Chapter 14
Chapter
Fourteen
T hanks for your help today.” Nadine Kline turned from where she loaded the dishwasher with a smile on her face.
Eryn shifted from one foot to the other. “I shouldn’t leave while there’s still work to be done.” Also, she couldn’t believe Nadine had been doing this alone half the time.
Nadine laughed. “It’s never done, so don’t worry about it. You made the soup for lunch and prepped half of dinner plus made dessert. That apple cake smells amazing, by the way. I hope you have more recipes like that up your sleeve.”
Whew. “Thank you. I like to bake, so I’ll be happy to do more. And there are lots of apples.”
“I was thinking of pie with a sourdough crust.”
“I’ve never worked with sourdough. Never baked bread of any kind. Yours is delicious.”
“I can teach you.” Nadine poked her chin toward the warming oven near the industrial-size range. “Tomorrow’s dough is already fermenting.”
“I’d love to learn.” It was true. Even though Eryn didn’t love cooking, baking was something else. “Tell me when to be here.”
“There’s time enough for that next week.” Nadine’s gaze slipped past Eryn, and she smiled. “Hey, Maxwell.”
“Hi, Aunt Nadine.”
Eryn couldn’t keep from turning. Ack! How had she not heard him sneak up right behind her? She pressed her hand over her heart. “You startled me!”
“Sorry.” The grin revealed a dimple that did not look the tiniest bit repentant. “I heard you were off at one, and I was hoping you’d come to the stable with me.”
Eryn fingered the hem of her apron. “I’m not dressed for riding.”
Maxwell’s warm gaze slid to her toes and back to her face. “You look great to me, though you might want to leave the apron.”
Nadine coughed and turned away, waving her hand. “Don’t mind me.”
“There’s someone over there I want you to meet. Did you walk down this morning or drive? I’ve got one of the golf carts, so I’m happy to take you by Hummingbird Lane if you want to change before we go to the stable. Not that you need to.”
“Who do you want me to meet?” Eryn untied her apron and slipped the loop over her head. Whether she went with Maxwell or not, her shift was done.
“It’s a surprise.” He grinned.
That guy. Did he have any idea the power in those dimples? Eryn doubted it, or he wouldn’t flash them so regularly.
“Come on. You know you want to, right? Unless…” He studied her. “Unless you’re tired and need a break.”
Was he kidding her right now? She was an introvert and could always use a break from people if she’d spent five minutes with them, let alone four hours. On the other hand, this was Maxwell, and he didn’t add that sort of stress. He’d become a safe landing place, and the stable sounded quiet and welcoming.
She lifted her chin. “I’ll come, but I would like to change first, please.”
Was that relief on his face? Did he really think she had the capacity to turn him down?
A few minutes later, they pulled in front of the stable where Weston was working a young horse on a longe line. Since Maxwell stayed sitting on the cart, watching, Eryn did, too.
After a moment she asked, “What is he doing?”
“That’s Echo, Nutmeg’s two-year-old. She’s… skittish.”
Eryn watched for clues. The filly’s eyes grew wide when Weston, murmuring softly, stepped closer, his hand outstretched with something on it. Echo seemed more fearful than curious as she backed away, nostrils flaring. “Is that normal behavior?”
Maxwell shrugged but shook his head slightly. “Not from what Weston told me. He picked Nutmeg and Echo up at an auction last spring. The mare settled in pretty well, but Echo? He hasn’t been able to win her trust.”
Eryn studied the head wrangler and how he worked with the young horse. “He’s patient.”
“He is.” Maxwell chuckled softly. “Way more than I could ever be. At least two-by-fours and tiles and cans of paint can’t get it in their heads that they don’t want to do what you bought them for.”
“I hadn’t thought of that. I’ve always worked with people. My boss at Debby’s was demanding, and the other workers and the diners weren’t always kind. It wears on a person.”
Maxwell gestured to Weston. “You should have seen my cousin back at the beginning. He’s quiet and gruff now, but he was downright angry all the time then… except with the horses. He’s always had all the patience in the world with them. People? Not so much.”
