Chapter 14
ROWE
Leaning back against the stable wall, I stare out at the sun that’s well past the horizon.
I’ve been up and waiting here for half an hour, tapping my toe against the dirt and rolling my jaw enough times that it’s already sore.
I count the sixty seconds in every minute as I force myself to stay put.
Being late on the first day at a new job wouldn’t happen with most people.
Tilly’s not most people, though, and I’d bet my winnings from the rodeo last weekend that she’s doing it out of spite.
I swallow my chuckle. She’s not the only one who can be spiteful, and she’ll remember that by the time I’m done with her.
There’s a whinny from inside the stable that carries over the roll of the wheelbarrow Brock’s pushing up and down the aisle. He’s scooping shit again this morning, and I’m almost pissed off enough that I consider telling him to ditch his task entirely just so I could have Tilly finish it.
A truck engine growls behind me before cutting off, drawing my attention. The woman watching me through the windshield is sitting beside Tanner, and I can’t leash myself tight enough not to speak the moment he gets out.
“The fuck are you doing?”
He slows his steps, registering my tone. “Bringing her to work. There was no horse up there this morning.”
The passenger door opens, and Tilly hops out.
She sets her hat on her head and swings her hip against the door, slamming it shut.
The fake innocence on her face grates on me like nothing else.
My lack of sleep doesn’t make it any easier not to just storm toward her and press her face into the window while swatting at her ass. Maybe she’d fucking drop the act then.
“Tanner was sweet enough to come get me when I called the house this morning. Unfortunately, waiting for a ride had me a few minutes late,” she says, approaching me.
I jam my hands into my pockets when I get a full unrestricted view of what she’s wearing.
Gone is the shirt with the fucking Cowboy Pillows written on it.
I’m one more sassy sway of her hips from demanding she go put that one back on just so I don’t have to see the new words written across her tits today.
Save A Horse Ride A Cowboy.
One inhale. One exhale.
I lower my gaze only to get smacked upside the head with the sight of her in another pair of tiny shorts.
They’re so high on her thighs that I can see the two-inch horseshoe tattoo she got on her eighteenth birthday.
The entire point of getting it so high up on her leg was so she could hide it from her dad.
There’s a pulse in my chest when I drag my eyes from the dirty boots on her feet up the long, bare expanse of her legs before they get snagged on the patch of bare skin above her belt buckle.
It’s tight, the subtle lines of her abdominal muscles peeking through before disappearing beneath the lifted hem of her tight shirt.
The fabric pulls across her torso, leaving nothing to the imagination as I notice the outline of a belly button ring.
She shifts beneath the weight of my gaze, chest nudging forward like she’s baiting me. I clock the way her shirt snags on two tight peaks beneath the words stamped across her tits. It doesn’t take a genius to realize what she’s hiding. I curl my fingers tighter in my pockets.
Tanner chooses this moment to talk. The sound of his voice scratches my eardrums.
“I figured I could spare the few minutes it took. I’m on my way to see Sawyer up at the arena now.”
I run my tongue across the teeth. “Yeah, you go do that. You’re not paid to be a chauffeur. Make sure Sawyer knows that he’s not either because he gets tricked into the job.”
“Thank you for the ride, Tanner,” Tilly says, wiggling her fingers at him when he reaches for the truck door.
The pleased smile he flashes her has me kicking off the stable, stalking away from them. Inside, I fill my lungs with the scent of horses and remind myself that she’s doing this on purpose. If I give her a reaction, she’ll get worse, spurred on.
If she wants to fuck her way through my ranch, she can. God help the men who she lets crawl into her bed at night. They’ll lose themselves and wind up chasing her tail for so much as a pitiful grin.
“You’re lucky my father didn’t bother coming out here to talk to you himself,” I bite out when boots hit the aisle behind me.
“Oh, because you’re so much better. I’m one lucky girl.”
The grooming stall is open, unused and clean behind her. I don’t know or care who found the time to get it ready after the old groomer left. All that matters is that I make it clear which horses she’s supposed to touch and which she isn’t.
“You don’t go near Diesel,” I say, my tone final. “I do his grooming myself.”
“Really? He loves me.”
Twisting to face her, I cross my arms. “Yeah, really. The last thing he needs is to get used to your presence again.”
“He’s a horse, Rowe. Not a young one either. He’s met plenty of people who haven’t stayed around forever.”
I trample down my immediate response, hiding it with another. “You weren’t a random face to him. He shouldn’t have been alone.”
“Alone?” Her eyes fill with realization a second later. “Don’t put that on me. I wasn’t the one who went to prison.”
“And what’s the reason behind me going, Tilly?”
She doesn’t look away. If anything, my question ticks her off enough that she stares harder, those deep green eyes unyielding.
There’s an intense feeling of rage flaring between us, pacing as we stand off.
I can hear Diesel chuffing in his stall, his head no doubt pressing against the metal bars like I’ll turn to look at him if he makes enough noise.
“Stop throwing that in my face. You’re starting to really piss me off,” I warn, my voice like gravel.
Her spine snaps straight. “You don’t get to take the moral high ground here. Nobody forced you to do what you did. I sure as shit didn’t ask you to.”
“I know. I’ve had a decade to get that through my thick skull. You’ve never had a problem with moving on, hellcat. Don’t start caring about the past now.”
The flare of her nostrils shouldn’t excite me.
