Chapter 8
I run home and slip into the barn, where I keep some spare clothes hidden. They smell a little funky, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I’m used to the strong aroma of horse and the stronger smell of manure.
I sneak into the house, staying as quiet as I can.
A glow pulls my attention to the living room.
Ashala and Tess are zonked out on the sofa.
The TV is still on, its light flickering over their sleeping faces.
They’re cuddled against each other in a way that makes me think I’m not the only one keeping secrets. The realization makes me smile.
Good for them.
I slip into the kitchen and locate the rib-eye steak in the fridge.
It takes a mere second to shred the thin film of the package, and I tear into the raw meat, too famished to cook it.
I’ve had raw meat many times, and I’ve never had an issue with food poisoning.
My stomach can handle it, and besides, I heal fast. Sickness and bacteria don’t really have a chance to take root in my body.
After disposing of the steak packaging and washing my hands, I hurry upstairs, shower quickly, and get in bed with my hair bundled into a wet knot.
Not the best option, but my body is crying for rest. I have to prioritize sleep, especially when I’m this emotionally volatile.
Being with Rick in the cave left me feeling saner and more refreshed than I’ve been in a long time, but I came so close to devouring him that I won’t let myself take any chances.
Besides, he’s going to show up here early, and I’d rather not have the world’s biggest dark circles under my eyes.
When I wake up, I can tell by the light filtering through my curtains that I slept in.
I didn’t have my usual morning alarm, because my phone is in my bag, which Rick took with him—but my body’s clock is so accustomed to rising early that I rarely need the alarm anyway.
I thought for sure I’d wake up at the usual time.
Apparently not.
Cursing under my breath, I hurry through a quick version of my morning routine and run down the stairs while redoing the messy knot of my hair. I burst out the back door and head for the stable, concerned for the new horses. They’re used to seeing me first thing in the morning.
I stop short when I see Tess leaning on the fence of the stableyard, watching Rick lead Atreides from the stable’s interior to the open air.
Atreides is tentative, eyes shifting warily, ears switching forward and then backward, but he’s not resisting. He’s not panicking or chuffing. I can tell from his body language that he likes Rick.
I’m immediately jealous. Happy for Atreides, of course, but slightly peeved because it took him so long to warm up to me, and here he is, trusting Rick right away.
But it’s like that with horses sometimes, just as it is with dogs, cats, or other animals.
Sometimes they find their person, that one human in all the world they were fated to meet.
It’s a magical thing to witness. And I get to watch it happen in real time.
“That’s right. Perfect,” says Tess, her voice full of shock and delight. “You’re doing great. Wow, Rick. This is so awesome.”
I approach slowly, not wanting to distract Atreides. Rick’s attention is fully occupied by the horse, so he doesn’t notice me right away.
“So, this is unexpected,” I murmur to Tess.
She glances at me, excitement and a hint of apology in her eyes.
“I know we don’t usually do this but… he brought your truck over while you were still sleeping.
He said to let you rest, and he asked to help with the chores, so I let him do the feeding while I supervised.
Marlowe, it was the coolest thing the way Atreides perked up the second Rick walked into the stable.
Like magic, I swear. So we just went with it.
I figured you wouldn’t mind. Rick doesn’t have much experience, but I’ve been here the whole time. They’re good.”
“It’s okay, Tess.” I chuckle and squeeze her shoulder reassuringly. “I mean, I’m a tiny bit mad that Rick’s making this look so easy. But it’s all about Atreides, anyway.”
“Rick seems like a good guy.” Tess shoots me a sidelong look, paired with a smirk.
“Hush.” I bump her ribs with my elbow.
She raises both hands in a deprecating gesture. “Hey, I’m not gonna ask what happened last night, or how he ended up with your truck and your bag, or how you got home.”
“And I won’t ask what’s up with you and Ashala.”
Tess flushes beneath her freckles. “It’s pretty new. You cool with it?”
“As your boss I’m supposed to say something like, ‘As long as it doesn’t interfere with your work, or create an awkward work environment,’” I reply. “Pretend I’ve cautioned you about all that.”
“Noted.”
