8. 8
8
Honey
I was in the paddock with Misty tied to the gate when Granny came over. A wise lecture brewed, like swollen thunderhead clouds rolling on a horizon. My hands were trembling when I threw the heavy saddle onto Misty’s back, fingers struggling to tighten the girth around her belly and attach the breastplate to the front of the saddle. I knew Granny was going to try and talk me out of going to the Hayes’ to see Beau when my emotions were so frazzled. The sensible side of me agreed. But I’d been completely blind-sighted and I felt the betrayal stirring inside of me wouldn’t settle until I gave Beau a piece of my mind.
‘I know you’re smart enough to know what you’re doing,’ said Granny gently, passing me Misty’s bridle which was handcrafted with a sunflower pattern.
‘How could he not tell me?’ I was tired of asking this question over and over, afraid of learning the answer, since the one and only Colton Hayes had waltzed into The Honey Pot.
I slipped Misty’s halter from her head, replacing it with the bridle. She chomped on the bit calmly as I fastened the buckles.
Granny sighed, waving a few pesky flies from her eyes who tried to find any moisture on a hot day. ‘I imagine the poor boy is terrified.’
I flicked the leather reins over Misty’s neck, shoved my boot in the stirrup and swung myself into the saddle, the hard ears pressing into my thighs. ‘Why would he be scared?’
My grandmother’s eyes swarmed with that elderly wisdom. ‘Because he knew you’d react this way.’
‘It’s not like that,’ I muttered, gathering up the reins.
‘Mm hm.’
I left Granny to scrutinise me from the shade of her floppy straw hat as I turned Misty away and squeezed her dappled sides. The mare’s head bobbed in a lively walk, her ears twitching at the sounds around us; her legs swishing through the grass, the annoying buzz of flies, the wind whispering through the orchard. When we reached the back paddocks connected to the shared boundary fence, I squeezed Misty’s sides until her hooves thundered the ground in a fast gallop. I rose in my saddle slightly, keeping my balance by distributing my weight into the stirrups evenly. My arms pumped with the fast strains of Misty’s neck.
I’d originally planned to pay Beau a visit straight after closing the store,, but during the speedy drive with Duke panting at my side, I hadn’t been able to form the words of what I’d wanted to say. I’d only had a whole twenty-four hours. The old ute had been parked in the carport with a skidding halt, allowing Duke to retreat to the shade of the verandah, while I’d dragged my riding gear from the shed and beelined to Misty’s paddock. A ride had always been the best way to clear my head. Whether it be to think of new content for The Honey Pot’s Instagram in a bid to encourage purchases from the online store, brainstorm campaigns to promote our quaint but beautiful town to tourists, or how to tell writers that had hired me through my editing services that their work needed a lot of revision and editing.
It’d been some time since I’d gone for a gallop to mull over boy problems.
Because Colton hadn’t been around.
Misty charged through the paddocks of orchards teeming with summer fruits. Their scents were refreshing; peaches and mangoes, apples and dragon fruits, pears and oranges. There was also a patch of watermelons, great big green lumps amongst the vines providing them with life, and there were collections of berries in the greenhouse. Birds twittered and flapped about, trying to break through the nets which protected the fruit from their pesky beaks.
My thoughts steadily began to unjumble themselves, like a ball of yarn Granny would meticulously unpick until it was soft and unkinked again. I knew that by reacting to Colton’s return in such a way was proving Beau and Granny to be right—that I was still in love with the wrong brother. But how could I not react this way?
Colton Hayes was my childhood sweetheart. He’d proposed to me a year after graduating high school, only to decide that Gumtree Valley, and everyone in it, was no longer good enough for him a few months later. As his fiancé, he’d expected me to follow him to the USA so I could watch him get beaten up by angry bulls. My dreams hadn’t mattered. Only his. He hadn’t expected me to say no.
I didn’t understand why I allowed myself to be wrapped up by him. He’d hurt me—badly. I’d suffered through more than he knew—alone. Colton Hayes brought out a side of me I didn’t like; reckless and sometimes angry. Fiery and unafraid. He was bad for me. The sooner I realised history didn’t bind people together forever, the better.
Beau, on the other hand. was everything I needed—I mean, wanted —in a guy. A reputable horse trainer; breeding, breaking and selling quarter horses all over Australia. Beau was calm, solid and smart. Approaching thirty, he was ready to settle down and have a family. A wife by his side. Kids running around at their feet. I wanted the same.
Beau was good. Colton was bad. Beau was my future and Colton my past.
So why did I still want to tear Beau a new one as Misty trotted towards the Double Q Ranch homestead?
The young horses in the smaller yards between the barn and big paddocks whinnied as Misty plodded up the laneways. Big sprinklers ticked around in their yards, giving them a small reprieve from the heat. They jostled along the fence lines to snort at the newcomers, the same DQR branded on their shoulders. Reaching the end of the laneway, I jumped down from Misty, my jeans now sticking to me where my legs had sweated against the saddle. My eyes immediately found the black ute parked in front of the house, next to a hired vehicle. I shook myself and walked with Misty towards the barn where a radio played music.
