Chapter Five
Jasper
Tipping my head back as the cold night swirled around me, I jumped on the spot, shaking off the last of today’s hangover. Rolling my neck from side to side, I tried to iron out the cricks, then moved the crotch of my joggers away from my dick, urging it to calm the fuck down too.
Ten hours. Ten bloody torturous hours of looking at picture after picture of Hallie Oakley had made me hard as a fucking rock all day.
The only reprieve I got was when we looked at color samples for the upcoming Knighton Equestrian shoot and not the models themselves.
The shoot that Hallie would be at in a couple of weeks with her long raven hair and turquoise eyes, looking beautiful as fuck and wearing my designs.
Twenty-four hours ago, Hallie Oakley was blissfully absent from my life.
She was a name I had swirling somewhere in the back of my mind as a rider who Leon was impressed by.
It was a name I’d heard on people’s lips on the circuit as an up-and-comer, and someone many were nervous of competing against one day.
Now Hallie Oakley was imprinted on my brain as the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, with an arse I desperately wanted pressed up against my dick and a face that looked like it had been painted by a Renaissance master.
If I hadn’t seen her this morning in the arena, if her striking eyes hadn’t met mine and revealed who she was, it would have only taken me a second of looking through the test shots my creative team did a few weeks back of this season’s models for me to recognize her from the night in the barn.
I scanned my desk, image after scattered image of Hallie glancing up at me, her stunning, sea-blue gaze causing my hands to curl into fists.
There wasn’t a bad picture amongst them.
In each, she was beautiful—full lips, dimples, and radiating innocence until you saw the streak of wild that lived in her eyes.
Fuck!
She’d seen me drunk.
She’d seen me broken. No one got to see me broken. Fear washed through me. Had I said anything to her? Had I told her anything about what we were going through?
I groaned aloud and ran my hand down my face. I had to get her out of my head. Our riders signed NDAs. Even if I’d stupidly loosened my lips, she couldn’t share what she’d heard. But that didn’t make me feel any better. I didn’t like people seeing me crumble. I didn’t like looking weak.
“Fuck!” I called out into the quiet night, clenching my hand into a fist. But when I looked down at that fist, all I could see and feel was Hallie’s hand firmly gripped in mine.
I thought back to today, of how she couldn’t look me in the eye. Of how she kept her hat tipped down so I didn’t see her face when we were introduced. She couldn’t wait to get the fuck away from me. Good. She needed to. Last night shouldn’t have happened.
And why had she even been there? In the family barn? It was out of bounds for anyone but us.
I sighed, trying to clear my head. I’d thought of nothing else all day.
With every picture of Hallie that crossed my desk, my dick got harder until I thought that it’d punch through the tabletop.
To say she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in my life was an understatement.
No wonder in my inebriated state I’d thought she was a fucking angel.
Unable to take any more of my own brain, I set off on one of the riding trails in a jog.
The night was dark, but the lamps illuminating the trails and arenas were still lit, allowing me to see the way.
I urged my body into a fast run, pushing as far as my legs could take.
I might not have been competing on the circuit anymore, but I’d never let go of my fitness routines.
I didn’t know why. Maybe I still needed to keep myself fit and healthy because I was so used to it.
Or maybe—a truth I refused to admit—it was because I wanted to keep myself tour-fit . . . just in case.
Just in case, one day, I found it in me to ride professionally again.
I ran as fast as my legs would go, exorcising the last of the whisky from my system. When I couldn’t take any more, I drew to a stop at the fountain on the opposite side of our house and put my hands on my knees.
I sucked in freeing gasps of air, my lungs screaming at the frigid temperature.
Sweat poured down my face, and I stood straight, tipping my head back to the view of the crescent moon and blanket of stars above me.
I loved that about living in the sticks—no light pollution to rob you of a full and vibrant night sky.
My breathing began to slow when I suddenly heard the crunching of gravel underfoot behind me.
I turned around, expecting to find Felix or Forrest, who often came out here to run too, but I froze when a familiar set of turquoise eyes were fixed on me, wide and awkward.
I immediately swallowed and ran my eyes down the stunning picture of Hallie Oakley, only feet from where I stood.
She was dressed in purple. A long-sleeve lavender base layer and black yoga pants. White trainers were on her feet, and her long hair was pulled back in a high ponytail on the top of her head.
She pushed a ringlet of hair from her flushed face. “Sorry, I was just out for a run.” Her voice was breathless, and her accent thickened into a deep southern twang. “I didn’t think anyone would be around.”
I stared at her. Fuck me, but she was gorgeous.
Her body was all curves—small, dipped waist and perfect flared hips.
But my gaze dropped down to her hand, clenching and unclenching at her side.
The hand that had held mine all night. The one I still could feel against my palm if I concentrated hard enough.
Flustered, no doubt by my heavy silence, Hallie blew out an exasperated breath and turned to leave. As she did, I said, “You were in my barn last night.”
I could be an arsehole. I knew that. In fact, Atticus often called me a surly twat—I knew that too. But even to my own ears my voice was too hard and gruff.
Hallie stiffened. I waited to see what she would say. When she turned back to face me, I crossed my arms over my chest and waited for a reply.
Hallie tucked her loose ringlet behind her ear, but her chin tipped upward, a hint of defiance in her body language.
