6. Parker
Parker
Delicious food is the secret to true happiness, or at least tolerating the likes of Bridget Hart.
This morning would have been impossible without a belly full of spicy, cheesy cowboy skillet.
Now that Leah is in front of me, I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.
The vibrance of her smile is missing. Her groove is off.
What could have possibly knocked her off kilter in the past few hours? Maybe I did too much at breakfast?
Should I ask? Will she give an honest answer if I do?
Why does this woman have me so twisted up inside?
Grady stands behind them, watching in the stable doorway. The scowl and tension on his face tell a troublesome story. Whatever has Leah upset is bothering him as well. For now, my curiosity will have to wait. Training is more important than playing therapist.
“Okay, let’s work on halts today. I like the way you move, but I need to see you stop,” I command.
She goes through the motions—straight in her saddle, arms at a beautiful height—but her heart isn’t in it. Tally is a lot of horse and, if left unchecked, will run the show, much like she’s doing at the moment. While she is halting, it’s not fluid.
“Leah, I need your head in the game here. Our first event is in a little over a month. You’re good, but I want you to be great.”
“Sorry, just a bad day. I’ll be better tomorrow,” she mumbles, barely loud enough to hear.
Missing a class is a non-option. We have too much work to do. Sitting through this one while she’s not mentally invested is also pointless. Something has to give, but I have them continue anyway.
Another half-hearted maneuver seals the deal. We’re not going to make any progress like this. There’s no point forcing her when she’s not in the right place.
“Okay. Double lessons tomorrow, be ready. For now, go on,” I concede.
She dismounts without a reply, leading Tally toward the stable.
There’s definitely a problem. This woman loves riding her horse, there’s no way she’d get off sooner than necessary.
She hands the reins to Grady with a blank expression—no acknowledgement of him at all.
Ah.
Whatever her problem is, he’s at the heart of it.
Great.
My plan is slowly going up in smoke before my eyes.
These two coexist like water and oil. Somehow, I need them to work together, find common ground, not kill our chances before they even begin.
Leah may not open up to me, but Grady will.
He’ll be more relaxed and open to hashing out the details once his duties are done.
So for now, I have the excruciating luxury of calling it an early night. Not fucking lame at all.
I make a point of walking through the stables on my way home, stopping at Tally’s stall to catch a glimpse of Grady as he works. He’s not wasting any time, clearly eager to get the hell out of here.
Good. The sooner he’s done, the sooner I can get some damn answers.
The instant I enter my cabin, the cheap polo I’m forced to wear comes off. Kicking back on my couch, random nonsense plays on the TV. What it is doesn’t matter, it’s something to shatter the depressing silence.
Endless questions rampage through my mind despite my efforts to space out.
Wondering what happened is torture—cruel and endless. After thirty agonizing minutes, I pull my phone out and open Grady’s texts. He should be done by now.
Me:
What the hell?
Hulk:
***
Me:
Care to explain what happened today?
Hulk:
I don’t honestly know…
Me:
Bullshit. Don’t hide stuff from me, man.
Hulk:
I… think I made her uncomfortable.
Me:
What the hell does that mean?
Hulk:
I don’t know.
Jesus, he’s hopeless. This is getting me nowhere. Groaning, I pinch the bridge of my nose.
Me:
Explain it to me like I’m two years old.
Hulk:
She… I think she wanted me to kiss her.
What the fuck?
I read his message over and over again. Seven times and it’s still the same. Of all the things he could have said…
Me:
DO NOT KISS HER.
Hulk:
I didn’t.
That’s not the same as saying he doesn’t want to. I’ll pocket that for now. If he didn’t do it then, I have to trust that he won’t in the future.
Hulk:
I’ll avoid her if I have to. Whatever is going to be best.
Me:
No, you quite literally can’t avoid her. Just try to give her some space and don’t do whatever it was that made her want to kiss you.
Hulk:
I didn’t do anything.
Me:
Well, just distance yourself a little, but stay civil.
Hulk:
Okay. Sorry.
Me:
No. You didn’t do anything wrong, okay? I just want to get us out of here.
Hulk:
I know. It’ll all be alright.