Eryn was beginning to think she should have been in a different line of work all along. Maybe the gift shop would be a good fit for that. Less peopley, at least in the offseason. But there wasn’t really any solo job at Sweet River, except maybe Dad’s.
“You seem to like being around people, though.” At least, he worked with a crew, and he wouldn’t be in that sort of business if he hated them. Right?
“Some of them.” The lines around Maxwell’s eyes crinkled when he smiled. “If they want to hustle and work as a team, we get along great. If they’re too independent or too lazy — if they don’t seem able to follow orders or own their mistakes — they usually don’t last too long working for me.”
Was there a warning in that? Eryn wasn’t sure if she had that kind of independent streak or not. She’d never pushed the limits but gone along with expectations. Amelia had prodded enough for them both, and maybe Eryn had simply tried to form a counterbalance.
Maybe, just maybe, she’d done herself a disservice by not rocking the boat and figuring out who she really was and what she wanted to do with her life. Amelia had spent her whole life trying to prove she wasn’t the same as Eryn. Eryn had spent her life trying to prove she was a nice person, even if her sister wasn’t.
Had she needed to show that to anyone? Maybe she could have lived it out by being herself.
Maxwell rose and stretched his hand to her. “Come on. I want you to meet Echo.”
Eryn’s startled gaze met his. “You brought me here to meet a horse?”
“I did.” He grinned. “Is that okay?”
“Sure. I guess.” She stood and accepted his hand as she jumped off the cart.
Made him feel like a hero from an old western helping a genteel lady off a stagecoach. Maxwell scoffed lightly under his breath. Wrong millennium, Sullivan.
She was no pampered debutante. She was far, far more self-sufficient. Thank the Lord for all the changes in women’s rights since those old days. The women on his crew did all the same jobs the guys did.
Eryn let go of his grip, approached the corral slowly, and leaned her arms on the top rail, watching Echo.
Maxwell’s hand felt empty without hers in it. He followed her and mimicked her stance, his shoulder pressed against hers. “What do you think of her?”
“I’m not sure why it matters?”
He hesitated, searching her face. “There are dozens of other horses, so Weston and Darrell don’t have all the time Echo needs.”
Her gaze narrowed. “And you think I have time? I know nothing about horses!”
Had Maxwell misjudged her? “You have more time than they have, but if you aren’t interested in hanging out with her, you certainly don’t have to.” He shifted so he wasn’t touching her and forced his gaze back to the filly.
Weston glanced toward the visitors, eyebrows raised. He had Echo circling on the longe line, more slowly now.
How to answer the unspoken question? But Maxwell wouldn’t give up on Eryn so easily. He’d probably bungled the question. He gave a slight nod to his cousin.
Weston waited for Echo to slow to a walk and complete the circuit a couple of more times as he slowly shortened the line, reeling the filly closer and closer until he hooked his fingers on the halter strap. Echo pulled back, eyes wide, and Weston spoke soothingly to her, too quietly for Maxwell to pick out more than the tone.
“We think she was mistreated at the other place. Or maybe only neglected, as if that’s not bad enough.” Maxwell kept his voice similarly low as Weston brought Echo closer to the rail.
“She’s beautiful,” Eryn whispered.
Maxwell managed a complete breath. “She is.” He stopped before adding that Eryn was, too. No, today’s step was about winning Echo’s trust.
“Are there apple pieces?”
Maxwell nodded to the bucket hung over a fence post nearby. “You want to feed her? You can get inside the pen, if you like. Just?—”
“Just move slowly and don’t startle her. Got it.”
“Yeah.”
Effortlessly, Eryn swung over the corral like the experienced farm girl she was. The Ralstons might not have had horses in many years, but she certainly knew animals, all the same. She scooped her hand into the apple bucket then held it out toward the filly. “Who’s a pretty girl? Echo, that’s who. Hey, Echo, want to be friends?”
Weston met Maxwell’s gaze over the filly’s back. His nod was miniscule, but Maxwell cheered inside at his cousin’s approval.
