CHAPTER 12
DAISY
One of my favourite things about being a horse groomer has always been the independence of the job. I can zone out and do my thing peacefully without really having to interact with anyone.
Working alone, with only the sounds of quiet whinnies and the whoosh of a horse brush against the horse’s back is where I find inner peace. My own version of ASMR.
I’m quickly coming to learn that The Calloway Ranch is not the place for peace. At least not for me, anyway.
I’ve long accepted the fact that Noah is never going to be my biggest fan. He can join the line amongst the other residents of Rosewater Creek that hate me for hurting one of their own. But, if he brings me one more mud-covered horse, I will not be responsible for my actions.
And I’m not talking your standard working horse kind of dirty.
I’m talking I-let-this-horse-roll-in-it’s-own-shit twice, kind of dirty.
Three times this week he has conveniently shown up right before lunch with one, barely sparing me a glance as he leads them into their stalls before muttering his bullshit orders at me and stalking off.
The way he’s behaving, you’d think it was him I’d walked out on and not his friend. I’ve had about enough of it.
Sure enough, ten minutes before twelve I look up to find him walking toward me, the same filly I groomed for him just yesterday trailing behind him – once again covered in God knows what.
My blood boils.
I calmly close the latch on the stall I was working in and reach down for my bucket of grooming supplies before marching over to the smug bastard, the simmering anger evident on my face.
Noah’s smirk falters ever so slightly as I drop the bucket at his feet with a loud crash and glare at him. “Do it your fucking self, you immature bastard.”
His head jolts back like I’ve physically slapped him. “Excuse me?”
My tone doesn’t waver. “You heard me.”
His hazel eyes narrow into slits as he glares down at me. “It’s bad form to speak to your boss that way.”
I laugh, but the sound is humourless. “You are not my boss. Your brother is. I don’t know what your fucking problem is, Noah, but I want no part of this childish game you’re playing. I’m just here to do my job.”
“My problem is you. You thought you could just break my best friend’s heart and then come back years later and we’d all just carry on as if nothing happened?”
I step closer, my anger only growing. “What happened between me and Killian, is our business. Not yours. I made it clear in my interview that I wouldn’t let our history interfere with my job. And I haven’t. The only person causing problems here, is you.”
“Have you noticed that you haven’t seen him around here lately?” Noah questions.
Yes. I did notice that.
When I don’t respond, Noah continues, “that’s because he hasn’t been back here since you started working here. Won’t even answer my calls. I wonder why that is?”
“What Killian does isn’t my business, Noah. Just like our relationship isn’t yours. I’m here to do my job and go home, that’s it.”
I turn to walk away from him, wanting this conversation to be over but his next words have me halting in my tracks.
“Why haven’t you told him about Montana?”
And there it is. The thing that’s really been bothering him.
I whirl on him. “Why haven’t you-” my words die on my tongue when I find Killian standing behind Noah, his eyes darting between us.
“Told me what?”