Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
Winnie’s stomach lurched in surprise at the sight of Matthew. When was she going to stop being surprised by his sudden and frequent appearances? He did live at Foxwood. She knew that, right?
With two buckets in hand he moved toward her, his gaze downcast and muscles bulging from the sleeves of his t-shirt.
He didn’t notice her for a moment, so she took the opportunity to step away from his horse until he finally looked up at her.
Surprise registered across his features, and his footsteps slowed. “Hey,” he said hesitantly, looking between her and his horse.
She definitely should have left before now. What was she going to do one-on-one with the man? Would he mention the video call with her family? Or mention again how her ideas were all going to fail?
“Are you still working?” he asked, eying her laptop, papers, and tablet on the bench nearby.
“I was. But I just came in here to…” To what? Why had she come in there? To torture herself? To see if she really was Knox strong?
He waited for her response, but her mind continued to draw a blank.
“To…look at the horses?” he guessed, closing the distance between them and setting the buckets on the floor next to the stall.
“Yeah,” she said. She’d go with that. “Are you still working?”
He looked to the buckets he’d set down, one filled with water, the other with grooming supplies. “I guess you could call it that. But I don’t really consider grooming horses work. It’s more…”
“Therapy,” she finished aloud without thinking.
Their eyes met, and a strange light appeared in his. “Exactly.”
She knew the feeling well—brushing down horses as she thought through problems or simply practiced mindfulness. The shine on the black horse’s coat told her Matthew must come out for therapy often.
A horse nickered nearby, his chestnut head sticking out over the stall door down the aisle as he eyed Winnie and Matthew.
“Do you groom all of them?” she asked. “’Cause that one looks a little jealous.”
Matthew smiled, entering the stall of his own horse. “That’s Char’s horse, Prince. He’s jealous of everyone. But sadly, no, I don’t have the time. Their owners or the Birdwhistles take good care of them, though.”
Winnie paused. “Their owners?”
He secured the horse with a lead on either side of his halter, then reached for the buckets, hanging them on latches inside the roomy stall. “Most of the horses here are being boarded by members of the staff, residents of Grassington, and friends of my dad. We only own about a third of them.”
“I was wondering about that,” she said. “I just thought you guys really loved your horses.”
“We do. Just not that much.”
That same twinkling in his blue eyes from Sunday appeared now. Was that his way of showing that he was playing? Or was it a warning that he was going to embarrass her again ?
“Well, you guys are lucky,” she said, trying to keep the good mood going. She didn’t want to jinx it, but they’d actually been carrying on a civil conversation for the last few minutes. “I mean, that your family can share that love of horses.”
He studied her, his gaze remaining past the point of what she was comfortable with, purely because she knew another question was perched at the edge of his lips.
Whatever that question was, she was pretty sure she didn’t want to answer it. “And this one is obviously your horse,” she said, distracting them both.
Fortunately, he took her bait. “Yep, this is Nightshade.”
“I thought you would have gone for something more historical or knightly. Or something from Harry Potter.”
“I did toy with naming him Sirius—you know, Sirius Black —but Nightshade fit him better,” Matthew replied.
Sirius Black. She thought she recognized the name from the films, but she couldn’t be sure.
“Do you ride?” he asked.
“I did. When I was younger.”
“Ever had a horse of your own?” he asked, rummaging through the bucket beside him before pulling out a hoof pick.
Discomfort pressed at the bottom of her heart. “One. Once upon a time. She was a palomino. Goldilocks.”
She had been the most gorgeous horse Winnie had ever seen—even more so than the black ones she used to pine after. Creamy golden coat. Silvery mane and tail. White socks above her hooves and a white stripe down her nose. She had been tall, regal, majestic. Perfect.
“A clever name,” Matthew said.
“For a seven-year-old,” she returned.
“Do you still have her now?”
A twisting ache pierced her heart. “No, I lost her when I was seventeen.”
Matthew didn’t respond for a moment. “There’s nothing worse than saying goodbye to a horse that passes away. ”
Winnie nodded, though she couldn’t agree. There was something worse than that. What Dad did was much, much worse.
Winnie blinked, distracting herself from the past as she watched Matthew stroke Nightshade, rubbing his forelock and standing close to him. The bond between them was obvious. Matthew was gentle and affectionate, and his horse respected and trusted him in return.
She still found it hard to believe that this was Matthew she was standing by—the same Matthew she’d argued with a number of times, the same Matthew who’d teased her, the same Matthew she’d crushed with her unkindness.
