Chapter 9
ROWE
Diesel moves beneath me at his favourite pace—fast as fuck.
I rock in time with him, the reins loose in my hand. He doesn’t pay any of the other horses around us attention, too happy to be on a morning run to give a shit about them. We’ve been at this for an hour already, and he shows no sign of slowing. He’s a workhorse through and through, this one.
The sun was far from rising when I left my cabin this morning and got in the truck.
I slept restlessly, unable to relax long enough to make it into a real, deep sleep.
Every noise had my muscles clamping and eyes moving beneath their lids.
I’d opened the nightstand drawer a few too many times for my liking, searching for the knife I keep inside.
Exhaustion sticks to my brain as I ride through the ranch. I’m waiting for the slapping breeze to wake me up a bit. Maybe that’s why I give Diesel a light kick to the side, encouraging him to go quicker. The dull throb in my thighs helps.
We pass the round pen, and I give the black horse a quick once-over.
He’s still on his preferred side of the fence, but as we pass, he shifts to get away from us.
Diesel doesn’t look his way until I make him slow.
He snorts in annoyance, not done with his run, but I tighten my hold on his reins and guide him closer to the pen.
The horse’s ear twitches in our direction, his eyes fixed on me.
It’s like Diesel’s not even here, and it’s just us standing off at the fence line again.
He’s still coiled tight, burning red-hot with anger, but there’s no fear there now.
It’s annoyance more than anything. A warning to back away from his space with the massive horse beneath me before he makes us.
I linger for a few moments longer, pushing him. Maybe more than I should.
A storm of hooves on the dirt sends him into a fit. He makes a quick circle before taking off across the pen. I twist on Diesel, narrowing my eyes on the cowboy racing my way. Tanner’s grin is devious as all hell as he brings his tan horse to settle beside us.
His bright blue eyes hold a sense of youth that died inside of me too early. Maybe that’s what keeps him grinning all the damn time, regardless of the seriousness of a situation. It looks like he hasn’t been in a shitty situation a day in his life.
Beneath his hat, he waggles his eyebrows. “Otis told me to give you a heads-up that there’s a pretty woman at the house right now. Sure looks like she’s gonna be here for a while too.”
Diesel shifts beneath me like he feels the immediate tension prodding at my insides. I run his reins through my fingers, gripping them a bit tighter.
“Is that right?” I ask through gritted teeth.
“Yup. Heard Sawyer over the radio blabbing about going to check her out when he gets back from the arena.”
I guide Diesel away from Tanner and try to stifle the need to tell him to make sure that doesn’t happen. With my throat tighter than if I’d let this kid slip a noose around it, I snip, “Get back to work.”
“You got it,” he calls with a full-on belly laugh.
I dig my heels into Diesel, and he takes off toward the house.
It’s not too far from here, and right now, I wish it were.
My life has become a never-ending mess of “I should have’s” instead of “I did’s” over the last few weeks, which is why I’m riding toward Tilly and not away from her.
She’s the last person I need to see today, but that doesn’t seem to be enough to make me turn around.
Diesel slows on his own when we approach the house. I can feel his excitement damn near vibrating from him the closer we get, and that has unease rippling through me. A soft rumble of a nicker slips from his chest. It’s not a warning or a call for food . . . but recognition.
I don’t know what I expect to see when we get to the front of the house. A honey-blonde spitfire with a shotgun slung over her shoulder, maybe. Something different than what’s actually there.
The woman is the same, but instead of a shotgun, she’s got a bag drooping from her elbow and a black suitcase, wheels deep in the dirt. Her light brown hat droops low enough to hide her eyes from me as I stare, my palms sweating in my gloves.
Those tiny shorts are long gone, replaced with a pair of straight-leg jeans hiding the calves of her boots.
The buckle at her middle is a big oval with turquoise stones throughout it.
Her boots have the same-coloured details on the toes, like she’s matched them on purpose.
I eye the quote scrawled across her tits and grit my jaw, adjusting my position in the saddle.
Cowboy Pillows.
“What are you doing here?” she asks roughly.
I lean forward, digging the horn of my saddle into my forearm. “On my property?”
“No, smartass. Here. Creeping on me.”
“You’re standing in front of my parents’ house, looking like a lost foal.”
She throws her braid behind her shoulder, digging her heel into the ground. “Yeah, well. Your dad was supposed to be here to take me to my trailer half an hour ago.”
“Your trailer?”
“Yes. The one I don’t want but have to take, anyway.”
I roll my jaw. “Why the hell do you get a trailer here?”
“Ask your mother.”
“Tilly,” I snap impatiently.
“Say hello to the new Painted Sky groomer, Rowe.”
My laugh is instant. The cold front of it could freeze a bucket of water as I pull Diesel back, prepared to turn around.
