29. Beau
twenty-nine
Beau
“I think I missed this the most,” Daisy says as she hip-checks me on her way down the stable aisle.
I grunt. “Giving me a hard time?”
“That too,” she says with a grin. “But what I meant was working together. Moving around each other. You know… hanging out.”
I loop a finger into her jeans and yank her to me, hard enough that the wide-brimmed hat falls from her head. “I miss it too.”
She smiles, eyes straying to my mouth, then clears her throat with a pointed glance at the hayloft.
Ollie’s up there, safely ensconced in a corner, counting horse cookies for this week’s “inventory report.” We’re waiting for the right time to tell him about us, but we both know the right time won’t arrive until we know where I’ll be come September.
And with the days passing faster the closer we get to when I’m expected at Kismet Creek, time isn’t on our side.
I let Daisy go and step into the nearest stall, pull the screwdriver from my back pocket, and start work on a loose latch while she guides Marelot out into the aisle.
“No trail rides this afternoon?” I ask.
“Nope. I’m tacking up for Chord and Violet. They’ll be here any minute.”
“How are they with horses?”
Daisy rolls her eyes fondly. “Chord’s an excellent rider, but then again, Chord’s excellent at everything. Violet’s good. She wasn’t a year ago, but I gave her lessons, and she can hold her own now.”
“That’s great,” I murmur, glaring at the lock. “Just great.”
Daisy pops a hip and pins me with an affectionate but reprimanding look. “You’re going to love them, and they’re going to love you. It’s only a matter of time.”
I scoff quietly. “Not sure about the love part, but I appreciate your optimism.”
I understand why she believes that the biology of family makes happy endings inevitable. She’s got a lifetime of love to prove it. But I know better. Blood isn’t always thicker than water. Family doesn’t always come through for you like you want them to.
I keep an eye on Daisy while she does her thing and I do mine, but she’s got everything under control. I finish the latch on the stall gate while Daisy’s outside tacking up, and as she returns for De Canter, I scale the ladder to the loft and poke my head up over the edge.
“Everything all right up here?” I ask Ollie, who’s carefully stacking horse cookies and making markings on his sketch pad to track the numbers.
“Yep,” he says distractedly before pinning me with a frown. “You made me lose count!”
“Oops. Sorry, buddy. I was only checking to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine, Uncle Beau,” he says with a touch of childish exasperation.
“Good to hear. I’ll see you again in twenty minutes.”
His dark head is already bent over his notes again, furiously scribbling out whatever sums I messed up, and I chuckle at how quickly he’s become comfortable around the horses and in the stable.
My feet hit the ground just as Daisy’s leading De Canter out through the stable doors. Without warning, a covey of quail bursts from the grass by the paddock gate, and a lone bird shoots across Daisy’s path. De Canter startles, forelegs lifting as he surges sideways with a powerful jerk.
Daisy grunts as she’s yanked off balance, and I run to her, knowing she’ll have him under control again before I get there.
And it’s true. In the time it takes me to reach her, De Canter is still again, eyes rolling a little, but Daisy’s face is crumpled with pain, and she’s cradling one hand against her chest.
“What’s wrong?” I demand, pulse racing. “What hurts?”
“Rope burn,” she hisses between clenched teeth. “Ah… fuck.”
Relief and anxiety make my heart skip. I hate that she’s injured, but I’m grateful it’s not more serious.
“It’s okay,” I say soothingly. “I’ll take care of you. Give me De Canter, and I’ll be right back.”
Daisy relinquishes the lead rope, and I guide the gelding out of the stable.
After easing his nerves with a gentle circle of the paddock, I secure him on the tie rail a little distance from Marelot and hurry back into the stable.
Daisy’s sitting in the aisle, perched on an upturned bucket, eyes pinched and face pale as she examines the red stripe on her palm.
I squat down in front of her. “Let me see.”
She lets me take her hand. “I’m fine,” she says. “It’s not that bad.”
I scan her face quickly, then return to my examination of her palm. “Stings like a motherfucker, doesn’t it?”
She huffs a laugh. “It really does.”
“Let’s get you to the sink.”
In the tack room, I pull out the first aid kit before running the faucet, then set her hand under the cool water. She gasps, the fingers of her other hand biting hard into my bicep.
“I’m sorry, Darlin,” I murmur, concentrating on the wound to make sure the skin is flushed clean. “I know it hurts.”
She leans against me, face turned into my chest, and I kiss the top of her head as I wash the area with soap, then pat it dry with a clean towel. Daisy’s jaw is hard, her eyes tight around the corners.
