Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
The mist hovered like ghosts over the pasture, clouds cut behind the black shadow of Starlight Mountain, bright white against brilliant morning blue.
Willow hadn’t seen anything so breathtaking for years.
Up early and on horseback, she felt like she was part of the earth, part of the air.
Thunder kept a gentle pace, like she, too, knew how beautiful it was, the birds darting in and out of the silhouetted pines.
Willow found it hard to believe sometimes that it was the same horse that Noah had first introduced her too in the paddock. And it was difficult to believe that the same Dylan Hawkins who had smashed the windows of her dad’s truck had gently coaxed that wild angry horse into this one.
She rode alongside Dylan now, thinking about the atmosphere at the Silver Sky Ranch.
Emmett still seething that Noah had employed Dylan’s help.
She wanted to drag him over here and show him the difference.
But she knew her dad well enough to know that it wouldn’t make the blindest bit of difference.
He didn’t need to see things to believe them, he believed what was in his head.
“Is this pace all right for you?” Dylan asked. He was riding the colt, Mercury, whose silver coat seemed to sparkle in the sunlight.
“All good,” she replied, surprised by how comforting it felt to have him check on her.
As soon as she thought it, she tried to unthink it.
She didn’t have space for feelings like that.
Willow made a point of looking after herself.
She was single-minded, independent, and determined, and proud of the fact.
She feared maybe being out here in Autumn Falls was making her soft.
It made her up the pace slightly, edge out in front.
“No way,” came the voice now behind her. “I’m setting the pace here. I’m not having you winding her up again.”
Willow itched to disobey, to take Thunder up another gear, but she slowed because Thunder wasn’t her horse at the moment, and Dylan was doing her a favor.
It had also made her knee twinge and she’d been about to slow anyway, learning to listen to her injury.
But it didn’t stop her saying. “You sound like one of my brothers.”
“As long as it’s not Brodie, I’m okay with that.”
Willow couldn’t help laughing. “Brodie’s okay.”
Dylan raised a brow. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”
Willow had promised herself not to look at him too long.
Glances only. But when she glanced over, he was watching her with a smile on his face.
It made her skin get warm and sent a prickle up her spine.
He wasn’t wearing anything special, just his jeans and a black sweater, but in the early morning light he looked younger somehow, more like the teenager she remembered.
She pulled her hat down lower so she wouldn’t keep looking. Dylan didn’t seem to have that problem.
They weren’t out for long. He showed her the track he’d created in the far pasture. The lush grass freshly mown.
“That must have taken you hours,” she said, looking at it in awe.
He shrugged. “I’ve time to kill here.”
It made her realize how alone he was. There were no other Hawkins left in town. In contrast, the Carters were getting bigger and bigger. She found herself wanting to invite him round for dinner—then imagined her dad’s face if Dylan walked through the kitchen door.
“Have you got a home somewhere, Dylan?” she asked, wondering suddenly if he had a whole other life somewhere else like she did, all her possessions in her Manhattan apartment: books on shelves, clothes in her closet, coffee in the fridge. “Wife and kids waiting for you?”
That made him laugh. “No. It’s just me and Elvis.”
“Who you got from your mom,” she clarified, trying to piece together his history.
“That is correct,” he replied, giving nothing more away.
“So, they split up, your mom and dad? If she has a new husband and kid?”
“You’re a regular Columbo, aren’t you?” Dylan said, turning Mercury around so they could head back to the ranch.
Willow rolled her eyes as she followed behind with Thunder, who slowed less because Willow told her to and more because it was what Dylan was doing. Even the darn horse adored him. “I’m just trying to figure things out,” she called, then as she got level, said, “I like to know what’s going on.”
“I think in the old days they called that a busybody.”
Willow laughed and reached across and swatted his arm. “I am not a busybody.”
Dylan looked down at where she’d hit him.
She swallowed, the touch having seemed immediately too intimate the moment she did it.
Her laughter suddenly inappropriate. She thought of her family watching.
Hated how every moment, every involuntary laugh, made her remember how wrong it was that she was here with him.
Reminded her how everything was wrong. How far removed this pocket was from real life.
She didn’t ask any more questions. Instead, she let Thunder walk happily alongside till they got back to the paddock.
With the horses grazing, Dylan said, “I don’t really think you’re a busybody, by the way.”
