Chapter 12
Eli
Luke barged through the double glass doors into the den. He flipped his hair to the side, crossed his arms over the band logo on his black shirt, and stared at me from the other side of the coffee table.
Perfect timing.
I dropped a stack of papers on the table. “What’s up, Luke?”
“That yuppie horse lady has her kid with her.”
I stood, regarding him. His thumbs poked out of holes in his long-sleeve shirt. “Ava?”
“Yeah. Whatever. She’s being, like, super bossy and asking stupid questions.”
“She’s supposed to. You’re training her.”
“No! Like weird ones. Like what I drink and stuff!”
I grabbed my hat off the blue couch and shoved it on my head. That did seem like a weird question. “Did you get through the checklist?”
Luke threw his skinny arms out. “No! ’Cause she’s stopping me every time I do anything and–”
“Okay. Okay.” I raised a hand to stop him. “I’ll talk to her.”
Luke had a big heart and a hair trigger. I’d hired him, hoping to boost his confidence so he’d make better choices. I figured teaching Ava the ropes would inflate the kid’s ego. Apparently not.
Marley strutted out of her room all made-up, looking too old for her own good. A sweet-smelling cloud followed her. Great, just what I need. Luke flipped his hair again, clicking his tongue piercing against his teeth. These two were gonna give me gray hair.
Marley gave Luke a head tilt and a “hey.” Then, in almost non-existent shorts, she jogged up the stairs.
“Hey, Mar,” I called. “You gonna put some clothes on?”
She gave me the finger, then strutted out of sight.
I didn’t know what to do with her. Luke’s focus stayed on the steps long after she’d gone. I’d already warned the kid that Marley was trouble. Too late, I realized that was half the draw.
I ran a hand over my chin, staring at the lust-struck teen. He did better solo. Which meant I needed something else for Ava to do. My eyes dropped to the stacks of papers on the coffee table. A mess like that needed a professional. Someone organized and smart. Someone who used to work in an office.
I lifted my hat and reseated it. “Hang here,” I said. “I’ll be back.” It was perfect. Luke would get his barn back, and the paperwork might actually get done.
I jogged down to the barn, stopping in the empty aisle between the pens. “Ava?”
A clink in the tack stall snagged my attention. I walked to the end of the row, ready to defend Luke and deliver new instructions.
Only, the second I saw her, my mind turned blanker than Dad’s staff roster.
The boots. That’s what did me in. Suddenly, she looked like she was made to wear dust and horse hair.
Born to squeeze those jean-clad thighs around a horse.
Not afraid to end the day–or night–coated in grit or sweat. Maybe even my sweat.
I shook my head to clear those thoughts.
Ava was tying Nina’s shoe, so she didn’t notice me standing there, gaping like an idiot. Her hair hung in a long ponytail over one shoulder as she bent and recited a rhyme. “Bunny ears, bunny ears, playing by the tree–” She looked up. “Oh. Hey.”
“You … changed.”
She straightened, tightening her ponytail. “Yes. I do it every morning.”
In that moment, I had to agree with every stereotype I’d heard about barns. I was a horny teenager again. And I couldn’t stop staring.
She glanced down at herself. “Do I have something on my–”
“No. Sorry. Uh …” I flexed the bill of my hat. “Nice boots.”
“Thanks! They’re–” She did a double take of her kid’s hair. “No! Nina! That’s for horses!”
Her toddler tugged at the handle of a horse brush, but her hair wrapped around it like Cthulhu had its prized ship.
Sighing, Ava dropped to her knees and started extracting one dark tentacle at a time. “I’m guessing you’re here to talk about Luke?”
“Yeah.” I shoved my hands into my pockets. “I’m sure you didn’t mean anything by it, but–”
Nina screeched and lunged away, wrapping her fingers over the brush and hair.
Ava reached for her. “Nina, let go!”
“No!”
“It’s stuck in your hair.”
“No!”
“You can argue till you’re blue, but that doesn’t make it true.
” She wrapped an arm around the kid like a seatbelt and freed tangles with her other hand, grunting as an elbow landed in her stomach.