Because right now, it was as if none of that had happened and they were speaking cordially, even friendly, like they had when they’d first met.
She could chalk it up to both of them being too exhausted to maintain their animosity that night. But it was more likely that the horses had something to do with it. They had a magic of their own.
“So, you know horses, then,” Matthew stated.
“Um, I did know horses,” she corrected.
Before she knew it, he reached into the bucket and tossed her a rubber curry comb, which she caught just in time against her chest.
“Once a horse girl, always a horse girl,” he said, then he tipped his head toward Nightshade. “Come on. You can help me out.”
Winnie stared down at the brush in her hands. She wasn’t sure about this. If feeling a horse’s breath on her fingers had launched her into the past, what would grooming one do to her?
“What?” Matthew asked, seeing her hesitate. “You’d rather pick the hooves?” He offered the pick to her, then eyed her up and down, his eyes lingering a moment on her legs. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to see that as much as the next person, but I do think a curry comb is better suited for you tonight.”
Her heart stuttered at his words.
He didn’t wait for a response, merely turned his back to Winnie and faced Nightshade’s back right hoof. He slid his hand down the back of the leg, and the horse lifted it instantly in response. Matthew braced himself, leaned forward, then began to pick out the hoof.
Winnie, however, focused on what faced her the most, namely, Matthew’s backside.
She blinked, realizing all too soon that she was kind of, sort of, most definitely admiring what she was staring at before she looked again at the comb in her hands.
At this point, with Matthew bending over like that and talking to her the way he was, she didn’t think she’d be focusing too much on the horse if she brushed Nightshade after all.
Silently, she stepped into the stall with Matthew, moving in front of the horse to cross to his other side.
Matthew didn’t respond. He simply reached down to Nightshade’s front hoof next. Winnie stole another glance at him before pressing the curry comb against the horse’s already pristine coat.
Flashes of brushing down Goldilocks flickered in her mind’s eye, but she set them aside as Matthew spoke again.
“I appreciate your help,” he said, grunting as he worked to clear out the hooves—though what little dirt was still there was beyond Winnie. “I’ve somewhere to be tonight, so I’m glad to have it.”
Winnie tipped her head to the side. “Oh? Got yourself a date or something?”
She frowned. What the devil had made her ask that? Now she sounded like she was more interested in him than she was.
Matthew straightened, looking at her over his horse’s neck, his features slightly red from exertion, though his eyes bright. “Maybe.”
Something akin to jealousy stewed in Winnie’s belly, though she told herself it was just hunger. “Well, good for you. It’s not easy finding time to date and work.”
Matthew smiled with a watchful gaze, but she didn’t acknowledge it. After a minute, he moved to the other side of Nightshade— the side she was on—and picked up the horse’s back leg. Matthew’s rearend once more faced her, though this time much closer than before.
She averted her body away from him, avoiding temptation altogether. He had to be doing this on purpose.
“I take it you find the balance difficult,” Matthew said, still cleaning out the hoof.
She fought the urge to look back at him. “I do okay,” she lied. She’d much rather talk about his dating life than her nonexistent one. “So is this a first date, then?” she asked, trying not to picture what type of girl Matthew was into. Probably a blonde.
“No, I’ve been out with her before.”
She paused, finally facing him as he put Nightshade’s hoof on the ground and straightened. “Oh. So, second date, then? Or hundredth?”
“She’s definitely not old enough to have gone on a hundred dates with me.”
Winnie pulled a face. He was that kind of guy, then, was he?
“I can see your confusion,” he said, his eyes shining. “Allow me to explain.”
“Oh, don’t feel like you need to defend yourself.”
“I don’t, but I’m going to explain anyway. My niece passed off learning her letters today, so my family and I are going out with her to celebrate.”
Instantly, the tightness in Winnie’s chest dispelled, and warmth spread throughout her like water pouring over a smooth surface. That was…that was really sweet, actually. But then, would he be bringing?—
“And no,” he said, interrupting her thoughts as he leaned against the side of his horse, his arm across the back of him, “I won’t be bringing an actual date.”
She glanced at him, feigning neutrality. “Why would I care about that?”
“Because you think I’m…What was it your sister said again? Oh, that’s right. Hot. ”
Winnie nearly groaned. She had begun to think she’d gotten out of that conversation. “I think you need to get your ears checked, Matthew,” she said, attempting to cool down her blush. “My sister was the one who called you that.”
He raised a brow. “Oh, just your sister, was it?”
“Yes,” she stated stubbornly.
“Are you sure?” he pressed. “Because I recall her stating specifically that you described me in such a way.”
