Chapter 3
Tyler
Since Barrett got held up at his meeting, I took the opportunity while I was waiting for him to wander the visitor’s center.
Morgan and Barrett’s office was on the second floor of the old house, but the first floor was all about the history of the town.
It was more fascinating than I expected for a map dot near the Canadian border.
I wandered through the displays, reading all the cards thoroughly.
It was a fun way to pass the time. Apparently it started as a mill settlement in the late seventeen hundreds, and some form of town had been here ever since.
It was hard to imagine that people had lived here for more than two hundred and thirty years.
Another sign said that, as of the last census, the town’s population had reached eighteen hundred folks.
I snorted. I was from a small town too, but my hometown had three times as many people.
A delivery driver clomped through the door and headed straight for the desk, where a perky young man who’d introduced himself to me as Dylan perked up. The driver said jackshit, just shoved his device at Dylan for a signature. Dylan huffed, but signed, even as he shouted, “Morgs! Delivery!”
The driver took the device back without a word and left. I gave him the evil eye as he went, though he didn’t notice. Not even any pleasantries? What a jerk. I was sure he was busy and all, he had to be given the season, but that didn’t warrant rudeness.
Morgan ran down the stairs, stopping at Dylan’s desk. “Where is it?”
Dylan shrugged. “I dunno. Outside maybe?”
“Dylan, honey,” Morgan said with all the patience in the world. “You need to lay eyes on the package before you sign for it, right?”
Dylan blushed. “Sorry. Yes.”
Morgan patted him on the shoulder and headed toward the front door. A minute later, he let out a curse. I double-timed it to the door to see what upset him. The box was very large and leaning against the front steps.
“What’s up?” I asked.
He jumped, too focused on whatever the issue was to notice my approach, then grimaced. “If this is what I think it is, it was supposed to be delivered to Wayfair and not here. I must have forgotten to change the address.”
He squeezed past the overlarge box and looked it over.
Then he sighed heavily and thumped his head against the box once.
“Yep. It’s the arch and it should have been sent there.
But here it is, plain as day, this address.
Dammit. Now I have to figure out how to get it over there.
Maybe Harris can come pick it up. Or maybe I can borrow Arlo’s truck?
Probably. It certainly won’t fit in my car or Barrett’s SUV. ”
All of that was said very rapidly and mostly to himself. I cleared my throat. “I have a truck,” I mentioned.
Morgan’s head snapped up and he stared at me for a solid three seconds before his face lit up. “You have a truck!”
I had to laugh. “I do. And it’s right there.” I pointed to the small parking lot to the left. “Want me to drop it off?”
“You are a champion among gods and men. Thank you!”
It was heavier than I expected, but Morgan and I got it into the bed of the pickup. I snapped the tailgate closed and then turned to him. “Where’m I going?”
“I’ll ride with you and then we can tell Bear to meet us at the Emerald Lantern when we’re done. Then we can all eat and—”
“Morgan?” Dylan interrupted, poking his head out the door. “Marianne Wentz is on the phone.”
Morgan bit out a curse and pinched the bridge of his nose. He breathed deeply for a long moment before he turned to Dylan, a smile on his lips. “Please ask her to hold. I’ll be right there.” He gave me his attention again. “I’m sorry. I have to take this. I need to keep the peace.”
I chuckled at the face he made and waved him off. “It’s fine. Just tell me where to go.”
He pointed across the street and down a little way.
“See that road right there? Just follow it for about three miles. Past Holloway Glassworks and keep going. Wayfair Ranch is on the left. You can’t miss it.
Once you get onto the property, take the right fork until you come to another one then take the left.
You can leave it under the eaves of the party barn.
I’ll shoot Harris a message so he or his guys can get it inside. ”
“Will do.” I gave him a two fingered salute and hopped into the truck.
It was an easy enough drive. I saw Holloway Glassworks, which seemed to be in a converted mechanic’s garage and made a mental note to stop in there at some point.
Morgan’s statement piece was gorgeous and I’d found myself staring at it as I’d drifted off to sleep the past three nights.
Barrett had shown me pictures of the stars they’d used for last year’s scavenger hunt.
This year it was tiny Christmas trees, and they were just as beautiful.
Holloway had an insane amount of talent and I was sure if I went in there, I’d find something my mother just had to have.