“Otherwise, yeah, I’m good with you guys being happy. Obviously.”
“Thanks.” She wraps me in an ecstatic side-hug.
At that moment, Rick finally looks from the horse to me.
He’s got a way of smiling that mostly involves the upper half of his face, while his mouth barely curves.
I love the creases that deepen at the corners of his eyes, the way his cheekbones become more pronounced, the sparkle in his gaze.
He looks like a scruffy, surly, broad-shouldered cowboy who’s trying hard to be grouchy but can’t help letting the joy leak through his grim facade.
“I think he likes me.” Rick keeps his tone even, not raising his voice. He isn’t trained to deal with animals like this, but his instincts are serving him well.
“He absolutely likes you,” I confirm. “And I’m gonna warn you—now that you’re his person, Atreides is going to want to see you regularly.”
“Gives me an excuse to visit often.” The warmth in Rick’s gaze intensifies. “I’m not mad about that.”
Tess and I watch while Rick stands with Atreides, patting his nose or cheek occasionally, speaking a few words now and then in a deep, calming tone.
The gelding relaxes more and more, the tension leaving his neck and shoulders.
Eventually he lowers his head and starts nibbling the tufts of grass in the yard, mostly ignoring Rick.
That perfect comfort, to the point of casual nonchalance, is exactly what I’ve been working toward with Atreides.
I motion for Rick to come out. Keeping each movement deliberate and unhurried, he climbs over the fence and drops to my side.
“How’d I do?” he asks in an undertone.
“You did so good. This is the first time he’s felt okay to come outside. It’s a huge step for him.”
“Glad I could help.”
He’s looking at me intently, and I’m turning into a human candle, cheeks flaming with mingled embarrassment and happiness, avoiding his direct gaze because if I look right at him, I think I’ll combust.
“Well…” Tess drags out the word dramatically. “I’m gonna go help Ashala with the rest of the chores. We need to exercise our other two new residents, and we’ve got a couple families coming in for rides today. So… busy, busy.”
She walks off, smirking, and I let out a nervous little giggle, after which I immediately want to sink into the ground, because what sort of fearsome mythical water horse giggles in front of her one-night stand?
“Wish I could stay,” Rick says. “But I’ve gotta get back to the diner. We’re preparing for the festival. We’ll be extra crowded when all the tourists come into town.”
“Oh. Right.”
“Your purse is in the kitchen, on the island,” he continues.
“Thanks. I’ll get it when I make coffee.”
He hesitates, and I can practically see his thoughts churning. “I can open the diner a little late this morning. Let me make the coffee.”
“I have a coffee-maker.” I frown, confused.
His smile widens a fraction. “Special coffee.”
“Oh. Um… I don’t know.”
“Marlowe.” His voice is a low rumble, soothing as a cat’s purr. “I came inside you. Surely you can trust me enough to try one of my drinks again.”
My face is blazing, and my voice is a mere whisper. “Okay. Fine.”
I lead him into the house and perch on a stool after showing him where things are.
“We don’t have many magical ingredients,” I warn him. “Just some phoenix eggshell powder that Ashala uses in her tea, and a bit of dried voisin’s wort in that cupboard above the sink. Might be one or two other things that people have given me over the years.”
“It’s fine. Certain ingredients make it easier to compose the drinks, but I can still do it without them. I’m the magic.” He throws me another crinkly-eyed smile, and I melt inside.
I’m so far gone already. I haven’t fallen for a guy this fast in a long time. No, scratch that—I haven’t felt quite like this about anyone, ever. My previous trysts were brief, and they meant nothing.
But this… this could be something.
Rick is wearing a rust-colored henley today, and he has the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing sinewy forearms. I watch his strong, veined hands as he makes the coffee, adds a bit of this and a little of that, murmurs words I can’t quite hear, and cups his hand over the mug.
There’s a brief glow, the drink responding to his power, and then he pushes the cup toward me.
“Try it,” he commands.
“Yes, sir.” I lift the mug and blow lightly on the surface before taking a sip.
Smooth, creamy, chocolatey sweetness glides over my tongue, but it’s not overly saccharine.
There’s the darkness of the coffee and the bite of spice.