Willow took her hat off, trying to do something with her hair, which had gone even more curly in the morning mist. “Don’t worry, it just makes you more like Noah and less like Brodie—he’ll blab away about his life first opportunity he gets.”
Dylan leaned with his back against the paddock fence, his elbows hooked over the wood. “I don’t mind talking about it,” he said. “I guess it’s just been a long time since I have.” He glanced briefly at the house. “I’m more used to living day-to-day.”
Willow looked over, too. Tumbledown and weather-ravaged, there was an eeriness to the place.
She didn’t want to leave Dylan there, instead she wanted to drag him away, back with her to Silver Sky.
But she wouldn’t. He was a grown man, didn’t need her rescuing him.
Then as the sun caught the peeling white paint and glistened on the cracked windowpanes, she thought maybe it just looked like a sad piece of history.
“Are you coming back tomorrow?” he asked.
She ran her fingers through her hair, flumping out the curls that she’d found herself getting used to again. It was so much easier just letting it curl. “You inviting me?”
Dylan frowned. “Wasn’t that an invitation just then?”
Willow laughed. “You’re so like Noah.”
Dylan rolled his eyes. “Can you please stop comparing me to Carters.”
“Sorry.” Willow found herself sniggering like a school kid.
Dylan ducked through the paddock fence, shaking his head at her apparent amusement. “Don’t come tomorrow. I take back my invitation.”
Willow walked backward a few steps, “I didn’t think it was an invitation in the first place.”
“Well, it definitely isn’t now,” he called, walking over to the horses.
“See you tomorrow,” she shouted, turning away, smiling.
But the smile fell the second she looked up and saw her dad standing there with his arms crossed and his face set in fury.
Willow stopped, frozen, her blood suddenly pounding in her head. Every possible lie ran through her mind as she stared at him, standing in his old plaid shirt, dark jeans, and boots. His eyes were in shadow, but she knew his expression well enough from the tight set of his mouth.
She imagined what she must look like. Hair wild and loose, laughing as she’d walked away from Dylan with a spring in her step.
Emmett didn’t move, just watched her. She found herself slowing, wanted to turn and walk the other way.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw that Dylan had seen Emmett, too.
He jumped the fence and started striding over.
She wanted to tell him to stop and go back, it wasn’t worth it, but she found herself too panicky, too befuddled by it all.
Her bad knee wouldn’t let her walk quick enough.
She could feel the simmering anger in her dad’s gaze the closer she got. His top lip looked so taut with anger it was almost twitching.
“I don’t even want to know what you’re doing here,” he said slowly as she approached. “But you don’t come here again. Understand.”
Willow swallowed. She felt like she was fifteen. Fear and disgrace meant that all she could do was nod.
“And you sure as heck don’t drive my truck on this land.”
Dylan came up then and said, “Can I help you, Mr. Carter?”
Emmett scoffed. “Can you help me?” He looked at Dylan with such disgust that Willow found herself ashamed. “You can help me by getting the heck out of my sight.”
“Dad!”
“Get in the truck, Willow.”
She glanced at Dylan with a sigh. “I’m sorry.”
Dylan shook his head like it was fine, it didn’t matter.
Her dad was already climbing into Noah’s Jeep, which he’d obviously borrowed to come and get her. He put his hand on the horn to get Willow moving.
She shot him a look, wanting him to just stop a second and listen, but he was visibly seething and there was no talking to him when he looked like that.
Willow was so embarrassed. So angry. She made a face of apology to Dylan who was watching the whole thing, silently impassive, then put her head down and marched as best as she was able to march with her bad knee to the truck.
As she started the engine, her head was pounding with all the things she wanted to shout, but she knew her dad wouldn’t listen.
He sat steely in the Jeep waiting for her leave the property first, clearly wanting to make sure that she was off Hawkins land.
Pettily, she put her foot on the gas and reversed his precious, brand-new truck at speed out of the Hawkins drive.
Didn’t wait around just bombed it back to the Silver Sky Ranch, hands shaking on the steering wheel.
As she drove, she ran through every possible retort, every line of argument she could, ready to have it out with him the moment they got back.
But when she turned into the ranch, she realized suddenly why he’d come to find her.
Milling on the Silver Sky veranda, were about fifteen little nine-year-olds, all in various colorful shades of dancewear, ready for their lesson.