Chapter 4
4
Essie
“S
omeone give me a needle,” I said as I stormed into the library Saturday morning. “I’m in a stabbing mood.”
Hannah Bell, the Aspen Springs librarian and the organizer of our little sewing club, grabbed my embroidery project from the metal cabinet that also housed a hodge-podge of holiday decorations and signage from past library events.
“What’s going on?” she asked as she handed over my half-completed cowgirl flipping the bird under a Dolly Parton quote: Don’t be a lady. Be a legend .
“Braxton Hale.” I practically spat his name like it tasted bad.
James Campos, the head trainer at Lodestar Ranch and very likely to soon be Brax’s sister-in-law, judging from the way his older brother, Adam, lit up every time she was near, exchanged a knowing glance with Chloe Adams, the fourth member of our club, who was generally very smart, but was under the misguided impression that Brax was nice simply because he was polite and tipped her generously at the coffee shop every morning.
Frankly, I didn’t care for it.
I threw myself onto one of the empty chairs and split a glare between the two of them. “He’s a jerk,” I announced in a tone that dared them to contradict me.
“He does seem to rub you the wrong way,” James said diplomatically.
It wasn’t a contradiction, but it wasn’t agreement either. She wasn’t one to talk shit about someone behind their back, and she actually got along with Brax. Of course, most people in Aspen Springs would argue that Brax was a goddamn delight compared to his grumpy older brother, Adam. I wasn’t one of them.
Chloe smirked at the butterfly she was embroidering. “Sometimes when people rub each other the wrong way, it’s because they want to tear each other’s clothes off and rub each other the right way.”
“Chloe!” James snorted as she tried to hold back her laugh.
“Just a thought.”
“Well, it’s a disgusting, vile thought,” I grumbled, even as my brain—unhelpfully!—supplied me with a mental image that made me push my thighs together. Hate, unfortunately, was a very arousing emotion.
James poked her needle through the linen fabric, a funny little smile hovering on her lips. “Hmm.”
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing. Just…Adam once told me something about Brax that—” She bit her lip, her eyes sparkling. “I probably shouldn’t repeat it, though.”
“You should definitely repeat it,” Chloe encouraged.
“Let’s just say that according to Adam, he’s the smallest of the Hale brothers.” She leaned in. “And he isn’t small at all.”
My needle slipped and poked the end of my index finger. I sucked the pain, glaring at the fabric. I really wished she hadn’t told me that. I didn’t need to know my ex-best friend had attributes below the belt that matched his ego.
Hannah furrowed her brow. “Isn’t Adam taller than Brax? Not by much, though. I don’t see how an inch more matters at all.”
Chloe, James, and I stared at Hannah in baffled surprise. Then Chloe tipped her head back on a loud bark of laughter. “Trust me, Hannah. An extra inch matters.”
“Not height,” James explained gently. “We’re talking about…” She made a gesture to her lap .
“Dicks,” I supplied.
“Oh.” Hannah pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, blinking her blue eyes like an owl. She considered that for a moment, then shrugged. “No, I stand by my original statement. Size doesn’t matter. An extra inch isn’t going to improve the outcome.”
“What outcome is that?” Chloe asked.
Hannah shrugged again. “Disappointment.”
I sniggered. I couldn’t help it. Disappointment summed up the majority of my sexual encounters, too. Sure, there were outliers. And I was fortunate that none of them were necessarily bad . Just...meh.
“Maybe your expectations are too high,” Chloe said. “It’s those romance books you’re always reading. They give you unrealistic expectations.”
Hannah sniffed. “I hardly think an orgasm is an unrealistic expectation. If I can get myself there in three minutes, he should at least be able to accomplish it in thirty. Basic care and consideration for the person you are literally inside of should not be too high a bar to scale. It’s a foregone conclusion that men will have an orgasm from every sexual encounter. The same should be true for every woman who wants it to be.” She stabbed the fabric with her needle. “The bar is so low it’s a tripping hazard in hell,” she muttered.
That shut us all up.
Hannah was something of an enigma and despite the fact that she had called Aspen Springs home for nearly three years, I knew her only slightly better now than I had the day she moved here. She looked the part of a librarian, with her blonde hair pulled into a bun and those long skirts she liked to wear. Prairie chic. She was reserved and a little mousy, but I wouldn’t call her shy. When she had something to say, she said it. Firmly.
I cleared my throat. “I’m going to need to borrow one of those books.” Might as well indulge in a fictional man since the real thing was taking its precious time showing up.
