Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Willow got up early, restless. And annoyingly disappointed. Dylan was leaving.
She found it difficult doing nothing, her body was itching to move, to rehearse, to get stronger.
She missed New York. She missed her friends, the structure, the work.
Being with her brothers and their partners the evening before, while nice, had left her with a claustrophobic feeling of isolation, like her real life—the one she’d built away from here—was out there somewhere and she was grasping to catch hold of it.
She envied Dylan taking off. She knew exactly what he meant about the heavy weight of history.
There was a lightness to New York. She missed the mornings especially, taking her place at the barre in Company Class, everyone together.
It didn’t help that the exercises she had to do at the moment were awful; the pain made her want to cry as she sat alone in the living room.
She heard the back door open and, craning her neck so she could see through into the kitchen, saw Logan arrive. He talked for a bit to her parents and then poked his head into the living room and said, “You want coffee, Willow?”
She stood up and her leg almost gave way underneath her, aching from the exercises, but she managed to catch herself without gripping the back of the couch for aid, which was better than when she’d arrived, at least. “Yeah, I’ll come through. Thanks, Logan.”
He didn’t go and get coffee. Instead, he watched her walk over to the door, waiting, she presumed to see if she needed any help.
“Mom says you’re a tricky patient.”
Willow shook her head, immediately exasperated. “A, I’m not a patient, and B, I’m not tricky, and C, Mom! Why are you telling Logan I’m tricky?”
Martha, however, couldn’t help laughing. “I never said that! Logan, you’re getting me in trouble! All I might have said was that you were maybe struggling a little bit with being injured.” Her mom’s cheeks had darkened as she tried to dig herself out of a hole under Willow’s glare.
Logan seemed to assess her as he went to pour the coffee and said, “You were in a bit of a weird mood last night.”
Willow sighed in frustration. “I was not.”
The screen door banged and Noah came in.
Logan turned to him. “Willow was in a bit of weird mood last night, right?”
Noah took his hat off and ran his hands through his hair, already sweaty from work. “A little touchy.”
Willow’s jaw dropped. “I wasn’t! I was just being honest about—” She stopped when her dad walked into the room behind Noah, not wanting to bring up the sensitive subject of the past in front of him.
Noah shrugged like he wasn’t really bothered either way what she thought, he was sticking to his opinion.
Emmett, who wasn’t one for any kind of talk about emotions or feelings, ignored the whole chat and said to Noah, “Where’ve you been? I looked for you this morning.”
Noah walked over to pour himself a coffee before answering. He got a cup out of the cupboard and didn’t look up as he said, “I’ve been over to the Hawkins place.”
Willow’s mug paused momentarily, mid-sip, heart suddenly pounding—had Dylan said something to Noah about her?
The air stilled in the room, looks passing between them, all the back and forth about her mood forgotten.
Emmett narrowed his eyes. “You get that horse back?”
Willow felt as if guilt was radiating off her, her eyes were darting everywhere, from Noah to her dad to Logan.
Noah seemed unusually interested in the floorboards. “Not exactly.”
Willow frowned. Why wouldn’t Dylan give Noah back Thunder if he was leaving?
Logan cocked his head at his brother, frowning. “What does that mean?”
“What does it mean?” Emmett said more slowly, narrowing his eyes.
Willow felt the deafening thump of her heart.
Noah ran his hand over his mouth working out how best to say what he was going to say, his expression somewhat pained. “When I got there, Dylan was riding Thunder.”
Emmett’s hand on the table clenched into a fist. “So?”
Logan looked quizzically at Willow. It was like they were kids. Threads of tension running between them. Noah swallowed. “Dad, she’s the fastest horse I’ve ever seen.”
Willow suddenly had an inkling of what might be coming.
She felt her whole demeanor change, her lips twitch with a smile that she had to hide by taking a sip of coffee.
She didn’t want to look at her dad, or Logan or anyone.
She found herself secretly hoping that Noah was about to say something that the rest of them would hate.
“Dylan Hawkins is a horse trainer,” Noah went on. “Meant to be one of the best.”
Willow didn’t know that. She got a weird little tickle of pride.
