Chapter 10 Look Homeward （Kane）
LOOK HOMEWARD (KANE)
If there’s a cardinal rule I’ve learned after nearly a decade of being a dad, it’s when your kid has a shot at a pony ride, you’d be a fool to stand in their way.
Which is why I’m following in their tracks as we ride down Sully Bay’s red cobblestone streets, gently curling up and down small hills.
Horseback riding’s a great way to see more of the town. The kids were too excited to say no when they saw the place offering rides.
Margot was a little more hesitant with the horses, especially when the attendant said we’d have to share one.
Better that than having her ride alone.
She’s not a horse girl.
She’s a city girl to the core who never developed a taste for pricey equestrian outings, and she’s only ridden a few times in her life.
“Mostly on lead rein,” she confessed, half-embarrassed, as the attendant led the horse over to us.
“It’s fine,” I told her. “I can handle a horse. Used to go riding on my uncle’s farm in Wyoming back in the day.”
Her eyes sparkled.
I did my damnedest not to think about the fact that she’d be sitting right in front of me.
With her delectable ass now lodged against my cock, it’s a lot harder not to remember that with every movement.
“Oh my God! I forgot this can be so warm.” She laughs, her back brushing my chest and her fingers half an inch from mine on the reins.
The horse or me?
“What did you expect, duchess?”
“Don’t know. Like I said, it’s been a while.” She leans forward, wedging her ass even more firmly against me, patting his neck. “But you’re a good boy, aren’t you, Thorin?”
All the horses are named after Tolkien characters, even the ponies, which made the kids scream with delight.
Sophie’s perched on Galadriel and Dan’s on Boromir. They’re so excited they kept butchering the names.
“I can’t believe I never tried this here,” she says, straightening upright again.
Yeah, unbelievable.
It’s a surprisingly warm day, cloudless and blue. Sully Bay is one of those quaint coastal fishing towns that looks like it sprouted up from the landscape sometime in the last two centuries and hasn’t changed much since.
Very different from New York.
Different from my uncle’s place out west, too, which always had something falling down in need of a fix and people running around to keep up an active cattle farm.
Never thought I’d be one for country living, but here we are.
Today, it’s the getaway I needed.
If only Little Miss Sweetass would stop rubbing every time she twists around to catch the passing scenery.
I think it’s unintentional, but we’ve only been riding for about ten minutes or so, and my balls are blue enough to rival that heap of blueberries back at the house.
It takes work to keep her from noticing how hard I am.
Luckily, she’s distracted by everything she sees, from the friendly people waving to the jealous boy who makes a face behind his ice cream cone when he sees my kids.
“Why does it look so different on a horse? It’s like a whole new town.” She giggles and her hair brushes my chin.
Goddamn.
She smells like vanilla and the last hint of summer, and it does terrible things to me as it mingles with the fall smells in the air.
“Maybe you just forgot?”
“Nope,” she says with a flick of her hand. “According to Sophie, I only have another few years until I’m half-senile like you.”
“Shut it,” I say, winking at Sophie when she overhears and throws back a smile.
“Sorry, Dad. You know it’s true!”
“If it’s true, then you’ll be my caretaker. I’m not going off to a damn home.”
Dan chuckles and Margot waves gracefully at the people passing by like she’s a regal princess traveling her kingdom.
“Let’s go left,” she decides, waving at a friendly old lady. “Hi, Mrs. Solomon!”
I ease our horse to a crawl, calling to Sophie and Dan to hang back and join us.
“Do I know you?” Mrs. Solomon squints up at us. She’s a tiny woman, probably in her nineties with puffy white hair curls around her head and dark eyes that still seem vibrant.
“It’s Margot,” she says. “Leonidas’ granddaughter?”
“Margot.” Mrs. Solomon’s face splits into a grin, creasing her skin like old leather. “You should’ve said something sooner, honey. Glad to see a Blackthorn back in this town!”
Margot laughs brightly, shifting against me again.
I remind myself that we’re in public, and the last thing I should do is pop a hard-on here, right in front of little old ladies and all.
I try like hell to focus on the conversation.
“I was dreadfully sad to hear the news about your granddad,” she says, frowning. “Such a great man. It was always so nice when he came around with you and your brother.”
“Ethan,” Margot supplies.
“That’s right. Ethan. How’s he doing now? I heard he got engaged.”
“He did. They’re married, actually. You remember my friend who used to come here sometimes? Hattie?”
“The one with the glasses? Always had her nose stuck in a book, yes.” Mrs. Solomon’s grin widens. “She used to come into my shop looking for paperbacks and she’d need your help to carry her haul.”
