Chapter Eight
MOLLIE
D efiantly, I stare at him, unable to back down, wondering what he’s about to do next. Seeing him tumbling to the bottom of this pile of bales stirred something deep within. He’s human after all. I was stupidly worried he may have been hurt.
Two whole weeks have passed since I last saw him. Quite frankly, it’s been a welcomed break. I’ve gotten closer to Mick and Janette, learned more about what I’m meant to be doing here. But I have no clue how to handle the raging monster before me. I don’t know what I’m doing, nor do I know what his problem is.
When he unexpectedly showed up and witnessed my accident with Blackjack, I thought we might have gotten the chance to talk. I’m an idiot, though. I can see that now. I let myself believe that his moment of intimacy on the sofa was something more than it actually was. Maybe I just wanted more? Saw something that was never there. Either way, as soon as the moment came, it was gone.
I don’t know what it is, but everything I do only seems to make him angry. So, so angry . Admittedly, I did incite trouble the night I went with him to Dean’s homecoming, and after my night with Henry, I have finally accepted there is something pulling me toward him.
I shouldn’t feel it. He isn’t like any man I should feel attracted to. But as he heaves another heavy breath in my face, I try to gain space. Try to hide the way my stomach flutters and my head turns dizzy.
“For fuck’s sake, stop stepping back.” His face is red. His voice sounds clipped. He looks like a giant this high up.
“You’re mad? ”
“Mad? I’m fucking furious,” he says.
I pause, watching the way his chest rises and falls. “I can see.”
His luscious lips pull into a straight line. He looks deadly. “One more smart comment and I’ll—”
“You’ll what?”
He stares at me, mentally deciding how he’s going to kill me. “Last chance, or over the edge you go.”
Every fibre of my being wants to challenge his dramatic threat. I won’t. I can tell by the angry lines on his head that he is fuming. We’re up pretty high and I have a bad foot. Come to think of it, it is really starting to ache. Painkillers must be wearing off already. Peering over my shoulder, I chance a look down. I’m not entirely sure why I pushed myself to climb up here to be honest. I guess the feeling of being a waste of space crept into my mind. I’m happy with working hard. Have no issues with it.
It was sitting still thinking about him that was the hardest.
“Care to explain what the fuck you’re doing up here when you should be resting?” His eyes flick down to my bad foot now raised so only my toes are touching the hay.
“Mick said he thought there were rats.”
Travis closes his eyes with a mild shake of his head. “So you decided to climb to the very top, with a fucking pitchfork, and do what? Poke ‘em out?”
“It doesn’t matter.” I go to turn.
“You can’t get down there. You can’t even put weight on your foot.”
“I got up here just fine,” I snap. “And I wasn’t the one who fell,” I add under my breath.
“God, you’re such a brat.”
I freeze halfway to sitting on the edge of a bale, ready to lower myself to the next. “Any tips on how I should do this?” I can’t help myself. I turn to look at him behind me as I lower, wanting to provoke him the way he does me. “Should I just throw myself straight over the edge, or roll my way to the bottom?”
If he were a cartoon, I’m pretty sure his eyes would be bulging and his ears would be spitting out steam. He turns, picks up a bale in a fit of rage, lifts it above his head like it’s the easiest thing to do, then tosses it over the edge, sending it falling nine meters to the ground.
I shrink, watching the veins bulge in his neck .
Then he’s behind me again, hauling me to my good foot, his hand underneath my arm.
I cry out, feeling my mind scatter as my breath suddenly runs wild. I grab his arm to steady myself, my body swaying slightly from the height and the feel of my skin on his. There’s no denying the current of desire that jolts up my arm, causing my spine to tingle. I try to stand straighter. Try to give off the illusion that he has no effect on me.
It’s not true.
He might have fell, but I’m definitely the one falling.
He pulls me closer to him, my front pressing up against his.
The air flees my lungs, and I’m left gasping as I say his name. “Travis.” My heavy, hot breath hits his chest, and I look up, seeing his deadly eyes fixed on me.
I go to speak again, but he cuts me off, pressing his lips to mine.
What the hell? My body instantly stiffens, confused by his actions. This is stupid. He’s made it abundantly clear that he can’t spend more than five minutes around me without feeling the urge to kill me. Now he’s kissing me? I’m so confused. I want to push him away for being so all over the place. For telling me one thing then doing another.
But his kiss. The way he moves so slowly. I don’t know what to do. He’s tender, his lips barely moving. I feel his fingers spread against my back as he pulls me even closer.
I roll into him, lust and desire buzzing between the two of us. I can feel it. Can feel every inch of my skin starting to awaken. My muscles that were being tightly held start to loosen, my feet melting further into the soft surface underneath as I give in to him.
It’s like he’s waiting. Waiting for me to do something. Does he need my permission? It’s like he’s expecting me to push him away. Reject him. Give him a reason to hate me. Or, is he like me? Has he thought about this moment like I have, over and over? Has he tortured himself, wondering what this would feel like?
Our first kiss.
One thing’s for sure, I hadn’t expected him to be so… gentle. He feels attentive. Calm. The complete opposite of how he was only moments ago. “Tell me to stop.” His words vibrate against my lips. The telling rise and fall of his chest showing me he’s much calmer on the surface than he is on the in side.