Echo stretched toward Eryn then pulled back. Weston murmured something to the filly.
Sounded like the way Stephanie talked to baby Simon, honestly. The tone of voice, the soothing words, the focus on stillness. And was Maxwell holding his breath, awaiting the outcome? Sure was. He managed a breath or two as he focused on the tableau in front of him.
Weston kept murmuring sweet nothings to Echo, and Eryn said them back. If Maxwell wasn’t so certain of Weston’s adoration of his fiancée, Paisley, he’d have been a little jealous of the way they tag-teamed that filly like they’d been doing it their entire lives.
After a few minutes of the shy dance, Echo nipped a piece of apple from Eryn’s palm. By the third morsel, she allowed Eryn to touch the side of her muzzle.
“Aren’t you soft? Do you like that?”
Maxwell strained to hear her voice, his heart welling at the picture the woman and the horse made together. Once again, his gaze met Weston’s. This time, the wrangler’s approving nod was firmer.
Weston continued in the same sing-song voice he’d been using on Echo. “She likes you. Would you be interested in hanging around with her for a bit most afternoons? You can bring your laptop if you have stuff to do. We’ve got access to the resort Wi-Fi here.”
Eryn’s head snapped up, and Echo shied back, but Weston still held the halter.
“Sorry. I thought Maxwell mentioned that to you?”
“Not precisely.” Eryn shot Maxwell an accusatory glance. “He just mentioned he had someone he wanted me to meet. Someone who needed time and attention.”
“Right?” Weston sounded confused.
One more thing Maxwell had in common with his cousin. “If you’re working on the gift shop proposal, you could do that from here, if you wanted.”
“From where, exactly? It’s October, and it’s not going to get warmer over the next few weeks.”
“Oh! We’ve got a place inside we can set up for you. A space big enough for Echo to hang out nearby.” Weston thumbed toward the stable. “Want to see? But also, if you don’t want to — if you don’t have time — it’s okay. She’ll survive.”
“Survive?” Eryn looked between him and the filly a couple of times. “Show me.”
Maxwell resisted the urge to pump his fist. She might not know it yet, but she’d already agreed.
Weston ushered Eryn in front of him as he led Echo into the stable.
No way was Maxwell being left out of this. He entered via the main doors and waited for a few seconds for his eyes to adjust before following his ears toward Echo’s box stall.
“See, we’ve got her in this one by the office, because she needs all the extra attention we can give her.” Weston rubbed his jaw. “Thing is, neither Darrell nor I sit around in there. We’re too busy for that kind of nonsense.”
Eryn stiffened.
Bad wording, cousin.
“But if your job is already on a computer — Max said you had a research project — then maybe it would work for you?”
Calling the nook an office was a bit of a stretch. If Grandfather had noticed what the facilities were like, he’d have insisted on building a proper, enclosed room where not just anyone could wander into the area.
“I’ll just clear space.” Weston gathered up dusty files and stacked them off to one side. “I can requisition a better chair, too. It’s just that Darrell or I rarely sit here for more than five minutes. Not if we can help it.”
Eryn cast a questioning glance at Maxwell. “We could try it for a few days. I’m working mornings in the kitchen. I might not be super regular here.”
“I’d be grateful if you’d try. She’s a good temperament. Has good lines. But she has trust issues.”
Maxwell held his breath. Would Eryn feel too set up? But it wasn’t like they’d looked for a needy filly to create a project for her. Echo had been here for several months already.
“What would I need to do?”
“They say a person shouldn’t sit at the computer all the time without taking breaks.” Weston clearly didn’t understand how anyone could do that, anyway. “So, get up, stretch, talk to Echo, feed her an apple chunk or a carrot, touch her face, maybe brush her a little, and go back to what you were doing. Maxwell mentioned you’re interested in turning that poor excuse for a gift shop around?”
“Maybe.” She sent Maxwell a glare.
Oops. Maybe he’d been telling tales out of turn. But either way, if she and Echo could help each other, wouldn’t that be a win all the way around?