
CANDICE
I’m as quiet as a mouse in the kitchen as I make myself lunch. I didn’t want to interrupt Nathan’s interview by coming in here, but I’m starving after the photoshoot and need to eat. Hopefully, they won’t notice me. As I’m making my sandwich, I hear bits and pieces of the interview. Shane is asking him about his time at Star Mountain, and his work here.
“Brown Sugar is an ex-barrel racer,” he explains. “She’s too nervous to compete now so we’re retraining her for leisure riding…”
Nathan explains everything we’ve been doing together perfectly, and it makes my chest swell with pride. Brown Sugar has come a long way in the weeks she’s been here, and he has as well. He’s a good rider, and a good trainer. I was a fool for ever doubting him.
“And what about competing?” I hear Shane ask. “Any plans for the future?”
“Definitely,” Nathan says. “I can’t wait to get back on the reining circuit. It’s been too long.”
For the second time today, I’m reminded of the fact that Nathan is going to be leaving Star Mountain soon. Whatever is between us will be ending, and I need to prepare myself for it. I’m just happy we haven’t become more involved with each other than necessary. I’ve protected my heart, and I’m proud of myself for that. I can’t take much more loss, not right now—not right after Storm.
Shane asks Nathan a slew of other questions, but I tune them out as I finish eating. After another few minutes, Nathan saunters into the kitchen, looking happy as a clam.
“Oh,” he says, seeing me and smiling. “I didn’t know you were in here.”
“I live here,” I say flatly.
“Obviously, but I…” He stands there awkwardly, clearly unsure of how to handle my rejection, especially a mere hour after we nearly kissed in front of the camera while posing.
“I needed to eat,” I say. “I’m sorry for interrupting.”
“Is that Candice?” Shane says. “Come here. I’ll squeeze your interview in now if you don’t mind.”
“Sure,” I say, getting up from the table. I give Nathan an apologetic smile and walk into the living room. Shane motions for me to sit on the couch with her, but I take a seat in Gramps’s old leather chair. I won’t be directed around in my own home.
“I just have a few questions for you,” Shane says, not looking up from her notes. “First, what can you tell me about the mission of the rescue?”
I take a deep breath, and let it out slowly. I prepared for this one. Nathan and I spent an hour last night going over how best to represent the barn, and what to say to garner the most attention from readers.
“Star Mountain Horse Rescue was started by my grandparents in the seventies as a place to rehabilitate horses that have been abused, neglected, or abandoned. When my parents died…” Saying the words cuts me like a knife, but I plunge on ahead. “When my parents died when I was five and my brother was ten, our grandparents raised us and ran this place all by themselves. They passed away from old age two years ago, and I’ve been running it with Beau ever since. Beau provides the horses with medical care and I train them. Together, we’re continuing the mission set out by our grandparents.”
“Great,” Shane says, though it doesn’t seem like she’s paying a huge amount of attention. At least she’s recording the interview.
She asks me to tell her about specific cases that we’ve had over the years, and I tell her about rescuing Maggie, and training her with Gramps. I consider mentioning Storm, but that wound still feels too raw, and I know that people love a success story far more than they like a tragedy. I also add that we’re always looking for donations so that we can help more horses.
When I’m done, Shane says, “Perfect. I just have one more question.” She looks up from her notes and I see that the expression on her face is slightly devious. I brace myself for whatever is coming next.
“What is your relationship with Nate Booth?” she asks.
Fuck. Shane is clearly observant—which, duh, she’s a journalist—and she must have picked up on the dynamic between me and Nathan. I’m not sure what to tell her. I can’t be honest and I can’t refuse to answer, either. And I have no idea if Nathan is still in the kitchen listening to this.
“Candice?” she prompts.
“Nathan is a family friend,” I say after a beat. “And a great rider who I really respect.”
“But nothing more?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Working with him hasn’t brought you two closer in any way?” she prods.
I shake my head.
“So, there’s nothing going on between the two of you?”
“No,” I say, wincing internally. “There’s nothing going on with me and Nathan. That’s a ridiculous idea.”
“Well,” Shane says, capping her pen. “I’m sure that the single women of America will be glad to hear it.”
“Are we done here?” I snap, unable to control my reaction to her comment. Because it stings—thinking about all the other women who lust after Nathan stings.
“We are,” she says.
In a few moments, she’s packed up and gone, and I’m left alone in the living room with nothing but my thoughts. And if Nathan heard that conversation, well, he’s nowhere to be found now.