Lost in that musing, I almost missed the turn for Wayfair Ranch. Fortunately, the sign was large enough that I made the turn in time. Following Morgan’s directions, I made the right turn. Then slammed on my brakes as a runaway horse came charging at me.
I didn’t think, just jumped out of the truck and lifted my arms. “Whoa! Whoa.”
A smarter man would have jumped out of the way or stayed in the truck to begin with. A thousand pounds of running horse could do a lot of damage. But I stood my ground, and the horse surprisingly came to a stop. It turned ready to bolt, but I was quicker and grabbed the trailing lead rope.
“Whoa, easy there. Easy now.” I murmured. The mare, because I couldn’t help a quick glance, tried to rear but I had a good hold and her front feet only came a few inches off the ground. Her sides were heaving, ears pinned back. “Easy, girl. You’re okay. Easy now.”
My soft tone worked and she settled a bit. Still ready to bolt, but when I started walking, she came along. I willed my heart rate to slow, kept my demeanor calm, and she responded by calming too.
“What’s got you in such a tizzy, hm? It’s okay. I gotchu. Let’s just walk back this way and see where you belong, okay?”
We’d only walked for a few minutes when a man ran toward us. The mare immediately went on alert, tugging and trying to get away. I held fast but if she really wanted to, she’d be gone again.
“Fucking bitch!” The man shouted.
“Hey. Knock it off,” I growled, managing to grab onto the mare’s halter. I was risking life and limb here, but I didn’t want the mare to get hurt if she took off again. Plus I really didn’t like this asshole’s attitude. “Easy now. Hey, whoa. Whoa. Easy.”
The horse was whale-eyed and snorting, but she stayed put. I would swear, no matter what anyone said, that horses understood instinctually who was good or bad. The mare clearly thought I was better than this fuckhead.
“How about I just lead her back?” I said, keeping my voice low.
“What the fuck ever. She should be dog food.” The fuckhead turned on his heel and stomped off. I followed after a second, making sure there were several yards between us. The longer we walked, the more the mare calmed down.
Five minutes later, the stable came into view. Fuckhead stomped his way right through the open doors and I followed along, leading the mare. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with her once I got her inside though. I certainly wasn’t going to let this asshole take over.
Turns out, I didn’t need to worry. Another man was standing in the aisle between stalls, glaring daggers at the fuckhead.
The moment he saw me and the mare, his eyes widened.
I stopped and stared, because holy shit, he was beautiful.
Shaggy light brown hair, bright hazel eyes, and his cheekbones could cut glass.
He was wearing too many layers for me to really judge his body, but he was at least a couple inches taller than my 5’10” and had broad shoulders.
I certainly liked what I saw, but kept it off my face. I’d had a lot of practice.
The man turned to the fuckhead and sighed. “Want to tell me why you’re not leading that horse?”
Fuckhead scoffed. “She hates me. Look! I got a rope burn.” He held out a hand where an angry red line graced his palm.
“Seems like she has good reason,” I muttered, not really trying to keep my voice down. Fuckhead whirled on me.
“Fuck you!”
“Take a walk, Lenny,” the pretty man said with a sigh. When fuckhead turned on him, pretty man’s eyes hardened, but his tone stayed neutral. “Go on.”
Fuckhead wanted to argue. It was all over his face. Instead, he slammed a fist into a stall door, which made the mare jump, and stormed off. We both watched him go. It wasn’t until he was good and gone before pretty man turned toward me.
“You Tyler?” He asked and waited for my nod before he continued. “I’m Harris Emery. Morgan said you’d be coming. Thank you for catching her. Rosie’s one of our rescues and a bit skittish.”
“Or she knows a fuckhead when she sees one.”
Harris’s lips twitched. “Lenny is…yeah, I got nothing. But I appreciate your help, all the same.”
“You’re welcome. Wanna show me where to put her?”
Harris gestured at one of the open stalls about halfway down.
I clicked my tongue and led her into the stall, then moved slowly as I removed the halter.
She jerked her head free but didn’t seem ready to bolt.
Out of habit, I checked the water bucket and saw it was full, so I stepped out and shut the door behind me.
Harris was studying me. “You know horses.”
It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway. “We had a couple when I was growing up. My brother and I took care of them. Haven’t dealt with them much since I joined the Corps though.”
“Ah. You must be a friend of Barrett’s then.”
“We served together,” I confirmed.
He squinted. “You on leave?”