“Next time I’m braiding your hair.” She yanked the brush free and stood before Nina could get it from her.
A full-on tantrum exploded.
Ava inhaled and turned to me, holding the brush over her head. “I’m sorry. What were you saying?”
My eyes jumped between the two, then stuck on the hysterical kid rolling around in the dirt. “I, uh–I wanted to talk about Luke.”
“Is this about the oats?” she asked.
“Oats?”
“Luke was feeding the horses way too many oats.”
I opened my mouth, but didn’t know what to say. “Too many oats?”
Nina’s volume escalated. I stepped aside to avoid a kick in the shin.
“All I said,” Ava half shouted, “was it’s like drinking a Red Bull, then being told to sit still all day. Sugar is already twitchy. And she hasn’t left her stall since we’ve been here.”
Stubble chafed under my nails as I scratched my cheek.
Good point.
“Thing is, Luke’s a little sensitive. And him being here is keeping him from being somewhere he shouldn’t.”
She nodded, and I figured, being a mom, she understood. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to make things difficult for you.” Her eyes cut to her screaming, sweaty kid. “Nina, enough!”
The heat always made me crabby. Maybe bringing them indoors would help? “Listen, I think Luke needs space.” I moved closer so I wouldn’t have to yell, and Ava’s fruity shampoo had me losing track of the conversation.
She blinked at me. “Space?”
“Yeah.” Right. Focus, Eli. “I have a different job for you. One that’s not in the barn.”
“Stable.”
“What?”
“It’s not a barn,” she said. “Barns have walls.
“Really?”
“Whatever.” Ava put the horse brush on a shelf above Nina’s reach. “Just tell me what you want me to do.” She didn’t sound so thrilled, and she clearly had her hands full.
I hesitated. “I’ve got paperwork that needs going through.”
It was like watching a birthday balloon sink to the floor after the party. “Paperwork? Fine. Great.”
No. Not great. She hated it.
I took off my hat, repositioned it, shoved it back down. “It’s up at the house.”
Her eyes cut to Nina. “Can you just give me a few minutes?”
“Sure. Take as much time as you need.” She didn’t look at me again.
I trekked back to the house, feeling like the villain.
Like everyone was pissed at me. The pressure of this domestic trap closed in, and my fingers itched for the steering wheel.
I pushed my way through the glass doors into the den, tracking dust on the carpet.
How the hell was I supposed to know what to do?
I wasn’t a rancher. With all the papers back in the cardboard box Dad had given me, I stomped upstairs.
My frown sank into a scowl when I found Luke and Marley shoulder-to-shoulder at the kitchen table. The cord to a pair of earbuds hung between their heads.
I thumped the box onto the tabletop. “Break’s over.”
Luke stood slowly, returning Marley’s earbud with a chin-lift and a “Later.” The flirty fingers Marley waved back iced my irritation cake.
I waited until Luke left before leaning my hands onto the beat-up wood surface. “Mar, you gotta stop. Crap like that leads him on.”
“What am I doing?”
“Playing music for him? Those shorts? That look?”
“What look?”
“Don’t play dumb.”
“So, now I’m dumb?” She pushed off the bench. “Whatever! Look who’s talking!” She stormed back downstairs and slammed her door.
My hands tightened into fists. I should’ve been driving through canyons, windows open, The Eagles blasting, headed to my next short-term gig. But no. I was stuck here, pretending I knew what to do about everyone else’s problems.
Dad wandered into the kitchen and peeked into the box. “Ah, finally getting around to those. Remember: categorize, calendarize, prioritize.” He gave me a hearty pat on the back. “And good luck.”
“Thanks, but, not gonna need it. Ava’s got it covered.”
“Got what covered?”
“This.” I jerked my chin at the box.
“Eli–”
“What? She insisted on helping! It’s a perfect job for her.” Liar, and you know it.
Dad frowned. “I don’t want strangers privy to our finances.”
“First, you tell me to delegate! Now you’re saying only delegate the shit that doesn’t matter?”
“Everything matters, Eli. I just asked you to sort the invoices.”
“Oh, that’s it, huh? Have you looked in here, in oh, I dunno, the last decade?”