I narrowed my eyes at that show of power.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her sweet, accented voice immediately flooding me with warmth even though the night was ice cold and bitter.
“I couldn’t sleep, so I went to see Huxley.
I didn’t . . .” She trailed off, seeming to try to find some kind of excuse.
Sweetness laced her voice again as she said, “I didn’t mean to pry into your section of the barn.
I didn’t know it was closed off until I saw your family’s horses and realized who they belonged to. ”
I clenched my jaw. Something about her apology seemed forced, like she wasn’t sorry one bit.
All I could picture in my head was Hallie finding me completely wrecked last night.
Hell, I didn’t even let my own family see me that way, never mind a young rider who we’d just sponsored to ride our horses for the next couple of years.
Shit, how old even was she? She could have been anywhere from five to ten years younger than me.
I wanted to smack myself in the face at my fuckup.
But apparently, I wasn’t done being a moody bastard, and the flare of challenge in her eyes was a red flag to a bull.
“You must have opened a closed door to get in there,” I said, and heard the venom in my voice.
“A closed door that means keep out,” I added.
I couldn’t help it. I was fucking embarrassed.
I was the owner and CEO of Golden Oaks and Knighton Equestrian.
I was meant to have my shit together, and on her first week here, Hallie had seen me in a total mess.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she said, and I studied her face. Was I mistaken, or was there an attitude on the word “sir”? I couldn’t be sure, but it had my blood beginning to heat in my veins.
“Hallie, right?” I asked. I knew exactly who she was. At this point, her face was seared into my brain.
“Yes, sir,” she replied again, only this time with more bite. By the ghost of a smirk on her lips and the crossing of her arms, I knew she wasn’t being contrite. But hell if the word “sir” leaving her mouth—shitty attitude or not—wasn’t a damn aphrodisiac.
I stepped closer to her. Close enough that I almost choked when the scent of rose and vanilla crept up my nose.
Her turquoise eyes practically glowed in the warm lamplight as she watched me, not a hint of shyness about her now.
I stood about a foot above her, and she raised her chin higher as her eyes ran over every inch of me.
Fuck. Me.
Hallie waited for me to speak, as still as night. Her cheeks were flushed, whether from jogging, the cold, or my presence. “If a barn door is shut, you don’t go in there,” I said, rigidly.
“Yes, sir,” Hallie said again, with that same rebellious inflection to her voice, and fuck, she had no idea what that kind of attitude did to me. It made me want to break her.
I kept my shit together and said, “We’re going to forget all about last night, okay? Forget that you saw me being so unprofessional, and I’ll forgive your blatant intrusion into my family’s private property.”
Hallie inhaled slowly, though I caught a hint of fire flare in her tropical sea eyes. “Yes, sir,” she said again.
With nowhere else to take this conversation, I nodded again in acceptance.
As her eyes boldly met mine for several strained seconds, I knew I needed to leave.
I needed to turn around and leave this woman alone.
But the way she stared at me, unabashed even through my censure, had me rooted to the spot.
I found myself wanting her to push me, to let out whatever ire had built within her.
To try my patience. It’d been such a long time since I’d had a worthy adversary.
Someone who awoke something inside of me. Something I thought was long dead.
“If that’s all, sir,” Hallie said in a falsely sweet tone, breaking the heavy silence between us, “I’ll get myself home.”
Hallie took off back toward the row of rider cottages nearest our house. I could have done without knowing she was sleeping only yards away from my own rooms. But I watched her go until she opened her front door and disappeared inside, but not before glaring my way.
I blew out a long breath, getting my shit together, then took off in a steady jog back to the house.
As soon as I entered through the back door, I went straight to my study.
I was in there all of five minutes before I logged on to my computer and brought up the CCTV cameras from the barn last night.
And I watched exactly what had happened.
I watched Hallie go to see Huxley, just as she’d said.
And I couldn’t help but smirk as I watched her stand at the closed door to our family section of the barn and check the coast was clear before she boldly looked inside.
Didn’t know it was private, my arse. Little Miss Southern Belle knew exactly what she was doing.
Then I watched, fascinated, as she stared at Lord Henry.
My heart beat faster, just seeing how taken she was with my stallion.
But more than that, I stopped breathing at how Henry let her fuss and fawn over him.
Henry was a beautiful horse, but like the prince he knew he was, he could be particular with who he let close to him.
But he’d let Hallie love on him instantly, like she’d known him for years.
Seconds later, I groaned when I saw my drunken self stumble into the barn, clutching a bottle of whisky, and Hallie hid away in Dahlia’s old stall.
Until I heard her trying to leave. Until she helped me lean against the wall.
And until she held my hand and sat with me as I cried.
And how she blanketed me with her robe, and then fell asleep beside me, her head laying on my chest.
It was over an hour that I sat in my study just watching us both sleep on that floor—a fool plagued with demons and the angel who selflessly stayed by his side.
Slamming the laptop shut, my head fell into my hands. I was stupid, letting Hallie see me that way. And it wouldn’t happen again—couldn’t. No matter how beautiful she was, or how her spark of rebellion had ignited something within my dormant heart, it couldn’t happen again.
I had no time to obsess over tropical eyes and long dark hair. Or how good a small hand felt in mine.
I had only one job these days: to find my father’s killer and protect my family.
And that was fucking that.