Chapter 12
The sound of a trailer pulling up the drive sends me sprinting through the house. This is a day I’ve been waiting for since I was ten years old. No matter how much I argued I was responsible enough to handle it, my parents always said no.
The truth is, they fought me tooth and nail this time too, but it wasn’t really their choice considering I didn’t buy them for the inn and they signed over the use of the original house and barn to me.
They didn’t get a say in it this time.
I wanted horses, and I’m finally getting some.
Selfishly, I’m hoping they’ll see first-hand how many amazing opportunities can open up for the inn if we have horses available to guests.
I know there’s a lot of liability and safety concerns to having them, but I think the value far outweighs the risks.
I just need to prove that to my parents, and proving them wrong about one aspect will hopefully help me prove them wrong in others.
“Someone’s going to hurt themselves if they keep hurtling around the place like that,” Beckett calls from his front porch as I jump down the last few steps of mine.
“I can’t stop, I’m too excited,” I shout, barely slowing down as the truck pulls to a stop.
Beckett’s laughter rings out and the sound washes over me.
A week since he arrived.
Seven days straight of seeing and talking to him. And now two days of him being in my home.
I have no one to blame but myself. I didn’t have to offer him my piano. He never needed to know about it, but for some reason I opened my mouth and gave up the last bit of solitude I had.
Two days trying to figure out what I was thinking, and I still have absolutely no idea.
What’s worse is I’ve managed to be out of the house any time he’s come over to play, and yet he’s there even when he isn’t. His woodsy, masculine scent lingers hours after he’s gone and little origami flowers are left by the coffee maker every time he leaves.
I tried to throw out the first one after I found it, but I only made it a few steps away from the trash before I had to turn around and retrieve it. Instead they now sit in a pile on top of my dresser, catching my eye every time I’m in my room.
I still get goose bumps when he looks at me…or talks to me…or laughs…or simply breathes in my presence.
It’s unnatural the way I feel around him, but that doesn’t stop me from spending more and more time with Beckett Stone.
I spent ten years with a man I thought I loved with all my heart and after seven days with this one—not having one encounter remotely close to romantic—I’m realizing I couldn’t have been more wrong about my feelings for Mark.
But if I was wrong about ten years with one man, how can I trust anything about what I’m feeling around this one?
And it’s only been seven days! It’s insane I’m thinking about any of this.
Besides, he’s leaving at the start of spring. There’s no point thinking about him as anything other than a friend.
Truthfully, that’s probably for the best.
“I don’t think I realized how excited you were when you talked about the horses arriving earlier this week.” Beckett steps up to my side, his arms banded across his chest.
“I don’t know if I let it show,” I say, glancing up at him. “I’ve learned not to get my hopes up about these things. It’s less of a letdown when they fall through.”
He nods, his eyes tracking the driver as he turns off the truck. “You’ve tried to get horses before?”
“Not horses, no. But other things I was excited to introduce to the inn and started the process but had to stop for one reason or another.”
I know Beckett wants to ask more, but the driver steps out of the truck and our conversation is put on hold.
Something I’m hoping he’ll forget about so we don’t have to continue talking about it.
While I’ve grown to enjoy my talks with Beckett over the last week, I don’t like talking about all the things I’ve failed to implement at the inn.
Most of those come down to things my parents decided weren’t the right fit or it wasn’t the right time, and I’m tired of giving those thoughts any of my energy.
I may not have done everything I set out to do when I first started managing the place, but I’ve done a lot and every single thing is something I can be proud of. Something I know my parents are proud of too.
“All right, Mads,” Noah, the owner of the rescue, says as he walks toward Beckett and me, his attention focused on the clipboard in his hand. “Where are these beauties going?”
“I’ve got the stalls set up in the barn behind the house. Do you want to drive the trailer over there?” I ask, wanting to make sure this move is as free of stress as possible for these horses.
Adopting this mama and her three-year-old colt from a rescue may not have been the smartest idea for my first horses to own, but it’s what felt like the best fit for me. I needed to feel like I was giving animals a safe and comforting space, a home worth living in.
The rescue would never let these horses move somewhere new if they weren’t ready. They spend months, sometimes up to a year, working with a horse before they’ll even start looking for a new home for them.
In my bones, I knew I was doing right by these two, and that could never be wrong.
“No, it’ll be good for them to stretch their legs a bit on the walk over.” Noah tosses the clipboard into the truck before moving toward the back of the trailer, and I don’t even try to stop myself from bouncing on my toes.
The chuckle from Beckett doesn’t faze me. I’d probably laugh at him if the roles were reversed. As a matter of fact, the roles were reversed yesterday when his head of security showed up with a couple of his instruments.
I wasn’t close enough to hear the exchange, but it was hard to miss the joy on his face, even from where I was by the paddock.
“Have you owned horses before?” Beckett asks, laughter coating his voice.
“No, but I worked at the rescue these horses came from a few towns over one summer and fell in love with them.”
There’s so much more I could say about that summer, but my words are trapped in my throat at the sight of the speckled Appaloosa that steps out of the trailer. She’s everything I remember from when I visited the rescue last month and I can’t wait to get her and her son settled.
“You want to guide Meadow and I’ll take care of Oakley,” Noah asks, a smile stretching across his lips when he sees my excitement.