I knew this wouldn’t be one of my usual drinks, and since I had no expectations, I’m not disappointed.
This is a different environment. It’s not Lou’s, and I didn’t order a Wild Eye or a Tristesse, so my brain doesn’t expect the familiarity of Lou’s beverages.
This is new.
I take another long sip and decide that I like it.
Rick surveys me, eyes narrowed. “You didn’t even ask me what the drink does.”
“I guess I trust you now.” I smile at him.
“It’s designed especially for you. You’ll feel sad, but the sadness will be tempered with nostalgia. Afterward you’ll be angry, but the anger will end with a sense of triumph. Let me know how it works for you. I can tweak the recipe to make it stronger next time if you want.”
“Next time?”
“I plan to be making you coffee for a very long time, Marlowe Reilly.”
A delicious thrill passes over my skin. “That’s presumptuous of you.”
“Drink up,” he orders. “You’ve got work today.”
“In addition to worrying about my bloodthirsty sister,” I mutter.
“I have to tell the council something about her. It’ll probably end up with me getting shut out of the festival.
If they have to ban one kelpie, they’ll ban us all.
I can’t ask the witches to make an exception just for me.
It’s too bad. I love attending the concerts, visiting the booths, tasting the treats. ” I sigh a little without meaning to.
Rick doesn’t reply, but he looks pensive as he comes around the kitchen island. “I texted a buddy of mine when we left the stable. He should be here to pick me up in a few minutes.”
“You already have buddies?”
“Yeah. Buddies in progress, anyway. I told you I was working on making friendships.” He kisses the top of my head. “Be good today. Don’t eat anyone.”
“You got it.” I give him an awkward little salute and turn back to my drink, listening to his footsteps leaving the kitchen, heading for the front door.
He kissed my hair. I wish he’d kissed my mouth.
He sent me several signals that he’s interested in me beyond what happened last night. And he accepted me—all of me, including my wild, violent, ravenous side.
Maybe I should send him a signal, too.
I abandon my coffee mug and run after him. I burst out the front door as he’s walking down the drive toward an approaching Jetta.
Rick hears me running and turns. I fly into his arms, my palms on his cheeks, pulling his face down to mine.
His lips are smooth, warm, and soft. He tastes smoky-sweet, like he had bacon and juice for breakfast before driving out here. I trace the edge of his tongue with mine, then ease off on the kiss. I touch my lips to his once more, softly, then back away.
His eyes are bright and fierce. “I’m coming to see you tonight.”
“We’re having a trail ride and then a campfire dinner with some clients,” I tell him breathlessly. “You can come around nine.”
“I will.”
As he’s turning away, I say impulsively, “Bring a bag if you want to stay the night.”
Was that too much, too soon?
“Okay,” he responds. And then he’s swinging himself into the Jetta’s passenger seat, and the guy in the front is waving politely to me as they turn around and head back down the driveaway.
I go back inside and pour my special coffee into a thermos.
I’m already feeling the effects, but instead of overwhelming sadness, the emotion flooding my soul is bittersweet.
It’s an effective release, but it’s more bearable, less overpowering.
I don’t have to run off to the beach to scream and cry for an hour. I’m functional.
When I get back to the stable, Tess has Miranda, the new chestnut mare, and Carrie, the palomino, out in the training circle, and she’s got music playing over a Bluetooth speaker while she works with them.
I hitch myself over the fence and hop down near Carrie. The palomino swings her head toward me, and I rub her nose affectionately.
“I chose a Taylor Swift playlist this morning,” Tess comments.
“I noticed.”
“Miranda and Carrie probably haven’t heard any Taylor yet.” She pats Miranda’s nose.
I have wide-ranging musical taste, and I’m not mad about today’s music selection.
I’ve noticed that the cadence of Taylor Swift’s songs and the lower timbre of her voice tends to soothe the horses when they’re having an off day.
And with all the poignant emotions swirling through my heart, the lyrics resonate with me in a whole new way.
This morning, I really do feel “So High School.” Except with Rick and I, the killing part of “kiss, marry, kill” isn’t an exaggeration, but a very real possibility.