I jumped back and Misty startled when a hay bale was thrown down into the aisle from the loft above.
‘Beau?’ I called.
The country music stopped. Beau’s face appeared over the railing above, glossy and shaded by a trucker cap and his cut-off shirt displayed impressive muscles. I didn’t miss the not-so-pleased look on his face before he disappeared from sight, his heavy steps thumping down the staircase. I put Misty in an empty stall, removing her bridle but leaving her saddle on in case this conversation meant I’d be taking off in a dramatic hurry.
‘Hey,’ he said just as I latched the stall door closed.
‘Hi.’ I hung the bridle on a hook, looking down at the ground with my arms folded tightly across my chest. ‘Is there something you’ve been wanting to tell me? About the help you hired around here?’
Beau gave a scoff, his bicep flexing as he lifted his hat to run a hand through his sweaty dark hair. ‘You play hot and cold with me for weeks and when you do decide to eventually come around it’s about him?’
‘The night I rang you after your dad’s accident, you told me you’d hired someone to help with the horses. Did you not think then would’ve been a good time to warn me Colton was coming home?’
Beau tossed an empty bucket towards the feed bins. I couldn’t help but jump. Not because I was afraid of Beau—he wouldn’t hurt a fly—but because I’d never seen him act out of frustration before. ‘I didn’t tell you because I wanted to protect you.’
‘Protect me?’ My voice hitched. ‘I looked like a bloody idiot when he came into my store yesterday!’
‘ What? Why was he at The Honey Pot?’ Beau looked genuinely shocked—and angry.
I threw my hands up in the air. ‘Buying your dad a book apparently!’
He swore under his breath, running a hand across his trimmed beard to make a scratchy sound. ‘I’m sorry. He said he didn’t want to go to town while he was back.’
‘Yeah, well he did.’ I slumped against Misty’s stall, smiling slightly when her hot breaths tickled my neck. ‘So was your plan to keep him hidden out here until you no longer needed his help?’
‘Pretty much,’ said Beau simply. He came to stand next to me, removing his hat so I could look at the blue orbs he shared with his brother. While Colton’s were piercing and fierce, his were deep and soulful. ‘I really am sorry, Honey. I was just trying to keep you safe. If I’d known he’d be going to town, let alone your store, I would’ve warned you.’
Misty hung her head between us, allowing me to play with her soft forelock. Beau was stroking her thick neck on the other side. He always said horses were the best kind of therapy. They were sensitive creatures, ones which reflected our moods. If they sensed us angry, they became skittish. If we made sure to keep our heightened emotions in check and spoke in low, calm voices, they, too, relaxed. He’d been playing around with the idea of starting an equine therapy clinic. I’d been helping him with the administration side of things. But while I loved sharing my passions and making connections through social media, Beau preferred his privacy. It made the creation of engaging promotional content difficult.
‘Is that really the only reason why you didn’t tell me?’ I found myself asking, our fingers brushing together when our hands moved to Misty’s face who was enjoying the attention.
Beau’s face hardened. His broad shoulders shrugged. ‘Does it matter?’
I moved around Misty’s face to press myself against his hot and sweaty body, my arms wrapping tightly around his waist. ‘I chose you , Beau. Remember that.’
I could practically hear his mind calculating if he should believe me. I hated that so much mistrust had been created between us, we had to mull over almost every conversation we had.
‘I was thinking, we haven’t gone out in a while. What if we went for dinner Saturday night?’ His fingertips trailed up and down my bare arms.
I didn’t need to ask him where he was thinking. There was only one place in Gumtree Valley people went to eat of a night—Tailgates. ‘Hm. You’re on. I could really go for a surf and turf.’
He chuckled warmly. ‘Pick you up at six?’
I grinned up at him. ‘It’s a date.’
When he grabbed my hand in his, dragging me up the staircase to the hay loft, I waited for the butterflies to flutter around my tummy. I should’ve been a melting puddle, my brain gone to mush when he laid me down gently amongst the bales, but my brain was a smoking mess burnt out from overthinking. Beau and I always fought, and I hadn’t considered it to be a problem if we always made up. But I knew that Colton’s reappearance was going to be the cusp of further arguments between Beau and I. Arguments which wouldn’t be smoothed over with a dinner date or roll in the hay. A roll in the hay which always ended with me having to fake an orgasm. Colton was always going to be a sore spot between us. A black cloud, swollen with rain, ready to unleash its downpour. It wouldn’t be the type of rainstorm seen in a Hollywood movie with actors embraced in a romantic kiss, though. Rather, the type of drenching to leave me bedridden, fighting a nasty cold. Colton would always have a hold on Beau and I. Small arguments would always circle back to him, like a festering disease. Always there and never healed, popping up in ugly moments.
When Beau’s mouth began moving down my neck, his work-roughened hands roaming over parts of me which should have tingled, it wasn’t butterflies which filled me, but bees.
Big, black and yellow, pissed off, stinging bees.