Chapter Thirteen
“I know you’re full,” she said.
“How bad?”
“Bad enough that I wouldn’t call otherwise.”
I was already pulling on boots.
“How many can travel?”
“Seven tonight. Two need stabilization first.”
“Bring the seven.”
Tessa, standing in my kitchen doorway in pajamas and a parka, said, “We have three quarantine stalls.”
“We’ll convert the north shed.”
“Heat?”
“Portable units.”
“Fencing?”
“Panels.”
“We have six.”
“We need twenty.”
She looked at me. I looked at her. There was one place within twenty miles that owned enough portable panels to build a quarantine lane at ten o’clock at night.
“Don’t say it,” I warned.
“I didn’t.”
“Your face did.”
“Call your husband.”
I hated that she was right. I called. Beckett answered on the second ring, voice rough with sleep.
“Mara?”
“I need something.”
He was instantly awake.
“What?”
“County seizure. Seven horses coming tonight. We need portable panels, at least twenty, and two safe heaters for the north shed. I can rent them from Halvorsen if you have them available.”
“Yes.”
No questions about the marriage. No satisfaction that I needed him.
“I’ll have—”
He stopped himself.
“Do you want delivery, or do you want to pick them up?”
I closed my eyes briefly.
“Delivery. Fast as possible.”
“Okay. Anything else?”
I looked at Tessa. She mouthed, trailers.
“Two stock trailers on standby in case June needs help with the other horses tomorrow. Commercial rental.”
“Done.”
“Invoice Harlow Creek.”
A pause.
“Mara—”
“Invoice Harlow Creek.”
“All right.”
He did not argue. Forty-five minutes later, a Halvorsen flatbed came through the gate carrying panels and heaters. Beckett drove it himself. I should have expected that. He climbed down wearing jeans, boots, and a coat thrown over a thermal shirt.
“Where do you want them?”
Not Can I help? Not I thought you needed me. Where. I pointed.
“North shed. Tessa is marking the lane.”
“Got it.”
For the next hour, Beckett worked under Tessa’s direction. She enjoyed this far too much.
“Panel there,” she ordered.
“This way?”
“Other way. You may own three hundred million dollars of agricultural assets, but apparently you cannot identify a hinge.”
“It’s dark.”
“Excuses.”
He looked at me once over her shoulder. I shrugged.
“You came voluntarily.”
His mouth twitched. At 10:06, the county trailer arrived. Humor disappeared. The first horse off was a dun mare with ribs like barrel hoops and rain rot across her back. The second had overgrown hooves so severe he walked as if every step were an argument.
The third was a yearling colt with a rope burn around his poll. I stopped seeing Beckett as my husband. He became another set of competent hands. He held gates. Carried water.
Moved slowly when a horse panicked. Asked June before touching anything. When the dun mare balked at the quarantine lane, he stepped back without being told and let me take over. By midnight, all seven were settled. Tessa made coffee in the barn office.
June sat on a feed bag and dictated medical notes into her phone. Beckett leaned against the wall, mud to his knees. I handed him a paper cup.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“For not taking over.”
He looked at me over the rim.
“It was difficult.”
I laughed.
“I know.”
“Tessa enjoyed my suffering.”
From across the room, Tessa said, “Correct.” June did not look up from her phone.
“If everyone is done flirting, the bay gelding needs another temperature in twenty minutes.”
“We’re not flirting,” I said automatically.
Beckett said nothing. That irritated me more than if he had agreed. I looked at him. He was trying not to smile.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Your face says something.”
“Apparently faces are unreliable witnesses in this county.”
I kicked his boot lightly with mine before I could stop myself. The contact was tiny. It went through me like current. His eyes dropped to my foot, then lifted to my face. The room changed.
Not dramatically. No one else noticed. But after weeks of anger and careful distance, my body remembered him all at once. The warmth of his shoulder in bed. The shape of his hand at my waist.
The exact way he used to look at my mouth before kissing me. I stepped back. His expression sobered immediately. No pursuit. No teasing.
That made it worse. At one thirty, the barn finally quieted. June left. Tessa disappeared to sleep on the farmhouse couch because she refused to drive home. Beckett walked with me toward his truck.
Snow had begun to fall, soft flakes turning the yard silver under the security lights.
“I’ll send the invoice for the equipment tomorrow,” he said.
“Thank you.”
“At cost.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“Commercial rate.”
“Our commercial rental division rents to ourselves at cost.”
“You don’t have a commercial rental division.”
“We could create one.”
“Beckett.”
He laughed.
“Fine. Market rate.”
“Good.”
He reached the truck door, then stopped.
“Mara.”
“Yes?”
“Tonight mattered to me.”
My chest tightened.
“Because I needed you?”
“No.”
His answer came fast.
“Because you asked for something without apologizing.”
I stared at him. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets.
“You used to say ‘sorry’ before asking me to do anything that interrupted work. Even when it was something I should have been doing anyway.”
I looked down at the snow gathering on my boots.
“I didn’t know I did that.”
“Neither did I.”
He was quiet for a moment.
“I liked being able to help tonight. But if you never need me again, I’m trying to become a man who can survive that.”
My eyes burned.
“That’s a strange thing to say to your wife.”
“You’re my wife. You’re not supposed to be my proof that I’m useful.”
The words landed deeper than he probably knew. I took one step closer. Not enough to touch. Enough to smell snow and coffee on him. His eyes moved to my mouth.
There it was again. Eleven years of knowing exactly what came next. I wanted it. That frightened me. I stepped back.
Beckett exhaled slowly.
“Goodnight, Mara.”
No resentment. No wounded pride.
“Goodnight.”
I watched his taillights disappear, then went back to the horses. Feeding them was easier than naming what I wanted.