“I don’t care if he’s the darn King of England, Dylan Hawkins is not training one of our horses, Noah.
” Emmett spoke with the kind of icy calm in his voice that usually made Willow’s stomach hollow, but right then, she was just thinking about the fact that if Dylan Hawkins was training Thunder, then Dylan Hawkins was staying around.
Noah studied his mug for a moment, then he looked up at Emmett and said, “If she’s as good as he thinks she is, she deserves a chance.”
Emmett thumped the table so hard that Willow jumped.
“Emmett!” scolded Martha. “Calm down.”
But Emmett just got up and stalked out the room. Willow watched, excitement mingling with fear making her barely able to sit still.
Noah pulled out a chair and sat down wearily.
While the others exchanged wary glances, Willow was buzzing with the turn of events. Why had Dylan agreed to stay when Noah asked him? Was it just for the horse, or was it maybe a tiny little bit because of her. No, she couldn’t think like that.
Either way, the dull grayness of her convalescence horizon had suddenly lit up like a rainbow.
The others were talking—her mom and Logan thought Noah was crazy, but Noah said that he didn’t have the skill to train Thunder himself and it was too good an opportunity to pass up.
Logan sipped his coffee. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“It’s just business,” Noah replied.
Martha sighed. “Nothing’s just business where the Hawkins are concerned.”
Willow stayed quiet. She waited till her brothers had left and her mom had gone over to The Silver Pantry, before grabbing the keys to the truck and, on the pretense of going into town, drove straight over to the Hawkins ranch.
As she turned in, her fingers on the steering wheel tingled with a strange excitement that she hadn’t felt since she’d got her first starring role.
Dylan was over in the paddock with Thunder. He stopped what he was doing when he heard the truck in the drive and waited by the fence for her to walk over. The air was white mist and warm sunshine. She could feel him watching her every step.
“Nice hair,” he said as soon as she got close, straightening up, arms folded.
She’d forgotten about the curls. Realized it looked like she’d done it for him. Which she had, kind of, but not really. She tied it up on top of her head. Watched him smile arrogantly, and wished she’d left it loose.
Under his gaze, she felt suddenly overeager, her excitement misplaced.
“So, what can I do for you?” His hair was tied back under his hat, and he had the collar of his shirt turned up against the vague chill, though the sleeves were rolled up over the elbow.
“Well, I was coming to say goodbye but then I heard you weren’t leaving,” she replied, leaning against the fence, trying not to be too distracted by the sight of him. She beckoned Thunder over. “In fact, I heard you got yourself a job.”
His mouth stretched into a smile, the rays of sun making his eyes narrow. “I wouldn’t call it a job, so to speak. More like a partnership.”
She raised a brow. “Is that what Noah calls it?” Thunder didn’t seem interested in heading Willow’s way.
Dylan looked at her long and lazy. “It’s what I call it, that’s all that matters to me.” Then he whistled through his teeth and the horse immediately sauntered over in his direction.
Willow couldn’t help rolling her eyes which made Dylan smile. She found when she made him smile a burst of warmth spread through her. “So, why’d you agree to this partnership?”
He dug in his pocket for a mint and gave it to her to give to Thunder. “I’m still asking myself that very question.” He paused, sucked in a breath. “I’m not sure I should have done.”
She held her hand out for the horse, who came and snaffled up the mint. They were building up a little rapport, Thunder now letting her stroke her nose while she nuzzled for more mints. “Couldn’t resist the opportunity?” she asked, glancing briefly Dylan’s way.
There was a beat of silence that was painfully reminiscent of times they would find themselves near each other at school.
“Something like that,” he replied, eyes heavy and dark.
She had to look away down at the grass, feeling her cheeks warm bashfully.
“Is that why you’re here?” he asked.
She ran her finger along the grain of the weather-beaten paddock wood. “Something like that,” she replied.
There was a pause, as if they were both coming up for air. Then Dylan caught her by surprise by saying matter-of-factly, “Good, you can start by grabbing yourself a shovel.”
She looked up with a frown.
He started to walk back to the barn. “There’s a lot of work to do,” he called without turning.