Chapter Fifteen #2
“You absolutely do,” Atlee says.
Brinley’s smiling now, and I can feel myself losing this battle.
They fall into easy conversation while I finish tossing hay. Atlee gestures around the property like she’s a tour guide, pointing out the pond and the fence line. She mentions how the barn doors stick when it rains.
When they wander back toward me, Atlee’s expression has changed, but the teasing edge is still there. I straighten slowly, bracing myself.
She looks back and forth between us. “You gonna warn her, or should I?”
Brinley blinks. “Warn me about what?”
“He wants you to think he’s laid-back,” Atlee says, jerking her chin toward me. “He’s not, though. Not even close.”
“I’m standing right here,” I mutter.
“He’ll act like he’s not hovering,” she continues, completely ignoring me. “But if someone so much as breathes wrong in your direction, he’ll mysteriously appear.”
“Atlee.”
“He’ll say he’s giving you space,” she says. “Meanwhile, he’s already noticed who’s standing too close and watching to make sure no one’s being an idiot.”
“That’s not—”
“Isn’t it?” She arches a brow. “I told him some guy kept flirting with me at a party once, and the next day, I found out he just… happened to stop by the guy’s job. He said he wanted to introduce himself.” She adds air quotes again at the end.
“What’s wrong with being friendly?” I counter.
She looks back at Brinley, dead serious now. “He’s overprotective. He just disguises it as being helpful.”
“That’s not entirely true.”
Brinley’s smile curves slow, like she’s enjoying every second of this. “I can see that about him already.”
“Traitor,” I mutter.
Atlee ignores me. “Just thought you should have the full picture.”
Before I can retaliate, she’s already digging her phone out of her back pocket.
“We should hang out,” she says to Brinley. “Maybe catch one of his games together.”
“I’d like that,” Brinley answers easily.
Atlee grins. “Perfect. We’ll get seats behind the net. I’ll bring a sign too. He hates it when he knows I’m chirping him.”
“I will burn it.”
“I’ll make one too.” Brinley smiles.
I groan. Atlee laughs, backing toward her car. “Be good,” she calls over her shoulder. “Or at least act like you are.”
Atlee climbs back into her BMW and pulls away, kicking up gravel as she takes off.
Brinley steps closer, sliding her arms around my waist. I pull her in without thinking, needing to soak up the warmth of her body and the feel of her close to me again.
“Your sister’s great,” she says.
“She is,” I tell her. “Even when she’s a menace.”
She tilts her head back to look at me. “You’re different with her. Maybe a little overprotective, like she said… but I like it.”
“Yeah?”
She nods.
I kiss her before I can talk myself out of it, desperately wanting to change the conversation. Her fingers bunch in the front of my shirt like they always do, like she needs something solid to hold on to.
When we pull back, she smiles. “So. You gonna put me to work or what?”
I huff out a laugh. “You volunteering for farm labor now?”
She grins. “I told you I would. Plus, I want to see the animals.”
I grab an extra pair of gloves off the fence post and hand them to her. “Rule number one: don’t stand directly behind anything bigger than you.”
“It’s super reassuring the way you just tossed that out there.”
I glance down at her. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”
She smirks. It’s softer now, and falls into step beside me as I lead her toward the first pen with our highland cows.
“This is my girl, Defense,” I say, resting my forearms along the fence.
Brinley smiles without meaning to. “She’s perfect.”
Defense flicks an ear and takes one unhurried step closer.
“Named her after my favorite thing to play,” I say.
Brinley edges up to the fence. “Hi, Defense,” she murmurs, like she expects a response. All she gets is a huff.
“Careful,” I warn. “You’re not supposed to like her more than me.”
She glances back at me. “Are you jealous of a cow?”
“Completely.”
We wander over to the goats.
“That little asshole is Penalty.”
He stops mid-chew and stares at her.
She reaches her hand out toward him. “He’s adorable.”
“He’s trouble.”
Penalty decides she passes inspection and presses his forehead into her glove.
I shake my head. “Unbelievable.”
She glances back at me, smug. “He likes me.”
“You say that now. Wait until he’s chasing you around or head-butts you because you didn’t feed him quickly enough.”
She doesn’t hesitate when I hand her the feed bucket.
Doesn’t complain about the dirt on her jeans or when Penalty tries to chew the sleeve of my hoodie.
When I show her how to latch the gate so he can’t nose it open again, she watches, then does it herself like she actually cares about getting it right.
At some point, she swipes at her face and leaves a streak of dust across her cheek.
She catches me staring. “What?”
I step closer and brush it away with my thumb. “You’ve got a little—”
She goes still under my hand. “Oh.”
Her fingers wrap lightly around my wrist before she lets go. “Thanks.”
My shoulder pulls when I lower my arm. I ignore it.
“You’re good at this,” she says after a minute.
“At feeding cows and goats?”
“At taking care of things… people.”
I let out a quiet breath. “I’ll always take care of the people and things important to me. Plus, someone’s gotta do it. Right?”
She studies me like she’s deciding whether to push further, then just nods.
We finish the last of the feed, and by the time we’re done, it’s late afternoon. The sun is starting to slide down behind the tree line. Penalty loses interest in us the second his bucket hits the ground, head down like we never existed.
Brinley leans against the fence beside me, her hip brushing mine.
“I like this,” she says.
“This?”
“Being out here. With you.”
I glance at her, then out over the field.
“It’s so different from all the places I’ve lived growing up,” she says quietly. “It’s peaceful.”
It is. I grew up out here. I forget sometimes that not everyone gets to experience this.
Out here, there’s no noise. No crowd or media breathing down my neck. No one watching to see if I screw up. As much as I want to leave Rixton and play in the NHL, this will always be my home.
My shoulder still aches, but it’s easier to ignore with her beside me with the relaxed smile on her face.
I’m not thinking about our game on Thursday.
I’m just standing here, her body leaning against mine, the breeze pushing her hair across her face until she tucks it back.
For now, I don’t need anything else.