Yet, here I am, almost buzzing from the anticipation of her sharp tongue.
She lowers her gaze to my chest, to where I know the top two buttons of my shirt are undone.
I don’t have a fucking clue what exactly she’s looking for there, and I don’t care.
The colourful designs I wear on my skin can entertain her for as long as she wants to stare.
They weren’t there before I went to prison, and she won’t be seeing anything more than what I’ve already got on display.
She can have fun with her imagination.
“Do you have a list of the horses’ names for me?”
I almost don’t hear her.
“What?”
“Is there a list of the horses’ names?” she repeats herself, blinking at me as if I’m just an idiot who didn’t understand the question when she first asked it. “So I know which I’m working with and when.”
“It’s at the house,” I lie.
She dips her chin, turning without another word. I shoot one foot forward like I’m going to follow before stopping myself and bringing it back.
“The mare in the last pen hasn’t had a good brushing in days. Start there,” I demand roughly.
That makes her pause. “Is that an order?”
“My father put you on me. I didn’t have a choice. Neither of us do.”
Her bitter laugh crackles through the stable. Her honey-blonde braid swings behind her back when she twists and arches a brow at me. “Well, did you tell him how terrible having to be around me would be for you?”
“Do you think he gave a shit?”
“No.”
“Exactly. Grab the list of names from the house, and then get to work. It’s going to take you days to get caught up. We’ve got the farrier coming in this weekend.”
“Other than the mare, is there an order I should be following?”
“No. Take your pick once you get the list from the house.”
She glances out the door to where the black horse is still standing in the round pen.
He’s no longer pacing, but the progress has stopped there.
I’ve met and worked with a handful of stubborn studs, but this one is testing me.
He wants nothing to do with anyone here.
The closest I’ve been able to get is the dirt a few feet away from him.
“What about that one? He’s a mess.”
My muscles turn to cement. “You don’t go near him. Is that clear?”
“He’s filthy. How long has he been here? Has anyone checked him?”
“He’s been looked over. Had to sedate him for Katie to get close enough to look him over. He’s healthy.”
“Medically, maybe,” she says, her voice lowering with obvious concern.
I can see every single idea she has as it passes through her gaze. Before she can say another word, I take hold of her arm, jerking just hard enough to pull her attention. Her brows knit together when she glares at where I’m gripping her.
She shakes her arm in a feeble attempt to break free. I tighten my hold, moving closer so she has no choice but to crane her head back to keep eye contact. The roll of her jaw is only stoking my anger.
“I fucking mean it, Tilly. You leave that bastard alone.”
“You’re not my keeper, and it’s not okay for him to be in that state. He’s filthy, and I haven’t even gotten close enough to see how bad he is. You can’t genuinely think he’s comfortable like that?”
“You know better than to think I’m trying to neglect him.
The moment you go in there, he’s going to come at you, and grooming will be the last thing you or any of us will be concerned about.
Do you think a brushing is worth a broken rib?
A smashed face?” The words are harsh, brutally cruel.
I don’t soften in the slightest as I add, “He’s terrified of people.
If you go at him before he trusts you, all you’ll do is prove what he’s already thinking about us. ”
Her exhale is harsh as she tears her arm from my hold and takes a step back. “He’s suffering out there.”
“No, he’s not. That pen is the safest place he’s ever fucking been.”
“Is he yours?”
The question surprises me. I pause, grappling with my frustration. Without it, I don’t trust myself around her. Not when she’s asking me shit like this.
“No. He’s here to get better, and then he’s gone.”
“Who hurt him?”
“Everyone.”
Tilly’s peach-coloured lips curl downward. I watch her too closely. It’s careless how desperate I am to learn every little thing she’s thinking. A disease is what it is. One my body’s only recognizing again now that she’s back.
One of the first times I felt like this, I was watching her in the stuffy courtroom where I received my official sentence.
She stared right at me the entire time the judge spoke, never once shying away.
Everything was a disaster back then. I always thought she only showed that day because of her loyalty to me and her brother.
But once those letters started, things twisted for me in a way they never were supposed to.
Now, I only wish I hadn’t put pen to paper.
“He should stay, then.”
“We have no use for him here.”
“So what, you’re the only angry bastard allowed to call this place home?”
My smirk is supposed to warn her off. It draws her closer instead.
“I’m a Carrigan.”
“He could be too.”
“There’s no prize in life for collecting broken things.”
“If there was, I’d have already won it.”
There’s a pressure on my chest. Not inside, like I initially think. It’s from the curved fingernail digging into the space between the third and fourth buttons of my shirt. I fixate on the slender curve of her finger and the lack of ring on the one two over.
Tilly’s perfume fills my nose and poisons my brain.
There’s something constricting around my throat, making it impossible to tell her to back off.
Slowly, she takes that red-painted nail and tugs the third button open, her head tilting.
Swirls of colour coil around the black designs on my skin, and she stares at them, as if trying to dissect each one.
I circle my fingers around her wrist, taking note of how they easily overlap. She releases a rough noise when I tug her hand away from me and then drop it.
“Stay away from the pen. If you need anything, figure it out yourself,” I grit out, backing away further.
Her hand falls to her hip as she lets me go. “I’m taking a truck with me to the trailer after since you warned away my driver.”
“I don’t care.”
The last thing I see before I turn around is her middle finger. She pushes it toward me and then storms away, disappearing into the stable. I almost laugh.
Almost.