Dad’s expression hardened. This was turning into another Reese’s kind of day. “It’s not about easy or hard. I’m trying to give you tools.”
“I already have a set, thanks.”
Dad threw his hands up. “For crying out loud, you know that’s not what I meant.”
Why was I there? What did he want from me? “I’m fine. I don’t need your tools. I’m not begging for money, or blowing college funds on drugs and hookers.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” His sarcastic tone didn’t help my mood. “I just want you to stop running.”
“I’m not running.” The way he lifted his eyebrow pissed me off. “See my feet standing here? Do they look like they’re running?”
“Your mom’s death affected all of us.”
“God, Dad, just drop it! It’s hard enough being here in this hellhole.”
He got silent. Finally.
Ava should’ve been up by now. I crossed to the huge kitchen window, worrying she and Luke had another run-in. But I only saw one skinny, black-clad kid at the barn. Stable. Whatever. Where was she?
“Can I ask you something, son?”
“You can ask …”
“What are you going to do when your body can’t keep up? It doesn’t last forever, you know?”
Ava’s words messed with me. “… having a rough time with his arthritis.” My old man had hunched over drafting tables most of his life, ate donuts for breakfast, pulled all-nighters with a wooden pencil and a ruler. We were not the same. “I’ll be fine.”
Dad was shaking his head. “It doesn’t work by sheer will. Eventually, things wear out. You’re gonna want a home base. Someone to help take care of you. Of things. I’m telling you.”
“I’m not alone on the road.”
He scoffed. “You think Ryan will be any help?”
“There it is,” I mumbled.
“That kid is one bad choice after another. I don’t want him bringing you down.”
He didn’t care where I was, just who I was with. Dad always hated my best friend. We weren’t kids anymore. If I had problems, I had problems, but at least I didn’t drag him into them.
I caught movement out the window. Ava and Nina came out of the trailer and picked their way around the weeds to the house.
I glanced at Dad. “We done?”
He didn’t reply. But he also didn’t vacate the kitchen.
I met the girls at the front door. Nina appeared first, looking like a victim of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich attack. She had sticky globs all over her face, hands, and shirt.
“Don’t drop that,” Ava uttered, following her in. “Please go sit at the table.”
Peanut butter smeared the bench as Nina climbed up one-handed. Her legs dangled, and she hummed as she poked between the pieces of bread, then licked her finger. The same kid who’d been screaming over a horse brush.
“Okay,” Ava said, filling her lungs. “Where’s your paperwork?”
Eight-thirty, and Dad was putting another pod in the coffeepot. I ignored him and dragged the cardboard box down the table, out of Nina’s reach. “In here.”
Ava’s chin went down, and her eyebrows went up, and if I didn’t know better, I’d have thought she just swallowed a bee. Meanwhile, Nina swung her feet happily under the table.
I stared at the inside of the box. “It, uh, it needs to be sorted so we can balance the accounts.” Dad’s directive. Did it sound like I knew what I was talking about?
In gut-twisting slow motion, she drifted to my side and lifted a page from the top of the stack with long, delicate fingers. Her silence was killing me.
She pulled out another invoice and studied it. “Has this been paid?”
I didn’t have the ball bearings to look her in the eye. Glancing back at Dad was a worse mistake. If he cared so much, he should’ve done it. “Uh … I dunno,” I told her.
“It’s just one box, right?”
“Yeah.”
Ava ran a hand through her ponytail. It swayed, then settled on her back. If I’d ever had a chance with this woman, I was murdering it one stupid sheet of paper at a time.
“I’ll do my best,” she said. “But this is …” She stared at it like she wished she’d never met me, like looking at me made her wanna hurl.
At the other end of the table, Nina smooshed her bread together and licked the jelly that oozed out of the sides. I should’ve said something. Apologized, maybe.
My old man leaned against the counter, sipping his coffee, no help at all. One by one, Ava laid pages on the table. Making stacks, I realized. Invoices for supplies. Invoices for boarding.
I scrubbed a hand over my jaw. Categorizing. At this rate, she’d be there all day, taking her punishment in silence. Only, I’d never meant it like that.
She probably hated me.