Chapter 5
Five
Baylor
Closing my laptop, I slide my chair back from my desk, stand, and stretch out my arms. I used to sit at my desk for a minimum of eight hours, but now that I’m home, I’m itching to get outside and breathe in some country air.
Ellison had the books in order, so really, there’s not a lot for me to do. Daily entries and invoices. My older sister just hated numbers, and it took her longer because she grumbled about it. I wasn’t even here, and I know that’s what happened.
Either way, I’m home. I’m in the small office next to hers, and it’s just after ten in the morning, and my work here is done.
This is my first week back at the inn, and I feel guilty for the fact that I’m not bogged down with work.
Then again, now that I’ve taken the books from Ellison, all four of us tend to be done with our work at a decent time. No more late nights or dinners alone.
It feels good to be home.
I arrived back in town last Saturday, and I keep waiting for the guilt to hit me.
I assumed I’d be swamped with regret, but there is none.
The weight I’ve been carrying on my shoulders for far too long is gone, and in its place is contentment.
Something I haven’t felt in far longer than I care to admit.
Grabbing my phone, I head out of my office.
Ellison is working from home with her feet propped up, so I’ll go check on her and see if she needs anything.
But first, I’m going to swing by the kitchen, say hi to Alice, grab a few carrots, and go see the horses.
Outside of my sisters, the horses are what I’ve missed the most.
When I was younger, I fell in love with them, and then even more when my crush on Macklin presented itself. He was always around horses, and that’s probably a big part of the reason I crushed on him. He always seemed larger than life and fearless to be able to get on the back of those bulls.
Teenage Baylor would have been freaking out if she were locked in an embrace with Macklin McBride like I was last Sunday night. If I close my eyes, I can still feel his calloused hands as he traced small patterns on my back. This, of course, was after he tickled me where I almost pissed my pants.
Macklin is a flirt, always has been, at least where I’m concerned.
I went off to college, and my crush faded.
Then I moved to New York, met Todd, and, well, now here I am.
I may not have my old teenage crush, but I’m also not blind.
Macklin is sexy, and even though I know he was just flirting, it’s hard not to wonder what my life might have looked like had I stayed here in Magnolia Ridge.
Would I have ended up with a man like him?
Charming, sexy, and everything the old me thought I needed to run from?
“There she is,” Alice says as soon as I step into the kitchen.
My grin is immediate. “Hey, Alice. Something smells good,” I tell her.
“I’m making potato soup and grilled cheese for lunch. I have apple fritters for dessert. You want one now?”
“Tempting, but no. I came for a few carrots.”
“Ah, going to visit the horses.” She smiles kindly. “There’s a bunch that was just delivered with our order this morning. Help yourself.” She nods to the crates of produce.
“I don’t want to leave you short,” I tell her.
She shakes her head and grins. “Girl, I knew you were home, and you’d be sneaking in here. I ordered extra. Go on, grab yourself a bunch, and don’t forget your coat,” she says, before turning to get back to work on stirring the soup.
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, my voice cracking. Alice has worked here for as long as I can remember, and I’ve missed her. Apparently, I was more homesick than I thought.
Rushing back to my office, I slip into my coat to ward off the chilly Tennessee December winds and rush outside to the stables with my bundle of carrots in hand.
I’ve been out here to visit every day since I’ve been back—well, minus the first couple of days.
That was a busy weekend. But every day since last Monday, I’ve been to the stables to visit, and it’s been good for my soul.
Pulling open the door, I step inside and move toward the first stall.
“Hey, there, Buckwheat,” I say calmly, and the light tan with dark brown mane horse comes trotting over.
“I missed you, boy.” I rub my hand over his mane.
Buckwheat is a gelding, which means he’s been fixed, and he’s one of the gentlest trail horses we have on the estate. He was ours when we were kids.
He sniffs toward the carrots, trying to grab one, and I laugh, pulling them out of his reach. “You have to be good if you want a treat.”
“I’ll be good,” a deep timbre says from behind me. I startle and whip around so fast that I lose my balance, and Macklin rushes to catch me, bracing his hands on my hips from behind.
“Easy, sweetheart,” he says, his voice low and husky, and it sends a shiver down my spine.
“You scared me,” I say, stepping forward and out of his hold. I pull in a deep breath and slowly exhale before turning to face him.
