Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
MACK
T he woman on the horse beside me isn’t the same one who arrived here months ago. The girl who was broken, reserved, and always sad has grown into a confident, sassy, and smart woman. A woman who, right now, has Trigger wrapped around her little finger. I mean, who can blame a man for falling for Grace Weston?
“Trig sure likes your company these days,” I drawl, chewing on the dried stem of grass I found before mounting one of Huddo’s new yearlings he hasn’t had time to work.
Saw right through that one fast. My family may be a lot of things, but subtle ain’t one of them.
“Why are we riding out here instead of the usual field behind the house?” Grace asks. Her suspicion is alive and well.
Good girl.
“No reason, just sick of the same damn circuit. Besides, Trig was asking for a change of pace.”
“Will you need him back for real cowboy stuff soon?” Hope fills her eyes, as if daring me to say no.
“I will, actually.”
Her face falls. Sweet Jesus, don’t do that, Gracie. A thought flies into my head—I’ll have to fix her horseless situation. While I’m at it, I’m willing to bet Ma would help me put together a birthday party for her. Something small. Nobody should have to miss a milestone like turning twenty-one. But having a day straight outta the pits of hell for your twenty-first birthday, that’s fuckin’ unacceptable.
I’ll be fixin’ that.
“What are you thinking about, Mackinlay?” Grace is squinting at me like she’s trying to read my mind. Hell, I’m not sure she can’t sometimes.
“Ready for a lope, cowgirl?”
“When you are.” She beams at me. What I wouldn’t do to keep that gorgeous smile on her face. Before I have a chance to push the young’un into a lope, Trigger shoots forward. Grace’s laughter as she glances back over her shoulder carries on the wind. The sound is like the air I breathe. Life-sustaining.
I send the young horse after them. We catch up and I press the gelding sideways, moving in beside Trigger. I pluck the hat from Grace’s head.
“Hey!” She squeals as I rein my horse to the right.
“Winner takes it all!” I send the mount into a gallop. I call back at her. Now the cat-and-mouse begins. Like a horseback capture the flag. With the “all” for us being each other.
Hooves thunder, closing in on my line as I head toward the mountains. The summer grass sways like waves on the ocean as we fly through it. The blue mountains fade to ridges and trees as we get closer. I push the gelding harder, and we clamber up the side of the incline. I duck the few low-hanging branches and wind him through the rough-bark trunks.
The sound of running water carries on the breeze. My mood changes instantly. I slow the horse to a walk and turn him around. Grace and Trigger lope toward us. Their pace has slowed, her gaze fixated on the mountains in front of her. Wonder evident all over her gorgeous face. The playfulness drains from me, replaced with an overwhelming need for her.
Heart in my throat, I dismount and tie the gelding to a branch and walk toward Grace as she trots up the slope. Trigger stops just shy of me.
“What’s that look for?” Grace breathes.
Coming to her side, I look up at the woman in the saddle. She holds out a hand. “Hat?”
I glance down. It’s still in my grip.
“Course,” I choke, handing the hat to her.
She leans down, bending in the saddle until her face is in front of me. Her breath hits my face a second before her lips are on mine. I step closer, taking her face in my hands, like it fuckin’ belongs there. Always will.
She opens and I taste her. Trigger leans, lifting one foot from the ground, lazy old man. I sway with her as she moves with the horse. She nips my bottom lip and sits back up.
“Grace, I?—”
Trigger jerks to the right, ears pointing forward. I snap my gaze ahead. My gelding, no longer tied to the tree branch, gallops past us, heading for home. “Ah, dammit. Stupid fool. Better not hurt himself, or Huddo’ll skin me alive.”
“Looks like you ride with me, cowboy.” Grace’s face is lit up with cheek.
“Looks like it, gorgeous.”
She slips her foot from the stirrup, and I shove mine in, springing up onto Trigger, behind the saddle. Grace leans into me. Despite the warm weather and the runaway horse, this is as good as it gets.
“Any excuse to wrap your arms around me, Mackie-boy?”
I stiffen at the ridiculous nickname Laws insists on using. With the next breath, I dig my fingers into her ribs.
“I’m sorry!” She squeals with delight, twisting in the seat, trying to flee my tickles. “Please, stop.”
I splay my hands around her sides, letting my fingers brush under her breasts. “Repeat after me, Grace Weston.”
She nods, wrangling her breaths back to something less hectic.
“I will never ever use a nickname for Mackinlay again,” I command.
She repeats the phrase, mimicking every syllable in my Montana drawl. I nip her earlobe, and she turns and grabs my face with both hands. “As long as we both shall live.”
With a wink, she twists back and picks up the reins. We lope in the direction of home. I wrap myself around her, sending a prayer to the heavens. Hoping somewhere up there Butters is doin’ okay. Finally letting go of the guilt I have hauled along with me since that day.