It’s a conscious effort not to rush over to Noah and the beautiful mare. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves before gently making my way over to the two of them.
I extend my hand, waiting for Meadow to make the next move, and the moment she nudges her hand against mine, tears well in my eyes.
“Whoa,” Noah blurts. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry.” His words are soft, but that doesn’t stop the tears from slipping free.
The thing is, Noah’s not wrong.
I may have only spent one summer working with him at the rescue, but I never stopped visiting the place, not when it was the only way I got to interact with horses. And over that summer and all those subsequent visits, Noah and I became good friends.
He’s probably one of the very few people who know me as well as my family does. One of the few people who’ve stayed in my life through my obsession with my family’s land.
Noah’s never seen me cry because I don’t cry.
It’s one of the things I both love and hate about myself—my inability to show my emotions freely.
I still wonder if I were more open if Mark and I would still be together.
Or would the friends I made in college still be in my life.
Would I be more open to leaving this land and this town.
But then again…five days ago, I was crying in front of Beckett, a man I barely know. Something that normally would have me running in the other direction, but not only did I stay and learn more about him, I invited him farther into my space.
“I don’t know what’s going on with me lately,” I whisper, wiping at my cheeks.
The smile that stretches across my lips isn’t necessarily forced—I’m ecstatic about Meadow’s reaction to me and I can’t wait to build more of a bond with her, but I hate that the tears showed up so easily.
When did I become so emotional?
“Hey.” Beckett’s gentle voice sounds from behind me before his hand brushes the small of my back. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good.” It takes effort not to melt into Beckett’s touch. Instead of pulling away, upset with myself for wanting his comfort, I turn to make sure he can see the honesty in my eyes and the appreciation for his concern.
When I look back at Noah, his gaze bounces between Beckett and me, shock and curiosity etched across his features.
I’m not a mind reader, but I imagine he’s wondering how the hell Beckett Stone ended up here in Stonebridge Hollow and how the two of us are connected.
But Noah being the good friend he is doesn’t voice any of the thoughts in his mind.
He doesn’t even address the fact that The Beckett Stone is standing next to me.
Giving Noah an out, I introduce the two men. “Beckett, this is Noah, the owner of the horse rescue.”
“Nice to meet you, Noah. I’m Beckett Stone.” He extends his hand, a warm smile stretched across his lips.
“Yeah, I was going to pretend I didn’t know that, but…” His words trail off with a sheepish shrug, and I don’t try to stop the small laugh that escapes.
“I swear, I’m the only person who doesn’t know you,” I murmur in mock annoyance. At this point, I find it more comical than anything else.
Of course I would have this unexplainable attraction to a man the majority of the world knows. A man who could have anyone and anything he wants.
“You don’t know who he is?” Noah’s shock grows tenfold at the question and I know I should really stop being surprised by people’s reaction to the news.
“Well, I mean, obviously I know him, he’s standing right here and has been staying in Millie’s Cottage for the last week.”
“Mads, I know you don’t really pay attention to newer stuff, but this one seriously surprises me. Beckett’s music is right up your alley.”
“Is it?” Beckett asks. “Madison made it out to sound like she only listens to the oldies.”
“Oh, she does, but some of her favorites are Johnny Cash, James Taylor, and Simon and Garfunkel. And you can’t deny you have a very similar sound to them. I’m pretty sure I saw an interview where you said you were heavily inspired by Cash and Taylor.”
“You’d be right about my inspiration, but I don’t know if I’d go so far to say I’m anywhere close to sounding like them, but I appreciate the comparison.” Beckett squeezes the back of his neck, a slight blush coloring his cheeks.
Part of me is surprised by the discomfort Beckett clearly feels when he receives a compliment. Considering how big of a celebrity he is, I’d think it’s something he’s more than used to. I mean, you don’t make it as big as he has without having some serious talent—or at least, you shouldn’t.
But even only knowing a little bit about him, the other part of me isn’t surprised at all. Beckett is one of the most down-to-earth people I’ve ever known. Even with all the fame, he doesn’t seem to think he deserves the recognition he gets. And it makes me want to look him up all the more.
Meadow nudges at my arm, reminding me exactly what Noah’s doing here, and I have to put my itch to learn more about Beckett on hold.
Taking the lead from Noah, I rub at Meadow’s forehead, the smile stretching across my lips so wide I know my cheeks will ache later.
“She’s a beauty,” Beckett offers, reaching out to Meadow, pausing before he actually touches her, letting her take the lead. It’s only a few moments before Meadow nudges at his hand, causing another bout of tears to form.
“You know how to work with horses?” I ask, forcing my emotions down. I’ve cried more than enough in the last week; I don’t need to cry more.
“Not really. Just following your lead.”
The words are so simple, yet they mean more than he could possibly know. There aren’t many people in my life who are willing to follow my lead, no questions asked. To have someone who doesn’t know me well, offer me that kind of trust and support is new.
But there’s no time to explore that feeling before Noah is stepping out of the trailer, leading the beautiful chestnut colt with a blanket of white hair on his rump showcasing a few light brown flecks I know will only grow more numerous as he gets older.
All thoughts of the man beside me fade away, and all my attention is set on getting these beautiful animals settled in their new home.
“Lead the way, Mads.” Noah smiles, and I do just that.