Chapter 2
Mace
One month later
Today was pretty damned exciting. The stallion, Whiskey by name and coloring, I was currently riding had been an unexpected congratulatory gift from Kitt.
The animal arrived at my barn this morning.
He was as beautiful as I remembered, big and powerful, and likely the most well-trained horse I’d ever seen.
What was getting to me right now was that Whiskey was the first horse I’d ridden casually since Wildflower.
Two hours later, I was more impressed than before.
We were in a full gallop; his gait was extraordinary.
We hit full speed, eating the miles, and Whiskey still had more energy to give.
My ball cap was on backward, my body tucked in around Whiskey, encouraging Whiskey to keep going with the reins in my hands.
The speed was exhilarating. I’d missed that feeling of freedom, riding with nothing more than the wind in my face and the ground beneath Whiskey’s hooves.
Well that, and the mounds of dust caking my body from this being one of the dryest summers on record.
If I were a good boyfriend, I’d send a quick message to let Slade know that Whiskey and I were good.
He’d been worried this morning when Whiskey and I were taking off by ourselves.
I’d only planned to be gone long enough to see what Whiskey had, but I’d stayed out longer than I’d reckoned, exploring everything this big guy had to offer.
In the distance, I spotted Slade’s security, mine I guessed too, but they kept a distance. I hoped they kept Slade advised. My actor was turning into a control freak, and I was still his obsession. Of course he’d know what was happening with me.
I eased back in the seat, Whiskey instantly slowing to meet my movement. He was an incredible beast. What a great gift from Kitt, the man who had easily become a close mentor and friend over the last thirty days.
I guided him to the tank Slade had installed years ago when he did his best to run cattle on his land.
We sauntered to the nice-size pond, I dismounted, holding the reins as Whiskey drank.
My goal for this rest break was to check my phone and grab my water bottle to wash all this dirt out of my mouth.
The water bottle took priority as I quick rinsed my mouth before taking long drinks.
Weirdly, my parents came to mind. They were all over me these days, suspecting more was happening than I shared in my maybe ten-word explanation about the sanctuary.
They weren’t wrong but I also wasn’t ready to tell them the full truth.
But I might be seeing a path forward for all of us.
Looking out into the future came with fear, so I tucked it away and focused on this minute only.
My most current truth was that my thighs and ass quivered from exertion, my muscles not anywhere close to being ready to ride like I just had.
I took a seat on the ground, kept the reins in my lap, and worked my cell phone open. Seconds later, I was flipping through the incoming text messages. I only had five people who ever texted, and they were all there. Well, now I had seven people with Kitt and his architect adding to the mix.
My farm was in the direct center of our approved construction plans.
Slade had helped develop and approved the designs.
He shined at making me believe my place was in his house.
My home was intended to be the new office of the sanctuary.
No matter how I reacted or scoffed, I clung to his vision, praying that he continued saving my life.
Apparently, I had more friends than that, receiving message after message from the contractors beginning to do the hard work. I let those hang and also scanned past both my mother and father’s messages, Lori’s too.
It was Slade’s message that had me tapping the screen to open our R-rated text thread. Six missed messages. My genuine grin at seeing his name turned more to a smirk as I read through the heap of missed texts.
“What’s going on? How does it feel to be back on a horse? You good?”
The next one. “Why aren’t you responding? You good? You haven’t ridden in a long time.”
The next message came with a photo of Slade hanging drywall.
He was damned good at taking selfies. This shot had him alone at my place, screw gun in hand.
My smirk spread to a healthy smile. Slade had offered to add my house to the list of construction we needed.
To his persistent dismay, I’d refused the help, which meant he and I were hanging drywall, then taping and bedding it before painting the place ourselves.
Hand callouses were becoming a real thing for Slade.
His white-collar palms were taking a beating; one I enjoyed thoroughly.
The fourth message: “Seriously, guy. Take me out of my misery. How are you?”
The fifth message. “I’m sending security out to make sure you’re okay. You never go so silent like this.”
The last message was a single question mark.
The sound of one of many security guard vehicles—this one diesel-powered if the noise were any indication—came closer.