“I didn’t mean to. I was just coming to check on the horses. We have a ride scheduled this afternoon.”
“That’s right. You’re managing the stables. I’ve been out here every day and haven’t seen you.” My words almost sound like an accusation, but it’s not. I mean, I don’t need to know his schedule or anything.
“I usually come out early in the mornings, muck the stalls, and get them food and water before going back to my place to do the same.”
“You still have horses at your place?”
He nods. “Yeah, I’ve been doing some training. That’s kind of my side hustle, I guess, outside of managing the stables here. All of these horses are mine. Well, except for this guy. He’s always been yours.”
“We used to fight over him.” I laugh as I turn to Buckwheat and run my hands over his mane again.
“I was a brat demanding to our parents and my sisters that he was all mine. He loved me more, didn’t you, boy?
” I ask Buckwheat. His nose nudges me, but it’s not because he’s agreeing with me. He just wants my carrots.
“You think I could take him?” Macklin asks.
“What?” I ask, turning to look at him.
“You said he was yours, but I think I can give him some competition.” His green eyes sparkle with mirth.
My heart kicks up its rhythm. “What? You think you want to be mine, too?” I tease him, averting my gaze back to Buckwheat.
“I do.” He steps closer, and I can feel his hot breath against my cheek, but I keep my eyes on Buckwheat. “What do you think, boy? You ready to fight for our girl here?” he asks the horse.
Macklin lifts his hand to pet the horse, while the other moves to rest against my back. Even through the layers of my heavy winter coat and the sweater I’m wearing, I swear I can feel his warmth.
“If you’re trying to cheer me up from my breakup, you don’t have to. I’m fine.”
“Are you?” he asks, turning his gaze back to me.
This time, I turn to look at him. “I really am. It was a long time coming. If anything, I’m pissed at myself for not breaking things off sooner.”
“You dodged a bullet, and now you’re back home where you’re supposed to be.”
“You think so?” I ask, feeling vulnerable, because I still have a sense of being a little out of place.
It’s weird to feel like you’re home and like you’re the outcast all at once.
I know that’s just from being out of the loop, outside of daily phone calls.
My sisters included me in their lives as much as possible, but it’s nothing like being here, living it with them.
“I do,” he tells me. “It would have been pretty damn hard to make you fall in love with me while you were living in New York with him.”
I can’t help it. I toss my head back in laughter. It’s part disbelief and part nervousness, because while he’s smirking, there’s still a seriousness to his tone that I’ve never heard before. “I think I’m all set on relationships for a while,” I tell him, once my laughter subsides.
“That’s fine,” he says, his hand sliding around to my hip, pulling me into his chest. “As long as I’m the one who gets the first shot once you’re ready,” he replies huskily.
“Come on now,” I say, laughing and stepping out of his hold. I’m well aware that he let me get away because his grip was firm.
Macklin holds his hand out to me, as if asking me to shake on it. “Do we have a deal, Baylor?”
I freeze. “You can’t be serious.”
“Trust me, beautiful, this is very serious.”
I shake my head, reaching down to pinch my thigh. “Ouch,” I yelp at the pain.
“Don’t do that.” Macklin once again steps in close, invading my space and all my senses. “Why would you hurt yourself?” he asks, moving his hand to my thigh to massage the area I just pinched.
“To wake up from this dream.”
“Aw, do you dream about me, sweet Baylor?” he coos.
“Stop.” I laugh again, because what else can I do? This is not at all what I was expecting when I came out to visit the stables this morning.
“You have to promise me,” he says, his hand still lightly massaging my thigh.
“W-What? What am I promising?”
His grin grows. “That I get the first shot.”
“First shot, right.” I nod, but I’m having trouble keeping up with his hands on me. “First shot,” I say again.
“First shot at making this mine,” he says, placing his free hand over my heart. There are layers of clothing between us, but I swear, my heart is pounding so hard, he can surely feel it.
“You want my heart?”
“It’s only fair, since you have mine,” he counters.
“Macklin, what’s going on?” I ask, because this conversation is turning my world on its axis. There’s a thirteen-year-old girl inside me who used to make him and the guys friendship bracelets. The same girl who used to write Mrs. Macklin McBride in her diary wants this to be real.
Then, there’s the thirty-year-old woman, who knows that this is not really happening. But this dream feels so real. The pain in my thigh feels real. His touch feels real.