Hannah eyeballed me speculatively, lips pursed in thought. I got the feeling she was reading my soul. Then she brightened and snapped her fingers. “I have just the thing. I’ll bring it for you next time.”
“Great.” I wrinkled my nose. “Not one of those Bridgerton books, though. I don’t care about balls and society rules. Give me something interesting.”
Hannah laughed. “I love those books, but don’t worry. I know exactly what you need.”
I opened my mouth to ask for the title so I could look it up and see what I was in for but stopped when I caught sight of Janie hovering in the doorway. “Hey, you came!” I turned to the group. “You all know Janie, right? She bartends at the Painted Cat. I invited her last night, or I would have given you a heads up.”
“No worries. I have supplies.” Hannah bustled over to the cabinet. “Have you ever embroidered before? ”
Janie shook her head. “Never.”
“I’ll get you started with a sampler, then. It’s the easiest way to learn stitches.”
Hannah pulled Janie into a corner to teach her the basics.
“Hey, Essie,” James said. “You never told us what Brax did that made you so mad.”
Janie’s head jerked up. She looked interested but, like last night, she didn’t ask questions.
“Oh.” I frowned at the thread that had somehow tangled itself in a knot. “He bought a horse I rightfully stole, that’s what.”
Silence.
I looked up and saw everyone staring at me, mouths agape.
James recovered first. “Say that again?”
I pushed my project aside, frustrated. Hannah silently picked it up and got to work on the knot. “You know how Alan Gaffney is always bragging how he won Gee Whizz’s colt in a poker game? Well, Brax bought him.”
James sucked in a sharp breath. “Pirate?” she gasped. “Brax really bought Pirate?”
I nodded. “He really fucking did. Must have cost him a small fortune, too, because I made Gaffney an offer several times and he always said no.”
“Oh my god!” James let out an excited squeal, shimmying a little in her seat. “What’s the plan? Is he going to keep him at Lodestar? Pirate will need training?—”
“James,” Chloe cut in with an incredulous look. She shook her head. “Horse girls, I swear. Essie, go back to the important part. You know, where you committed a felony.”
I waved her aside. “Probably better that you don’t know the details. My point was that I had everything under control, and then Brax swept in and took over.” I growled at the memory of his smug face informing me that he was Pirate’s new owner. “But I don’t want to talk about it. I want to stab something.”
“Almost done,” Hannah said. “This thread is really tangled.”
Chloe tilted her head, then pushed her project across the table to me. “You can do my French knots. I always mess them up.” She watched as I twisted the thread around the needle. “It must have been frustrating for you to deal with that.”
With my attention focused on making a rosebud-shaped knot, I nodded. “ So frustrating. Maybe my way wasn’t perfect, but it would have worked. I had a plan. He acts like I’m a kid he needs to rescue or something.”
Chloe propped her chin on her palm. “What do you think he wants to save you from?”
“Anything he doesn’t approve of, probably.” I heaved a sigh. “We used to be friends, you know. In high school. He wasn’t like this back then. He wasn’t overbearing and so damn bossy. Now that we’re not friends, this is all he is.”
Honestly, it wasn’t even only him. People sure did love to save me from my nonexistent problems. My mom. Jack. Fucking Brax, most of all. Like everyone thought I was too damn incompetent to be left to my own devices. Or worse, too fragile to face even the smallest inconvenience without having a breakdown.
It was infuriating when it came from my mother or Jack.
It was downright unbearable when it came from Brax.
“Tell me more about that,” Chloe said.
“Uh-uh.” I pointed the needle in her direction. “Don’t you go psychoanalyzing me. I’m onto you, Dr. Adams.”
Chloe laughed. “I have a ways to go before I’m doctor anything. Anyway, I’m not psychoanalyzing you, I promise. We’re just talking.”
Yeah. I didn’t believe that for a second. Chloe didn’t like to slap labels on things, and especially not people, so I knew she wasn’t sitting there, silently thinking daddy issues , even though we both knew damn well that’s exactly what I had. But she loved to understand . To figure someone out.
But right now, I didn’t want her to figure me out. Because if she did, she might discover that Brax was right. Maybe I was incompetent, wild, and fragile. I didn’t feel that way about myself, but when three of the smartest people I knew said otherwise, well…It gave me pause. Maybe I had fucked up. Maybe I had gone too far this time and needed someone to swoop in and save me from myself.
But I would be damned if I allowed Brax to be the one to do it.