Vanilla and peaches shroud me as Grace sends Trigger faster.
She is my peace.
The one element of my life that grounds me.
Sometimes because I can’t see a day in the future without her. Sometimes because she needs me to be strong. Sometimes both.
I will never be able to repay her for bringing me back to life.
She’s my home.
And I will use every last breath I have to be hers.
The reins swing, loose in her grip as we walk for home. Trigger, lathered in sweat, was sanctioned a breather by his ever-adoring crush. Those two really are made for each other. Poor old fella’s gonna be heartbroken when she gets her own mount and he is stuck with me again.
“You never wanted to do anything else, live anywhere else?” she asks, eyes following the horizon as the sun sets behind us, setting the whispering grass to a shimmering gold. We walk through the sea of glimmering grass. When I take too long to answer, her eyes search me out.
“Not really. Army was my plan B.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
I mull it over for a while. It was never the long game. But I always wanted to be the one to decide when to call it quits. I tell her as much.
“I get it. Being able to have the choice is important.”
“Yeah.”
I pluck a long, thin golden strand and put it between my teeth. She chuckles and rubs Trigger’s neck. Home comes into view a moment later, and we fall silent for a while.
Reaching down and grabbing a handful of stalks, she lets them loose to the wind, watching them fly in every direction. “Freedom is, too.”
The words are quiet. I know they run deep for Grace.
“What makes you happy, Gracie?”
She rests a hand on Trigger’s neck as he plods along, as if he’s her comfy blanket. A half-a-ton bay, fury, sweaty comfort animal. “Colors.”
“Yeah?” I perk up.
“Painting. Sketching, although that’s not colors, but the line, shape, angles, marks. It all makes me happy.”
“How long since you painted for real? Not the small stuff in the yoga room.”
“The yoga room.” She chuckles, but it fades out and she sighs. “A while.”
“You should paint.”
“It doesn’t pay the bills, Mack.”
“Maybe not yet.”
“How would that even work? I’m guessing the day you don’t need me is coming soon. You’re functioning fine, from what I can see. Besides, it feels wrong to take your money when you could be doing all these things yourself.”
“Technically, it’s Harry’s money. But I agree, you need to find something better.”
She stops.
Trigger grinds to a halt beside her, swaying into her. Protective old man.
“So that day is today?” Her voice is strained. “You want me to go?”
“Want?” I pluck my hat from my head and run my hand through my hair. Shoving it back on, I step into her space. “No, I don’t want you to go, Grace. I want you to be happy. Free. Doing something you find meaningful. Not this.”
“Oh.” She studies my face. “Like what?”
“Something in the arts? We could see if there is anything in town you could apply for.”
“Like a course or something.”
“Or a job. I mean, you already have eighteen months of an arts degree under your belt, not too many folks around here can claim that. And art or yoga, god forbid, would fill your cup better than keeping house ever will. I want more for you.” I rest my palm on her cheek, and her fine fingers wrap around my wrist. Tears line her eyes and her breathing shallows out.
Dammit.
“You don’t want that?” I ask.
Her mouth twists somewhere between a smile and a broken cry. “Of course I do. I—” Her voice breaks. Trigger nickers, and I swear the old shit glares at me for makin’ his girl cry.
I dip my head to capture her gaze. “You can do this. I’m right there with you. All the way.”
She huffs a tangled whimper and pushes her face into my chest. I rub a hand around her back, wanting so badly to erase every last piece of hurt that fuckin’ asshole caused her. If the day ever comes when he stands in front of me, a reckoning will be in store.
She finally leans out of my hold, and her blue eyes glitter with tears. Ones I pray are the happy kind. I want her to have that.
Happiness.
She gave me mine back.
After so long.
“You sure you want me to stick around, Mackinlay?”
“Woman, you are my oxygen. Without you, there is no breathin’ for this man.”
She rolls her eyes at me, and the unshed tears spill over, running down her cheeks. “Corny, but I’ll take it.”
I can’t help the smile cracking my face. I kiss every last tear from her face until she is giggling in my arms again. That sound will never get old to me.
“Come on, Trig’s gonna miss his old-man bedtime if we’re not careful.”
“Can’t have my favorite boy worn out,” she coos to the gelding, planting a kiss to his dark brown jawline.
We wander home, making it to the barn as the first star pops in the dark sky overhead. I’ve never felt so revived, so exhausted from walking miles on my aching hip, and so alive all at once.
With Trigger tucked up in his stall and thoroughly loved up on, I lead Grace back to the house. With a quick shower, we crawl into bed, and sleep takes her under before I have a chance to tell her what today meant to me.
What she means to me.
I guess I will have to show her at Ma’s in a few days’ time.
I have plans for her twenty-first birthday do-over. To see her smile, I would do just about anything. So, I roped in the cavalry.