Chapter 7 Valentina #2
Faith smiles at me again, the tops of her cheeks turning rosy. “It’s a beautiful barn—plus, animals always seem to ground me. I can see this being an awesome place to escape to.”
I nod. “I want to put some work out equipment out here—”
“What about the horses?” McCrae grumbles, and I stop midsentence. I hadn’t even considered the horses. Do I have to keep them? I don’t know a thing about the beasts, nor do I care.
In true Faith fashion, she just waves off McCrae’s question as if it’s of no consequence.
“There’s more than enough room. If work out equipment would make this space more ideal for you, then you should do it!
There’s even a stall set up with a shower head-like attachment—to wash the horses off, or riders, whatever suits your fancy. ” She winks.
“Ha. I think I’ll stick to showering inside.”
She shrugs. “Probably for the best. It’s not heated.”
“So, uh, where are the horses?” I look around the immaculate space, still seeing no signs of the creatures in question.
“I put the horses out this morning.” Santos walks into the barn, a sheen of sweat coating his face, and he gives Faith a genuine smile.
She stares at him for a beat before returning the grin—she doesn’t seem interested, and I can’t help but wonder why.
Santos is as good-looking as they come, but if he’s not her type, what is?
“Faith, Santos. Santos, this is Faith,” McCrae grumbles, trying to brush the enormous, tanned man under the rug like a speck of dust.
Unwilling to be modest for any reason, Santos winks at Faith. “Nice to meet you.”
“She’s too fucking young for you. Keep those hands,” McCrae bites out the word, “to yourself.”
“McCrae!” Faith and I hiss in unison.
He’s become a brute around Faith, and I can’t understand why.
“I’m not kidding, boy. Hands off.”
“Okay, old man.” Santos raises his hands in mock surrender.
“Men are ridiculous.” Faith shakes her head, turning her attention back to the field even as her cheeks flame red. “I can protect myself, if you remember, McCrae.”
There’s a weighted pause.
“What does that mean?” I ask, but neither one looks at me. I bristle—I don’t like to be on the outside of anything, especially when it pertains to McCrae.
Maybe I should be worried about Faith after all.
As if reading my mind, Faith shakes her head, shooting me a teasing smile. “McCrae thinks that because I don’t have any good role models, he has to be that for me, like an annoying older brother or something.”
Faith misses the way McCrae’s face darkens at her words, but I don’t.
Santos scoffs. “I’d feel bad for anyone who had this grump as their older brother.”
I choke on a laugh; the comment will hit too close to home for McCrae, even if it was someone he liked. I could intervene.
But what would be the fun in that?
“What would you know about what a good brother looks like?” McCrae snaps, and I shoot Faith a ‘they’re about to whip out their dicks’ eye-roll.
“Not a damn thing.” It’s barely a whisper, and I’m not the only one who notices the sudden drop in temperature.
The conversation went from jealous banter to icy one liners. What’s Santos not saying? What’s in his past that would make him go from mischievous to almost murderous in the blink of an eye?
Either sensing the threat or oblivious to it, Faith pipes up, severing the growing tension. “Did Mateo pick out your horses or?”
Speaking of brothers…
“Yeah, he did.” McCrae reluctantly looks away from Santos.
“Probably selected the three most likely to kill me.” I fold my arms across my chest. I wouldn’t put it past Mateo to try and wipe me out for good—less hassle that way.
“Why would he do that? He’s your brother.” Faith’s eyebrows lower, confusion filling her words.
I just shrug. I don’t have the time or energy to explain our fucked family dynamic. Especially not to Faith, not when I know she’s also best friends with Adalene and, by proxy, my brother.
She saw the way things were the other night; surely, she can put together the pieces. I’m the outlaw, they’re the saints. Plain, simple, clean, cut and dry.
“They seemed really sweet, wanted treats when I let them out. Good, calm temperaments.” Is he talking about Adalene and Mateo?
Santos walks over, crossing his arms over the top fence railing to stare into the field.
I remember we’re talking about the horses, and I nod as if I have a clue what he’s saying.
“So they’ve been easy to manage for now. Good. And the cows?” Faith continues, and once again, guilt fills me. It’s not the animals’ fault they got stuck with me. Why should they suffer?
And when did I get so selfish?
“I’ve driven out into the pasture twice, just to make sure they have water and nothing’s lame. So far, so good. They seem healthy and happy,” McCrae adds.
“This is a great place. You own water rights here, and the fields have been so well-maintained, you should only have to do spring type maintenance to keep everything in order. It’s easier to keep things in good shape when they start in good shape.”
Temperament, lame, pasture, water rights—I feel my composure slipping as I realize just how little I know.
“We can hire some guys once a year to repair the fences and whatever else. That’s probably our best option. V can afford it.”
I snap, rage bursting out of me like a festering wound. “What the fuck are you guys talking about?”
Faith offers me a small smile. “It’s a lot to learn, but you’re smart. You got this.” She bumps her shoulder into mine. “Can we go for a drive out there and check it out?”
“Yeah, I’ll pull the truck around,” McCrae grumbles. “Santos, keep unloading the hay and cleaning stalls.”
Santos rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue. They both stomp away like overgrown babies.
No one seems to notice my spiraling. No one seems to care.
“So what’s your deal?” I ask, staring at Faith as we bump along, my body annoyingly squished against McCrae’s in the middle seat of the single row work truck. It jostles beneath us, and I vow a new, smoother vehicle will be my first ranch purchase.
“I think that’s the first time you’ve asked me anything about myself.” She isn’t one to mince her words. I hate that I like it.
“Uh, sorry.”
She smiles at me, her green eyes glittering with mischief. “What do you want to know?”
“How do you know so much about ranching?”
“My family owns a breeding operation. We raise bulls with high-end genetic material.” I nod—I don’t have a clue what she’s talking about.
As if realizing that, Faith settles further into the seat and continues, “Bulls are uncut males. They sell for a lot, especially if they’re high end, because they can be used to breed a whole herd of cattle, depending on size, for multiple years. ”
“Oh. Okay.”
“My family also owns a lot of land with multiple oil rigs on it.”
So she’s, like, rich rich. “You don’t seem—”
“Snobby?” She laughs; I inwardly cringe, but she doesn’t seem annoyed or embarrassed. “Not all of us care about the fancy things in life. Not that there’s anything wrong with that; it’s just not my thing.”
“Why not?” I ask skeptically. I can’t understand not wanting the very best if I had access to it.
“When the money comes from people who torture you in exchange for access to the things you want, it all loses its luster. I’d rather have nothing than be afraid of the price of such things.”
Her answer catches me off guard completely, and by the way McCrae accidentally grinds the gears of the truck mid-shift, I’d say it surprises him too.
“I don’t—”
She waves her hand. “Sorry. I’m a notorious oversharer. Forget I said anything.”
But I can’t forget what she said, and part of me wants to know how she does it. She might be dainty and full-fem, but she also has glimmers of steel beneath the surface.
“How do you live with the fear?” I refuse to acknowledge what I’m actually asking.
She faces me fully, her girlish features gone—there’s an edge to her that would make even the deadliest person pause.
“I learned to protect myself. When I was shipped off to rich-bitch Ivy League college, I made friends with a girl who changed everything for me. She taught me I didn’t have to be who I was made to be; I could be anyone I wanted.
So, I found a small gun range in town almost no one went to.
There was an old man there, the nicest man I’ve ever met, and he taught me to shoot.
He was previously a sniper for the Marines, so as you can imagine, his lessons were very thorough and intense. I’ve never been afraid again.”
I’ve never been afraid again.
Without thinking, I open my mouth. “Can you teach me?”