Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
WHITNEY
Breakfast was fairly quiet, save for Ana asking a few questions here and there, and Brinley’s continuous babbling that made all of us laugh a time or two.
I realize the longer I sit inside Wyatt’s house, the more I fall in love with it.
The various open windows mixed with the cream walls and wood accents allows a deep, amber glow to illuminate the entire house.
It makes the space romantic and cozy. The living room is anything but simple.
It has a tall, ornate ceiling with a gorgeous chandelier right in the middle, along with a fireplace, a wooden coffee table, and a grey couch with a matching armchair.
Despite how luxurious the living room is, the kitchen is my favorite part of the house so far.
The long, wooden island matches the cabinets and plays host to a couple of black high-top chairs.
The counter tops are a deep, cement gray and there’s a window overhanging the sink area that is just ethereal.
It’s as long as the wall and it faces miles and miles of mountains and hills.
The lush, green mountains beyond are breathtaking, especially with the way the sun sets behind them.
It’s so easy to forget how beautiful Clover-Hills is when you live in the heart of the town.
“And most of my guys won’t be in until tomorrow.” Wyatt’s curt tone yanks me from my daydreaming. I clearly missed most of what he said, but I don’t ask him to repeat himself. He’s currently walking ahead of me, wearing a T-shirt and jeans despite how fucking cold it is this morning.
We parted ways with Ana and Brinley shortly after breakfast, with Ana promising to send a ton of pictures of Brinley. I’m a little anxious at being away from Brinley, not for any reason other than I already miss her. Which I know is silly, considering I spend the entirety of my days with her.
We walk past a few empty stalls, until we stop at one with a wooden stool next to it. Wyatt makes a clicking noise with his tongue, and shortly after, a big head appears above the stall door. The horse’s ears are pinned back at the sight of us.
“This is Maggie. She’s a pain in the ass.”
At that, Maggie makes a show of kicking the stall.
I pull out the stool resting beside the door, and stand on top of it to peer over.
I let out a low whistle at the sight. Maggie is gorgeous.
The type of horse younger me would’ve fought tooth and nail for.
She’s golden, but softer. More of a creamy gold, not bright gold.
She’s lean and muscular, with long legs and a chiseled head.
Her tail and mane are as vivid as the white stripe that runs from her forehead to her nose.
A thin scar arcs just above her left eye.
One look tells me she’s a racehorse, meant for speed and agility.
That alone explains the temperament.
A hollow feeling explodes in my chest. I used to love this life. I lived and breathed this life. Barrel racing, roping, training, vaulting. I’ve seen and done it all. And yet, I can’t even remember the last time I rode.
I notice there’s a good distance between her and the other horses.
Is she truly that difficult of a horse? She must bully her neighbors if she’s this isolated.
My hand yearns to reach out, to graze her gorgeous mane, but I refrain from doing so.
“Why?” I ask, breathless. Maggie’s ears twitch back and forth, and her eyes never leave me.
“Why, what?” Wyatt’s tone is much softer than it’s been all morning, so I crane my head to look at him, using the stall doors to balance myself–only to find he’s already looking at me.
I nod my head towards the horse, keeping my gaze locked with his. “Why is she a pain in the ass? What’s her backstory?”
Wyatt lets out a low grunt, but something like amusement shines in his blue eyes. “Gold star for knowing to ask, Winnie.”
I wait, giving him an expecting look. I really, really don’t care to play the teasing game with him right now.
He must see that, because he continues. “I don’t know the whole story, but I know she came from a shitty racing farm.
I’m guessing they pushed her too early—trained her hard before she was ready.
At some point along the way, she struck a handler.
He took it out on her so badly that she ended up with that scar.
Someone did a shit job at stitching her up and then threw her into an auction ring.
That’s how I found her. She’s been through a lot, but she’s a handful.
Unpredictable. Explosive, even. She really doesn’t like anyone or anything. ”
I run a tongue over my teeth, letting all of the information sink in. The speed at which the anger and grief course through me is so blinding that I need to take a long inhale of breath. I turn away from Wyatt and close my eyes. When I open them, I mutter, “Can’t say I blame her.”
It’s been a long time since I’ve done any training, but I already know what Maggie needs. I need her to trust me. To learn and trust that not all humans are like the ones who did this to her.
“Yeah,” Wyatt agrees. “Truth is, I’m not sure if she’ll even let you near her. But your job is to fix that. I’ll be back before dinner to check on you.”
My brows furrow and my head swings back in his direction. “You’re not staying?”
“Nah.” Wyatt smirks. “That horse fucking hates me.”