God, he’s so pure. If the only thing I ever accomplish in life is getting him away from this place, I’ll die a happy man.
Me:
Wait. Why do you think she was uncomfortable with you kissing her?
What a flurry of words. Hopefully he doesn’t pick up on my spiral.
Hulk:
When I almost did it, her body language changed. She got all tense and held her breath. I think she was afraid of me.
Fuck. He was actually going to kiss her. What the hell is the right response? Yelling will do more harm than good, so I’m going with educational. Life hasn’t given him any experience with this. It’s not his fault that he doesn’t understand.
Me:
She wasn’t afraid, she was probably a little anxious, and I’m sure she was confused. I don’t know all of the context, but I do know that you two don’t understand each other well enough to be kissing.
Hulk:
I know. It was just a moment of heightened emotions. I almost messed everything up. I’ll be more careful.
Me:
You’re fine, I promise. Don’t stress, okay? She’s a gorgeous woman. I don’t blame you for wanting to kiss her.
Shit. What the hell am I doing? This is not how you talk someone out of falling for someone.
Hulk:
She’s beautiful on the inside, too.
His message makes my heart pound, booming in my ears like a bass drum. This conversation is derailed beyond salvation at this point. Instead of peace of mind, his answers have raised more concerns.
Leah is about to be the one with a surprise visitor.
The faint sound of music echoes from inside as I approach her cabin. When I knock rapidly, it stops. She’s covered in—what I can only assume to be—flour as she opens the door. Her apron and messy bun do inexplicable things to me.
Grady’s right, she’s beautiful, and this version of her is my favorite by far—casual, relaxed, domestic.
“What’s that look for?” she asks, brows scrunched.
Okay, still grouchy, got it.
“You seemed like you could use a friend,” I reply as gently as possible.
“I don’t.” She moves to close the door, but I notch my foot in the opening.
“Wait. I-I talked to Grady…” Wincing, I prepare for her to freak out.
Instead, her shoulders slump. With a heavy sigh, she ushers me inside. Heading straight to the living room, I sit on the couch and she plops down beside me. For a moment, I think she’s going to spill her guts, but I’m met with silence. As if I don’t get enough of that with Grady.
Pressing for information she’s not ready to give will upset her. Judging by her flat expression, her mind is racing, deciding what information is safe to share with me. With a deep inhale, she lets out an exasperated breath, rubbing her eyes. As she leans back, our gazes connect.
That’s it, let me be here for you, too.
She tucks a foot under her knee. “There was… an incident at the stables this morning.” Chewing her lip, she exhales a heavy breath through her nose. “Bridget, she… she was saying things to Grady. Terrible things.”
My blood boils. Everything starts to make sense. “Like what?” I ask, even though I don’t need to. I’ve heard it all. He has, too, repeatedly.
“She called him disabled and useless. Really nasty stuff. I told her off, but I think it upset him.” Her face pulls into a sorrowful scowl, emerald eyes glistening.
“She does that pretty much every day,” I confess.
“What?!” Her breath falters.
All of these secrets suck. I’m not a fan at all. Walking on eggshells is not fun. Soon, we need to get everything out in the open before I combust.
“There are things you don’t know. Things I won’t tell you without Grady’s permission.
I don’t think you upset him. Just know that what you saw today isn’t even the half of it.
The plan I have—the one that depends on you—is ninety percent for him.
He doesn’t want your pity, so don’t go trying to offer it.
But, keep Bridget’s deplorable behavior in mind on the days you feel like quitting. ”
By the way she’s sitting—straighter, dialed in—my serious tone has taken her by surprise.
Mouth open slightly, she stares through me so hard her eyes must hurt. “No pressure or anything. I thought I was just here to chase my silly dreams… didn’t account for being a half-assed heroine.”
“You’re not half-assed… in any sense of the word.” I waggle my brows, giving her a playful nudge.
Fortunately, it seems to do the trick. She giggles in return, body relaxing. I don’t want her to dread training or get in her head because of the stakes. Some day I’ll tell her more, but that can’t happen until I know we can trust her.
The problem is, she’s still keeping secrets of her own. How can we make her trust us, too?