“I’m not joking. You can thank my brother for this. I sure did,” she bites out, sarcasm thick in the final sentence.
I freeze, and Diesel follows suit. Glancing over my shoulder, I take a long look at her, searching for the lie. It’s not there. All I find is the same smugness that I saw the other night in the parking lot. My agitation skyrockets.
She cocks her head, reading me to filth. “What? Did nobody tell you about me? I wonder why.”
“You’re not working here.”
“Too late. You have as little say in it as I do.”
“Why the hell can’t you live off property?”
She yanks her suitcase in front of her, giving the back of it a light kick. “I argued it. The last place I want to be is here, so close to you. I don’t trust you won’t try to sneak in and suffocate me with a pillow.”
More like spray the trailer with gasoline and flick a match at it.
Tapping my thigh, I straighten my posture and glare harder. “My father isn’t coming to welcome you. I don’t know who told you that, but they lied. He’s at a horse show in Calgary today.”
“Of course he is,” she says, quiet enough for the words to be meant only for her. “I guess you get to take over, then.”
Before I can tell her to kick rocks, she’s dragging her suitcase toward me. Each step she takes threatens to make the ground shake. Maybe split entirely. I tighten my hold on my reins and clench my thighs in preparation.
“I’m not helping you with shit,” I warn her.
“Yeah, you are. As much as you supposedly hate me, I know your manners won’t stand to watch me haul this thing all the way across the ranch on my own.”
“You don’t know a damn thing about me anymore.”
She doesn’t argue. Instead, she brings her suitcase to rest beneath my stirrup and abandons it there. Her attention is on Diesel now. A beat later, she’s smoothing a hand up his neck and moving to stand in his eyesight.
My horse shifts toward her, nosing her chest like he used to do when she’d come over and he knew she’d brought him a treat. I inhale through my nose and glance at the sky, praying to a God I don’t believe in for patience.
“If you want a horse, you’re not taking mine,” I grunt, forcing Diesel to step away from her. There’s no time to feel guilty about that. I nudge the top of her suitcase with my boot, threatening to send it tipping over. “And you can bring your suitcase to the stable. I’m not carrying it for you.”
Scowling, she drops her hand and wraps it around the handle of the suitcase. “I suppose I should be grateful that I get any help from you.”
“That’s the smartest thing you’ve said since getting back.”
Diesel doesn’t want to move, but when I urge him forward, he reluctantly does.
I don’t let him relax until we’re in front of the stable.
The sassy flick of his tail that comes once I’ve swung off him doesn’t help matters at all.
My fingers are vibrating with frustration as I take his lead and knot it around the post.
I can hear the roll of Tilly’s suitcase behind me as I enter the stable and search for a horse she can use today.
It’d be easier to take her to her trailer in one of the trucks, but the idea of being trapped inside a vehicle with her for ten minutes isn’t appealing in the slightest. Plus, something tells me this will be more entertaining.
The spotted mare three stalls from the door will be fine. I saddle broke her a few years ago, but she doesn’t get ridden much. It’s a fifty-fifty shot of whether she’ll be an easy ride or one to test how much patience Tilly’s grown to have in the time she’s been away.
I grab her saddle and haul it over before leaning back against the wall and waiting. My biceps fill with tension as I keep holding it, refusing to put it on the horse.
“You could have offered me a ride over here,” Tilly smarts, announcing her presence before boots on the concrete do.
I ignore the dig and drop the saddle into her arms. She catches it with a grunt, taking a laboured step forward. Using her stumble to my advantage, I reach through the empty space behind her to unhook the gate and pull it open.
“I assume you remember how to saddle a horse?”
She tongues her cheek before saying, sugar sweet, “I’ve been working for the last decade, so yes.”
“Great. Get to it, then. I’ll be outside.”
The huff that escapes her is music to my ears when I move past her. I don’t stop to check if she’s in the stall or if she’s retreated. The only thing I do is unhook Diesel and get back into the saddle. He snorts lightly, trying to turn to look for himself where she is.
“Knock it off, traitor,” I mutter under my breath.
His ears twitch in response, and I lead him to the road, far enough away from the stable that he doesn’t have another opportunity to betray me.
He may not be a person, yet that never mattered.
This horse is one of the only living things that I didn’t lose when I went to prison.
It didn’t matter how long I was gone or what I’d done to get myself locked up.
He was here waiting for me the day I was let out on parole, still my best friend.
Tilly’s brother was here too, but I’ve struggled to be the same person I was before I went away. He’s felt that, and things have been jilted. It rubs me wrong that he got his sister a job here, especially without giving me a heads-up.
I’ve accepted my new reality, though. As much as I hate it, this is my life, and that’s it. Having Tilly here is a change I’m not prepared for. But . . . maybe I can get some use out of it. Even if only to have a little fun with her.
Revenge could taste smooth if I gave it a chance.