I tightened my grip on the reins, and I glanced over my shoulder to verify my prediction.
Whiskey’s head made about the same movement, sparing a look at the arriving truck.
Slade was behind the wheel as he barreled toward me.
He didn’t look happy which made my smile bigger than before.
I questioned my response to Slade’s over-the-top protection of me.
Only to remember, Slade’s time with me was coming to an end.
He’d be leaving for Hollywood or NYC soon.
He jaunted back and forth between the two large cities.
I could tell he didn’t want to go when he became short and tense with everyone.
I didn’t argue or take offense. We were sickeningly in love, my body and mind craved Slade’s presence. If he needed to protect me, I let him do it. Well, until this afternoon if his angry glare meant anything. I didn’t rise but did reposition my ball cap to keep the sun out of my eyes.
“What the fuck, Sutton,” Slade called through the open driver’s window.
His arm rested on the window’s frame, waiving a hand through the air in exasperation.
He cut the loud engine as he stopped nearby.
I heard him, of course I did, he can be loud, but I pointed a finger to my ear and shook my head.
Whiskey tugged at the reins, giving me the opportunity to say loudly to the horse, “He doesn’t mean it. I promise he’s a good guy.”
Slade shook his head incredulously. He was out of the truck, his stride eating up the distance between us and the truck. “It’s been years since you’ve been on the back of a horse. Why couldn’t you respond to my messages? I was getting things done and had to leave to check on you.”
By the time he finished expressing his disappointment in me, he stood directly over me. His stance was one of power as he crossed his arms over his chest. My guy had stopped shaving about a week ago. Now he could easily combine his intensity and all that hair to create the sexy devilish appearance.
I liked the start of that beard. I’d be able to grab on to it, force him wherever I wanted him to go. My sac tingled in appreciation of my naughty thoughts.
My gaze lowered to my lap, back to my phone, seemingly ignoring his outburst.
I worked the screen again, opening my mom’s message. A warmth spread over me. I didn’t glance up as I shared the news with Slade. “Lori had the baby. It’s a girl. What’re we gonna do with a baby girl? Her brothers are little monsters. How will she survive them?”
I lifted the screen for Slade to see a pic of the newborn.
I wasn’t sure he could see the photo in the blazing sunlight, but he reached for the phone, cupping a hand over the top.
The bluster left in seconds when his eyes landed on the baby girl.
At least that was what I envisioned if I could see past his dark sunglasses.
She was a pretty little thing with a swarth of chestnut-colored hair and bright blue eyes, of course he’d like her.
“She looks like you,” Slade murmured, proving my point.
He stared at her for several long seconds before he dropped down to sit beside me.
Kitt had assured me that Whiskey was whistle trained.
Since Slade was there, I decided to test the theory, letting go of the reins, giving Whiskey room to wander.
Slade’s finger slid down the screen, going through all the photos. “Your mom also agreed with your new schedule at the bar. Max needs extra work. They want you to train him. Did you see that?” Slade passed the phone back to me.
No, I hadn’t seen that message. My new hours for the fall and winter were Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. Four in the afternoon to close, which would leave me free to monitor the design and construction happening on both my land and Slade’s.
“They’ll be ten to twelve hour days,” Slade said.
I nodded at his good math skills, and said, “Yeah, it’ll be thirty-six hours a week.
My nephews are startin’ to play sports, and their games are on Saturday.
I’ll probably be asked to take those daytime hours too.
It frees my parents up to go watch them play.
My income will take a hit. My checkin’ account isn’t gonna be happy with me. ”
“Whatever income lapse you have can be covered,” he said. Finally, he showed signs of his normal personality. He used his hands against the ground to help scoot closer to me.
“Whatever I’m bein’ paid and all my tips are goin’ into the sanctuary.
I’m not takin’ money that can help animals.
I’ve already told you that I won’t take your money.
We’ve been together for a couple of months.
I’m not your responsibility. I’ll figure it out,” I explained, casting a quick side-eye at my guy, wondering if that was finally the time he’d hear my words.