“You’re tough, Davenport,” I say with an encouraging half smile. “I’ve seen men twice your size weep over rope burn half as bad as this.”
She laughs despite herself. “That ranch in Oklahoma, right?”
My grin deepens. “You remember.”
“Hard to forget the way you cried like a baby.”
I chuckle because we both know I handled it like a hero. “Whatever you say.”
I find a tube of antibacterial ointment and apply a thin layer, then wrap her hand with gauze. Finally, I offer her two ibuprofen.
“Take them,” I say. “Then go home and rest. I can finish up here.”
She accepts the pills and a bottle of water, then tests her hand with a tentative flex. “I don’t need to rest,” she says, “but I might not be much help around here for the next few days.”
I lift her chin and brush my lips over hers. “I’ve got it.”
The kiss doesn’t linger, but we’re still interrupted by the sound of someone clearing his throat at the tack room doorway.
“Chord,” Daisy says. “Hey. Didn’t see you there.”
“Hey,” he replies shortly.
Daisy’s brother flicks me a cautious look as his sister crosses the tack room to give Violet a hug.
“Are you okay?” he asks, nodding at Daisy’s hand.
“Rope burn. Nothing serious, and Beau already took care of it.”
“I saw,” Chord says with another look that I can’t quite read. It’s not hostile, nor is it friendly. More like speculative.
“I need to check on Ollie,” I say to get out of here. The tack room isn’t large by any definition, and with both Chord and me in the same space, I’m feeling claustrophobic. “If you’ll excuse me?”
“I’ll do it,” Daisy says in a rush.
“Your hand—”
“Your hand—”
Chord and I stare at each other, our words echoing and then cutting off in an off-putting chorus.
“I can climb a ladder,” Daisy says. She snatches up Violet’s hand, leaving the taller woman wide-eyed with surprise, and practically drags her from the room. “You boys play nice.”
She leaves me and Chord in the tack room, and it’s awkward as fuck.
“I’ve got stuff to do,” I say, making a move to leave.
Chord shifts to block my path, and I freeze. I don’t want trouble, but I’m not letting him walk all over me.
“Daisy came to see me after family game night,” he says, noting my surprise. “You didn’t know?”
“I didn’t put her up to anything, if that’s what you’re asking.”
He lifts an arrogant shoulder, his eyes still cool.
“Well, good talk,” I say, and try to leave again.
Again, he shifts to block my path.
“What do you want?”
“I want to know what your plans are with my sister.”
“My plans?”
“Yes.”
I square up to this wall of hockey-player hostility, impatient to be done with the intimidation routine. “I plan to marry her. Spend the rest of my life with her. Live every minute of every day making her the happiest she’s ever been.”
“Here at Silver Leaf?”
I swallow hard. “I don’t know. Daisy would like that, but I get the impression she’s the only one.”
I can’t read a single emotion on this guy’s face. I can see how he earned his reputation as a machine on the ice, but it’ll take more than muscle and an attitude to intimidate me.
“Well, then, what are you going to do for work?” he asks.
It’s a fair question, but coming from a professional athlete whose playing contracts were never less than eight figures a year, the question hits a sore spot.
“Anything,” I reply tightly. “Whatever it takes to provide a good life for Daisy and Ollie.”
Chord’s eyes narrow slightly. “Even if it means shoveling horse shit for the rest of your life?”
My temper flares. “It’s honest work,” I grind out. “And I’m not going to let a guy wearing a Rolex make me feel bad about it.”
His mouth twitches on one side.
“So is that it?” I ask. “Can I go now?”
“In a minute.”
I sigh and cross my arms. “What is it? What do you want?”
Chord softens a little. It’s subtle—a small change in his shoulders, a slight shift of his stance—but he’s suddenly less threatening. “Silver Leaf is closed this Saturday for my retirement party.”
“I know.” I uncross my arms and tip my head. “Congrats on taking the championship. It was a good game. Third period was fucking brutal.”
“You watched it?”
I shrug. “I like hockey. So what?”
“Huh. Any chance your nephew is a fan?”
I huff out a laugh. “The kid’s all about horses right now, but come hockey season, he’ll be glued to the television for games.”
“I see.” A faint line moves between Chord’s brows before he takes a breath, then exhales like a sigh.
“So, listen. We’re hosting lunch up at The Hill this weekend for my family, my team and management, a few legacy players, plus an extended guest list that Charlie says is curated but required.
It’s a schmooze event mostly, and the press will be sniffing around, but the food will be good. Music too.”
He pauses, and I wait for a punchline that doesn’t come. “Okay?”
His mouth twitches again, and I wonder if that’s Chord Davenport’s version of a smile.
