Chapter 12
12
Essie
“W
hy are you looking at me like that?” My gaze swept from Brax to Zack and back again. Both of them were sizing me up like Zack needed an organ transplant and mine might be the right fit. “I don’t think I like it.”
“Oh, honey. You’re gonna hate it.” Zack flashed a mischievous grin and then immediately slapped a hand to his split lip. “Ow. Goddammit.”
Despite the fact that he was clearly plotting my demise with my enemy, I took pity on him. I dug into my bag and pulled out a small pot of coconut oil and a tube of Aquaphor. “Move your hand,” I instructed.
I sat next to him on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle his leg, and scooped out a smidge of coconut oil. I rubbed it between my fingers until the cream became a liquid and then dabbed it gently on his lips. I followed that with a dollop of Aquaphor. It was my own personal remedy for cuts, burns, and the cracked lips that came with living in a dry-ass climate.
“The coconut oil is for healing, and the Aquaphor is for protecting,” I explained. “How does it feel?”
He smacked his lips together a few times, testing it. “Better. I can move my mouth without crying now. Thanks.”
“I’ll make a kit for you.”
“If you two are done playing sexy nurse, can we please have a serious conversation about Pirate?” Brax asked, sounding annoyed.
Zack gave me a knowing smirk. I knew what he was thinking. Last year, Zack and I had indulged in a little flirtation. Not a big deal, because truthfully, Zack had a little flirtation with every woman he came in contact with between the ages of twenty-one and sixty-one. I had it on good authority that Zack was a fun way to spend a night, but he had nipped my advances in the bud, on account of the man currently glowering at us like he wouldn’t mind pulling us apart with his bare hands.
But Zack had it all wrong, both then and now. Brax didn’t care who I fucked. He just didn’t think I was good enough for his little brother, that was all. Hell, he didn’t think I was good enough for anyone.
I twisted my torso to bat my eyelashes at Brax over my shoulder. “Ohhh, you think I’m sexy?” I asked in a sing-song voice.
Brax scowled. “If you think a snotty nose is sexy, then sure, because that’s exactly what’s going to happen to my brother if you keep sharing beauty products with him. He doesn’t need a virus on top of a broken leg.”
“Stop being such a prig. I’m not going to get Zack sick. I haven’t had so much as a cold since Thanksgiving, and I always replace my stuff when I get sick. Anyway, I used the hand sanitizer right outside the door before I came in. So there.” I almost stuck out my tongue at him, but I remembered what he said about that and kept my tongue safely tucked inside.
His gaze dropped to my mouth like he was remembering, too. When he licked his lower lip, I swallowed hard. I was this close to showing him mine, just to see what he would do about it.
“Jesus Christopher Christ,” Zack grumbled. “If you two could stop eye fucking each other when I’m a trapped audience on account of this fucking leg, I’d be much obliged. I’m a human being, dammit. I have inalienable rights to not see this shit.”
“It’s not eye fucking,” I said. “It’s eye loathing.”
“Loathing, huh?” Zack rubbed the three-day growth of stubble on his chin. “Well, that’s gonna make this conversation real awkward, then.”
“What conversation is that?” I asked warily, looking between the two brothers again. Something was definitely up.
“The one where we talk about Pirate’s future.” Brax folded his large body into the small red plastic chair, looking only slightly ridiculous. He rested his elbows on his knees, which were drawn up almost to his chest, and leaned forward.
My brows pushed together in a frown. Now I was good and worried. Had something happened to Pirate while we were all preoccupied with Zack? “What about it?”
“We’re eight weeks from the competition. There’s no way Zack’s leg will heal by then. Without a rider, we’ll have to pull Pirate from the show.”
I let out a breath. Pirate’s career had obviously taken a backseat to my concern for Zack. As much as I loved that fucking horse, I had grown up with the Hale brothers. In that terrible moment when I had heard the bone snap, I had known what it meant for Pirate’s future, but all I cared about was that Zack was okay.
“Shit, is that all?” I asked. “Jesus, Brax, you nearly gave me a heart attack. Of course we’ll have to pull him from the show. It’s not ideal for Pirate, but it’s not career-ending, either. And hopefully it won’t be career-ending for Zack, either.”
“Thanks,” Zack said drily. He leaned back on the pillow and closed his eyes. “Damn, I’m tired. These pain meds are crazy. ”
“It’s not career-ending for Pirate, but it’s a pretty big setback,” Brax said. “You know as well as I do that there’s a difference between competition stallions and breeding stallions, and horses don’t work like light switches. You can’t turn it on and off.”
I knew what he was referring to. Stallions had a limited window to prove themselves in the competition ring, if the owner intended to use him for breeding down the road. The behavior expectations for showing were different than breeding. Stallions were supposed to keep their sex drive locked down in the ring. Mares would be present, and a stallion couldn’t go dropping dick, vocalizing, or trying to mount other horses. It wouldn’t be safe for the horses or their riders.