He took a step toward her, and she froze in place. Why was he looking at her that way? With that knowing smile and with those warm blue eyes?
“Nope,” she said. “I just think…that you smell like horse.”
That was the weakest defense she had ever had. Ever.
Apparently, Matthew thought so, too, his smile growing to twice its size. “I have it on good authority that women like men to smell of such manly things as horses.”
“Who did you hear that from?” she asked, taking a step back. “Other men?”
He gave a soft laugh, taking a step closer to her. As he did so, his smile faded, though a softness lingered in his eyes as he continued to stare at her.
Her mind threatened to lose its grasp on reality with such a look, so she took another step back.
“What are you doing?” she asked, hoping her direct question would bring them both back down to reality.
He didn’t respond, his eyes searching hers, focused and determined until, for a split second, they dropped to her lips, and her mouth dried.
“I just want…” he began in a soft voice that filled her senses to breaking point.
She swallowed hard. What did he want? The same thing she did? What they both needed was to create distance between them, but with the stall door closed, Winnie had nowhere else to go.
What was even worse was that she didn’t want to have anywhere else to go. As coworkers, they should definitely not be entertaining such a proximity—or such thoughts. But she couldn’t help herself. If Matthew was willing…perhaps she was, too.
“What?” she asked when he didn’t continue, her voice huskier than she would have liked. “What do you want?”
“I want…” he began again, drawing a step closer to her so she had to crane her neck to maintain her gaze on him, “to get to that final hoof.”
Winnie blinked. The final hoof? What was he…
Realization rushed over her, and energy spilled from her limbs, causing her legs to tremble inside like gelatin.
“Why?” he asked, his eyes bright with feigned innocence. “What did you think I wanted?”
As if he didn’t know.
She raised her chin, hoping to maintain some shred of dignity as she pretended she wasn’t affected by his closeness, even though his teasing thrilled her. “Maybe you wanted me to know that you have no knowledge of personal space.”
He chuckled. Why did it feel so good to make him laugh?
Before he might have reached for the hoof with her right there, Winnie swiftly ducked beneath the horse’s head and continued her brushing on the other side.
Matthew picked up Nightshade’s hoof, carrying on with his work as if he hadn’t just almost caused her to melt into a puddle at his feet.
He must not have been affected in the same way she had—which was more than disappointing, even though it shouldn’t have been.
“So I take it you ride western, being from the States,” he asked, straightening as he finished Nightshade’s hoof.
He dropped the pick in the bucket and pulled out a hard brush, swiping down the side Winnie had prepped.
“No, actually,” she said, trying to keep up with the swift change in his demeanor. One minute, she was thinking he was going to kiss her, and the next, they’re speaking of her past with horses again. “I learned both, but I prefer riding English. Preferred English,” she corrected. “Like I said, I don’t ride anymore.”
His eyes stayed on his horse. “Why not?”
“I don’t have much time now.”
That was a lie. She could find the time. She just couldn’t find the courage to face Dad.
“Did you take lessons?” he asked next.
“Yeah.”
“How many years?”
“Thirteen or so.”
His brow shot up. “Wow. I take it you competed in shows, then?”
“A few.” Understatement of the century.
“Were you any good?” He rested his arms on the horse’s back, his attention finally focused on her.
“I was okay,” she responded, eying the ridges in his arms.
“Win any trophies or tournaments?”
“Almost each one I participated in.”
“Which was how many?” he pressed.
“Oh, I wouldn’t begin to know.”
“Come on,” he urged. “Just a range.”
“Um. Over a hundred?”
He gave her an impressed look.
She should have just shut her mouth after that. He didn’t need to know any more. But truth be told, she wanted more of his admiration.
“I also placed high enough to go to the qualifying rounds for Equestrian Eventing at the Olympics,” she said matter-of-factly.
His eyebrows shot up, his lips parting. “Seriously?”
She nodded.
“That’s incredible.”
“Thanks,” she murmured.
“No, really. You must have been amazing.” He blew out a breath, then his brow pulled together. “So, what happened? ”
She knew this would come next. “Goldie spooked. I fell hard on the ground and lost my chance.” She shrugged. “That’s all.”
He shook his head. “But you didn’t try again?”
“Nah, I didn’t bother. My dad…” She froze, forgetting to censor her words. “ We thought it wouldn’t be worthwhile to train again for so long. I just had too much else going on with school, and work, and family stuff, so I quit.”
“You quit the competitions?” he asked in clarification. He was no longer brushing the horse, fully enveloped in her story.
“Yeah. And riding.”