“Do you want to join us?”
“Me?”
He lifts one brow, almost smiling for certain now. “Yeah. You.”
I run a hand down my face, trying to calculate why he’s asking, why he’s being nice, and why my instinct is to say no.
It’s because I don’t belong there. That’s why.
“I appreciate it, but I’ve got Ollie, and—”
“Bring him,” Chord interrupts. “So we’ll see you there?”
“Uh…”
“Great,” he says, like my agreement is a given. “Dress code is garden chic cocktail.”
I frown. “What’s that?”
At first, I think the blankness in his stare is disdain for my ignorance, but then he scowls.
“Oh, who the fuck knows? That’s what Charlie told me, and it was Violet’s idea, so that’s what we’re doing.”
I chuckle, and his mouth twitches again as Violet chirps from outside the doorway. “Did someone say my name?”
Chord shifts to let the girls in, and at the sight of his fiancée, Chord’s cold exterior melts away. He takes her hand and kisses the back of it. Ollie hangs off Daisy’s arm, eyes bugging at the sight of Chord again.
“I was telling Beau about the dress code for the party on Saturday,” Chord says.
“Oh!” Violet’s eyes light up as she smiles. “It’s summer garden cocktail. Linen button-downs, tailored chinos or a dressy trouser, loafers or clean, white dress sneakers. Think whites and beiges and olives with soft pastels, like blush and lavender and sage. It’ll be so pretty!”
Chord’s watching Violet with that twitchy mouth, his eyes soft, and I glance at Daisy. Her expression is smug, and I’m certain she’s put her brother up to this.
“I don’t know if I can make it,” I say. “I have to work, and I don’t have anything, uh, garden chic in my closet.”
Violet leans into Chord and blushes faintly. “I’m dressing all the boys for the event. It’s no trouble to pull something for you too. You’ll look great. Don’t worry about that.”
The idea of wearing linen pants and loafers makes me want to groan, but I don’t.
“And then there’s Ollie,” I add. “Is it an event for kids?”
“Izzy will be there,” Chord says. “So yes.”
Ollie’s ears prick up at the sound of his friend’s name, and I know I’ve lost the fight, but the inevitability of it doesn’t ease my nerves. The whole thing sounds like a playground for the rich, and I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb.
But then I look at Daisy, and she’s all lit up with hope.
“Sure,” I agree, trying to sound thankful instead of cornered. “I’ll be there. I appreciate the invitation and the, uh, offer to dress me?”
Violet laughs, and even Chord cracks a real smile.
“Glad to have you,” he says. He turns to Ollie next, lifting the brim of his hat to better see his face. “You got linen pants, little man?”
Ollie shakes his head in awe.
“Don’t worry,” Violet says. “I’ve got something for you too.”
Ollie breaks into an excited grin, which forces me to wonder if this party might be a positive development after all. For Ollie, at the very least, and maybe a step in the right direction for me and Daisy.
“I’ll finish tacking up for you,” I tell Chord, “and you can get started on that ride.”
Chord lets me pass this time, and I shoot Daisy a stern look, but she doesn’t look sorry or guilty. She looks elated, and I shake my head with a reluctant grin. I’d do anything to make my girl this happy.
She waits until Chord and Violet have disappeared along the closest trail before she throws her hands around my neck, forgetting that Ollie’s watching. But when I loop my arms around her waist, he barely hesitates before he worms his way between the two of us, making us smile.
“Thank you for saying yes to the party,” Daisy says. “It’s going to be great.”
“Linen pants?” I ask dubiously. “Loafers?”
“I think you’ll look handsome,” she says with a sparkle in her eye.
“Can I wear my hat?” Ollie asks, craning his neck to look at us.
“I don’t see why not,” Daisy says. “Unless you want me to style your hair a little? Maybe use some gel?”
He thinks about this. “Like Chord?”
Daisy chuckles. “Yeah, something like that.”
Ollie tips his head to one side, thoughts whirring behind his eyes. “That sounds good.”
I swallow a snort, but I don’t mind Ollie deciding he wants to look like the rich and famous hockey player. Maybe it’ll set a fire in his belly to not end up like me—shoveling horse shit for the rest of his life, exactly like the rich, famous hockey player said.
Daisy is a walking ray of light, and I so badly want to kiss her, but I don’t. Instead, I ask, “How’s your hand?”
“It’s great.” She beams, and I know that’s not the question she’s answering. “It’s really, really great.”
There she goes again. Believing. Wishing. Wanting. My only hope is that I can live up to her faith in me and not screw things up at her brother’s party.