That didn’t mean it was impossible to show a stallion in the ring, and in some ways, it mimicked the behavior of wild horses. Horses were pack animals by nature. They hated being alone—a good thing, too, because there was safety in numbers. But harems—groups of mares and their foals—were led by one stallion and one stallion only. Males were run off the herd when they weaned. These males either stole a harem of their own from another stallion or formed bachelor herds with other males.
The thing about these bachelor herds was that eventually, without a way to procreate, they became sterile. It was a use-it-or-lose-it scenario. And the same was true of a stallion that had spent years behaving a certain way for competition. Eventually, they weren’t good for anything else. Most stallions intended for breeding only spent two or three years in competition first, so it was important to make the most of those years.
“The futurity is a big deal,” Brax said like I didn’t already know. “There’s no bigger payout for three-year-olds. Next year, he won’t be eligible.”
“Okay,” I said slowly. “So we pull him from the non-pro and enter him in the open class, with Adam riding.” I knew James wasn’t an option, since she’d already be riding for a client.
“That’s one possibility. We could enter him in the open class, but he’d be competing against horses who have a solid year of training under their saddles instead of a couple months. I’m not saying he doesn’t have what it takes to win, but it’s a bigger risk. Don’t you want him to have the best possible start?”
I blinked at him, baffled. Why the hell was he asking me that? I wasn’t purposefully holding Pirate back from success. It wasn’t my fault Zack got bucked off and stomped. “Of course I want that. We all want that. But what are we supposed to do about it? The only person who can ride in the non-pro category is the owner or immediate family of the owner. Your dad’s not in competition shape, and Ben’s not ready for that yet. Are you going to ride?”
“I think we both know that’s not the best idea. I’m a decent rider, but I’m not a competitor. I’ll do it as a last resort, but honestly, putting him in open competition with Adam riding would be a better option.”
“Then we’re back to that,” I said bluntly, annoyed that the conversation had circled right back to where we had started. “You’re out of relatives, Brax. There’s no way around it.”
Zack cracked one eyelid open and smirked, courtesy of my lip balm. “There might be a way around it.”
I eyed him suspiciously. “What do you mean?”
“It’s right there in the definition of immediate family. Spouse, parent, spouse’s parent, partner’s parent, stepparent, legal guardian, child, stepchild, sibling, sibling’s spouse, sibling’s partner, half sibling, stepsibling, aunt, uncle, grandmother, and grandfather.” Zack rattled off the list like he had been waiting for that question. “We just need to find a spouse. A woman who happens to be a damn fine rider would be ideal. Know anyone?”
I wrinkled my nose. Surely Zack couldn’t be suggesting what I thought he was suggesting. I turned to Brax for confirmation. Or better yet, for him to unequivocally refute it. “You…you want me to marry Zack?”
The expression on Brax’s face reminded me of a thunderstorm moving over the mountains, dark and lethal. “You’ll marry Zack over his dead body.”
“Hey!” Zack protested. “What the fuck, man? Why do I have to be the one to die?”
Brax’s icy blue gaze cut to his brother. “You’re already battered and broken. I’m still all in one piece. I have too much to live for.”
“It doesn’t even make sense,” Zack muttered. “How can she marry me if I’m dead?”
“She can’t,” Brax said. “That’s the point.”
“No one’s dying,” I cut in, exasperated. “And no one’s getting married, either.”
Brax exchanged a long look with Zack. My heartbeat skittered like a nervous foal. If they weren’t talking about Zack, then that meant… No . Absolutely fucking not.
“Tell him, Brax.” My voice was an octave past shrill. “Tell him what a ridiculous idea this is.”
He paused for a beat, then shrugged. “It might be worth considering.”
I choked on a shocked laugh. “It is not worth considering. Have you lost your damn mind?”
“It makes sense, if you think about it. Do you have a better idea?”
“Giving up horses and moving to Antarctica to train polar bears to do flying lead changes and sliding stops would be a better idea,” I snapped.
“Penguins,” Brax said.
“Now, even I know that doesn’t make a lick of sense. How you gonna ride a penguin?” Zack asked.
“Penguins live in the Antarctica. Polar bears live at the North Pole,” Brax explained. “So either you need to train penguins in Antarctica, or you need to train polar bears in the North Pole. You can’t mix and match.”
I stared at him.
He stared back.
“I hate you,” I said with feeling.
He looked the tiniest bit regretful. “I know, hellion.”
“Whatever.” I grabbed my bag and made for the door. “I’m going to get Zack coconut oil and Aquaphor. The next time I see you two clowns, you better have come to your senses.” I paused half out the door and leveled Brax with my best disappointed look. I’d seen it often enough on Mom to know how. “Zack is on pain killers, so I’m willing to give him a pass. But there’s no excuse for you.”
“Think it over,” was all he said.
I shook my head. The fuck I would.