His brow furrowed. “Altogether?”
“I just didn’t have the time anymore,” she lied again.
In truth, it was Dad. It had all been Dad.
The memory of his cruel words rushed over her in unrelenting waves.
“It’s time to get your head out of the clouds and stop embarrassing the Knox family name, Winifred. You can’t make a career out of riding horses.”
Winnie winced at the memory. She’d begged him to reconsider. She’d joined honors societies and special clubs, participated in countless extracurricular activities, created service projects, earned her Associate’s before graduating early from high school—all of it to impress Dad to allow her to continue riding on the side.
But none of it had been enough. She hadn’t been enough. The minute Dad had seen her fall off the horse during qualifiers, he’d stopped her riding altogether.
“I’ll quit training, then,” she’d said. “Just let me keep riding for fun. I’ll pay for Goldie’s boarding, food, everything.”
“And who is going to pay for the embarrassment you’re going to keep causing us?” Dad had retorted. “Honestly, Winnie, falling off a horse in front of so many people?”
Winnie had been riding since she was a child. She knew being thrown and horses being spooked was bound to happen, but Dad didn’t care. He sold her palomino that same week and forbade Winnie from ever riding again .
The pain from the memory fully returned as Winnie took in the sight of Nightshade, his kind eyes and relaxed ears, gorgeous coat and smooth hair. And suddenly, she was overcome with a regret so poignant, she could hardly breathe.
She never should have stepped foot in the stables. Not only had she erased more than a decade of building up tolerance for not being around horses, but she’d also just revealed way too much to Matthew—a guy she wasn’t sure she could even trust with such knowledge.
She pulled the comb away from the horse at once, taking a step back as tears pooled in her eyes. She couldn’t do this any longer.
“Are you all right?” Matthew asked, concern in his tone.
Winnie strapped on a smile and tossed the comb into the bucket nearby, averting her gaze at once. “Yeah, of course. I just…I-I remembered I’ve got a few emails to respond to before the end of the day.”
Matthew nodded in silence. He didn’t believe her, but Winnie didn’t care. She needed to get out of there.
“Thanks for your help,” he said softly.
Winnie nodded. “Tell Ava congratulations on learning her letters,” she said, gathering her belongings on the bench outside of the stall.
She waved over her shoulder and fled from the stables, not daring another glance back at Matthew or his horse. She wouldn’t allow herself to fall into this miserable trap from her past.
Not again. Never again.
Matthew stared at the empty space Winnie had left behind, shock still fresh in his system.
She’d cried. Winnie Knox had actually cried. But, why? What on earth had been going through her mind those last few minutes to have made her so overcome with emotion—emotion he didn’t know she was capable of experiencing?
The memory of losing out on going to the Olympics would make anyone upset, as would speaking of a beloved horse dying or choosing to quit riding altogether. But in Matthew’s heart, he knew there was something more to her tears and her quitting. Something deeper and far more traumatic.
He picked up the comb she’d used on Nightshade, the rubber still warm from her grip as he finished brushing down the horse.
They’d been having such a civil and friendly conversation. No talk of business, no arguments, no criticisms. He’d even further tested the tenuous waters between them by pretending to draw close enough to kiss her. He’d done so purely for his own vanity’s sake, to see if she really did consider him attractive—enough to even kiss him.
But that had been a major mistake, as his feigned desire turned into a very real yearning to have her red lips press against his. The biggest problem had come when she hadn’t retreated like he’d stupidly assumed she would have. When had he ever known Winnie Knox to retreat from anything?
Although, tonight she’d been so different. So kind. She’d even taken the time to congratulate his niece on her letters—remembering Ava’s name, on top of it all. That spoke measures about a person. But that was the problem. Winnie was becoming more of a human being than the devil he’d made her out to be, created to make his life miserable.
He wasn’t supposed to think of her as a woman with desires and talents and heartaches of her own. He was supposed to want her gone, out of Foxwood in less than two weeks. That’s why he wasn’t helping her as he ought to be, letting her know that most of her ideas would cause the festival to fail even harder than before.
Because without telling her, she would be gone all the sooner. Then he’d be free from all this headache—free to get back to the heart of his festival.
He tossed the curry comb into the bucket with a shake of his head. It was time to shape up. No more teasing Winnie with flirtatious looks just because he wanted to see her blush. No more thoughts about how he admired her ability to work under pressure. No more conversations about horses and Olympic qualifying events.
And, more than anything, there would be absolutely no more thinking of Winnie Knox as a woman he would like to keep around. Even if that was beginning to change.