I don’t think I can. “Travis,” I merely whimper, losing my breath.
He lets out a gravelly sigh, his lips lingering between every kiss. “You need to tell me to stop, Mollie.”
Still mouth to mouth but millimetres apart, I bite my bottom lip, my teeth sinking into the flesh. I don’t want him to stop. I don’t think he wants me to either.
“Fuck,” he growls. “Don’t do that.”
“Why?” I falter, looking at his lips, wanting to taste them again, my brain racing with what we’re doing. What are we doing here?
“Why?” he asks questioningly, sucking in a breath.
I look up, seeing his eyes jumping between mine. They no longer look at me with contempt or anger. No. Now they look full of something I’ve not seen before on him. Hope?
A flash of satisfaction swims across his features before his hands lift to cup the sides of my face, making all sorts of feelings bounce around inside me. “Because this can only lead to chaos.”
Chaos? Is that what we are? Staring up at him, my hand on his arm tightens. I try to read what his body’s telling me. Try to gauge if this moment of madness is real or if I’m somehow dreaming with my eyes open.
As if in answer, his fingers slide into the back of my hair, effectively holding me still. He goes to speak, but abruptly slams his mouth closed.
“Travis?”
We both freeze hearing Mick shout.
I look up at him, suddenly breathing heavy, my heart hammering in my chest. “Shit,” I say quietly.
Travis spins me, pushing me back out of sight. “What?” he shouts down to Mick, his eyes still fixed to mine.
“Where are you?” Mick hollers again, his footsteps edging closer.
I don’t move.
“Up here,” Travis says, as he grabs for the pitchfork I carried up here and steps down onto the next hay bale. “Mollie said about the rats.”
There’s a definite pause before Mick replies. “Right. Well, where is she?”
My breathing quickens.
“Bathroom, I think. She asked me to take over.”
Another silence. “And you did? ”
I hear Travis let loose a breath, seeing his body stiffen slightly. “What you getting at, Mick?”
“Nothing, boy. Get down here. Blackjack’s gone into labour. I need to find Mollie; she’s supposed to be helping me.”
I hear Mick’s feet padding away, and when I deem it safe enough, I make my way to Travis, taking tentative steps. “That was close.”
Travis turns, looking at me, burning flames flickering in his eyes. They cut like knives as he scratches at the hat on his head before letting out a sigh. Defeated. “That was a mistake.”
Rooted to my spot, I wasn’t expecting him to say that. He kissed me after threatening to push me over the edge. I’m so confused. This isn’t what I expected to happen. Wanted, yes, but did I think it would actually happen—him and me? Never. My vision blurs and it isn’t welcomed. At all.
Chaos . Maybe he’s right.
My chin drops to my chest as I quickly fight the weak part of my brain. The part getting upset by his rejection. I don’t know him. He doesn’t owe me anything. This is stupid. So, so stupid. If I want this job, to prove I can be something more than what is expected of me, then I need to suck it up. Rein in these emotions that are overriding me.
Mear seconds away from my resolve tearing, like a power cut directly to my heart, I’m all out of fight. The need to challenge, completely dissipates. My ears ring with realisation and perhaps frustration. I almost blew it all, and for what?
Chaos.
My tongue ties in knots, no words coming to me. So, I do what I know best. Get myself out of the situation. I turn without giving him eye contact, lower myself so I’m sitting, then lower again to the next bale, my foot now irritatingly burning in agony.
Travis doesn’t say anything as I leave. Doesn’t even try to stop me. My heart hammers so loud, I’m pretty sure he must be able to hear it as I drop out of his sight.
Once at the bottom, I limp my way to the stable, holding back my tears and finding Mick watching Blackjack with hopeful eyes.
“There you are,” he says, slightly wary, his eyes looking down. “Your foot alright?”
I nod, swallowing, my lips stretching to a forced smile. “Yeah. It’s fine.” His gaze stays on me a fraction too long. He knows something’s up. “I promise. I’m fine. I just need more painkillers, that’s all.”
“Right.” He looks back at Blackjack when she whinnies, snorting out a breath.
I take a step closer, happy for the distraction. “How’s she doing?”
“She’s my champion. Got it all under control.”
I smile. “How long does it take?”
Mick smiles then. “Each mare is different. She looks like she’s just started contracting, so two, maybe three hours before she starts to deliver. We just need to observe her. Fortunately for us, she knows what to do.”
I let out a sigh of air, forcing Mick to look at me. “I wonder how she knows?” I don’t look away from Blackjack. So calm. So in control.
A small, welcomed silence ensues before Mick speaks. “Basic instinct,” he starts. “This is her young. She’ll do whatever it takes to make sure he’s safe. I have every faith that she’ll let me know if something’s wrong.”
I pause. “What happens if it goes wrong?” My eyes eventually meet his.
He reads my face, silently watching me. “Then we step in.” He pushes away from the stable door. “Tea?”
I fold my arms, resting them on the door, my chin landing on my arm. “Please.” I watch Blackjack, seeing her in discomfort, but seeing her taking it in her stride. “Did we call the vet?”
Mick nods. “He’s on standby.”
I relax, watching her with awe.
“She’ll be fine.” Mick pats my shoulder as he walks past me. “Keep an eye on her.”
And I do just that. Grateful for the peace. Grateful for the distraction.