“Until we came back the next week, yeah!”
“She’s the one he married?”
“That’s right,” Margot says and laughs again. “None of us saw that one coming.”
“Oh my, how lovely. Opposites do attract. It’s not just a saying.”
My dick throbs in agreement.
“No argument there,” Margot says.
They talk a bit more, reminiscing about the past and coming into her old bookstore to pick through stories and relax.
That’s the whole atmosphere here.
Must be the reason why I feel like I’m finally relaxing for the first time since we arrived.
“We do like the quiet life here,” Mrs. Solomon says. “Sometimes the tourists bring a bit of trouble, but you won’t see folks locking their doors or fussing with those fancy doorbell cameras.”
Maybe they should start, I think darkly.
“We’re lucky this town’s more Mayberry than Redhaven. Seriously, I’ve heard that place has more murders than people,” Margot says lightly.
Mrs. Solomon laughs in agreement.
They gab on about some little town in North Carolina I’ve never heard of, ruled by a creepy family with an iron fist, and a few gory cases that made national news.
Soon, Mrs. Solomon continues on her way, and I start moving us along the path again.
“Was that intentional? Trying to flush out some weirdness by mentioning that Redhaven place?”
“Yep. Sounds like nothing too weird’s been going on lately,” Margot murmurs with relief.
“Not by the sound of it, no. Worth it to follow up with a few more people.”
“For sure.” She settles a little more firmly against me, relaxing a little.
Half an hour ago, she panicked at being on a horse, but now she’s perched in front of me like a pro.
I try not to feel too smug, or shamelessly horny.
She keeps up the relentless chatter as we pass through the streets, stopping every few blocks to greet someone else.
Somehow, she always knows the locals from the tourists—and their faces must be branded into her brain. She greets the townspeople by memory.
It usually takes them a second to recognize her.
Odd how much she must’ve changed since she was a little girl, while this town stayed frozen in time.
But the second they place her or hear the name Blackthorn, they start treating her like she’s a celebrity.
Sometimes their curious gazes land on me, but few people ask.
Margot basks in the attention, drinking it in. But I think it’s more for their benefit than her own ego.
Guess it’s expected from a place that clearly revered Leonidas Blackthorn.
But did the old man have any enemies?
That question lingers on my mind.
It’s rare for a billionaire real estate mogul who lived like a king to win nothing but respect. People are petty as hell, jealous by nature, and in all his years, he likely stepped on a few toes to keep his empire.
Still, no one mentions anything out of the ordinary.
After we’ve trotted through the town’s main drag on our horses, we stop by a park and what looks like another pop-up market.
Is every little town this spontaneous or are they just showing off?
Then I get a good whiff of the food from a couple nearby food trucks, and my skepticism dies on the spot.
Seafood.
Lobster rolls, fried clam strips, and crabcakes spritzed with lemon.
My stomach growls like a lion, a reminder that we haven’t eaten since breakfast.
Dan pulls his pony to a halt, sliding off the saddle like he was born for it.
The pony bends down and starts grazing on grass, unbothered by the laughing crowd swarming around, taking advantage of the unseasonably warm day.
“We can stop here, right, Dad?” he asks.
“Yeah. Good place to take a breather.” I swing my leg up and over from behind Margot, sliding to the ground before I extend a hand to her. “You good?”
Her eyes flick from my face to the hand I’m holding out and she smiles. “Thanks. Such a gentleman.”
“I’ve got you.”
Her face shines as she takes my hand and lets me help her down.
I’m so relentlessly fucked.
Dan does the same with Sophie like the good brother I raised him to be, and I take the reins in my hand.
By the looks of it, these guys won’t go far if we keep them in view, but better safe than sorry. I tie them to the nearby fence next to a horse rest area.
My stomach rumbles again as Margot steps back, her smile widening before she turns to the kids.
“Okay, you’re starving. Lunch is on me! What are you hungry for?”
“Lobster roll,” I say immediately.
Sophie laughs, covering her face.
“Dad loves lobster,” she explains.
“Fresh lobster,” I correct sharply. “None of that rubbery crap that’s been on ice for days. Always in butter. No mayo.”
When I inhale the heavenly smell in the air, I swear I can almost taste it.
“Noted,” Margot says. “How about you kidlets?”
Sophie casts another vote for lobster, and Dan opts for a plain old cheeseburger. One day I’ll teach that boy good taste and opportunity.
I untie our rides while they grab the food. The horse and ponies follow me peacefully as we lead them between the stalls.