Tin

CHAPTER TEN

RIKER

I lock the door and head back down the cobblestone driveway. This is the fifth house I’ve checked on so far, and I’ve got eight more to go before I can head home. I’m tempted to call Quinn and have her come out and meet me for the night. This time of year, almost all the rentals are booked, but I’ve got one that won’t be occupied again until next Friday. But an overnight trip out of town doesn’t sound like something you invite your fuckbuddy to do. And that is, after all, what she is. Or what she thinks she wants to be.

Climbing into the driver’s seat of my truck, I hear my phone vibrating on the dash. I don’t know why I can never remember to stick it in my fucking pocket. Maybe because I’m never expecting any calls I really want to answer.

I don’t even bother looking who it is.

“Yeah?”

“Nox is in trouble. You need to come. Now.” It’s Sid.

“What’s wrong?” I slam the door shut and start up the engine. Then I turn the key again and stop what I’m doing. I’m three hours out.

“He’s hurt. He got spooked out in the pasture and started running. Next thing I see, he’s falling, crashing into the ground at full speed. It was horrible, Riker. I couldn’t move. I just stood there, waiting and praying, hoping he would stand up again.” I can hear her sniffle. She’s crying. This is bad. Sid doesn’t cry. She just doesn’t. “I couldn’t take it. I had to make Harrold go check on him. I thought for sure he was lying out there dead. Broken neck. Something. But he’s not. He’s alive. Just in really bad shape.”

“What the hell happened, Sid? ”

“There was barbed wire hidden in the tall grass,” she wails. “I don’t know where it came from. Must have blown over from the neighbor’s during the last storm. There’s still half a fence post attached to it. The rest is wrapped around his legs. He can’t get up. I have no idea how badly he’s been hurt, and he won’t let anyone near enough to help him. Every time we try, he starts kicking his legs, tightening the wires around him more. It has to be you. You have to get here. Now.”

I drop my head to the steering wheel. This can’t be happening. “I’m out checking the properties. I’m three hours down the coast.”

Sid sucks in a loud breath. She’s counting on me. Nox is counting on me. My fucking grandfather is counting on me. Fuck me.

“Listen to me, Sid. You need to call Kirsten Bernheimer. Tell her to bring her sister down. Nox likes her. I don’t know why, but he does.” And right now she’s the only chance he’s got.

“Quinn? The cranky one who never smiles? When has she ever been around him?” I understand why she’s skeptical. Nox matters to her as well, but that’s precisely why she shouldn’t be wasting more time than necessary.

“Yeah. The cranky one. Just fucking call her. I’m telling you, she’ll be able to help him. At least until I get there.” This time, I hang up before she can argue with me anymore. I start the truck up again and back out of the driveway, still searching my phone for her name. She’s the last one in my contact list.

“I’m sorry, I don’t do barn calls. I’ll be over when you’re home. And showered.” Outside of her voice, there isn’t a single other sound on the line, and it occurs to me that I have no idea what she does all day.

“I’m calling about Nox.” I pause to merge into traffic. “He got tangled up in some barbed wire and won’t let anyone near him.”

“Shit.” I hear the squeak of an office chair .

“Look, I’m sure this is going to sound crazy, but I think you might be the only one who can help him. He doesn’t like people. He barely even tolerates me, but I’m three hours away. And he needs help now. And that day of Sophie’s party...he likes you. He’ll let you get close enough to help him.”

She’s quiet on the other end. Then there’s the sound of a door opening, and I hear her sister’s voice. “Quinn. Sidney called. They have a horse in trouble and for some reason they think you might be able to help?”

“I’m going to need to borrow the Beemer.” She gets back on the line with me. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. And I won’t even tell Sidney you called.”

“Thank you.” The line goes dead, and I throw the phone back onto my dash. Where I’ll probably find it again sometime tomorrow morning.

QUINN

“That was...amazing. It really was. I don’t even know how to thank you, Quinn.” But Sidney tries anyway by throwing her arms around my shoulders and drawing me in for an awkward hug. It’s only awkward because I’m not hugging her back. I should. I just suck at this stuff. By the time I manage to return the gesture, it only gets more awkward because she’s already letting me go.

“It was nothing. I mean, it’s just a fluke he happens to like me. I’m just glad he’s going to be alright.” By some miracle, Nox walked away from the incident with all of his bones still intact. His legs are cut up pretty bad, and there’ll be scarring, but the vet seems to think that’s the worst of it. Of course, he won’t know for sure until all the swelling goes down. There’s still a chance he has a sprain or damaged tendon; however, at this point, everything is treatable .

“Yeah. A fluke.” Sidney shakes her head like she’s still trying to make sense out of everything. “You know, once upon a time, he was a completely different horse. Then Old Willie died, and he was never the same. Only lets Riker handle him now.” She chuckles quietly. “And Riker hates him, so I guess Nox really does pick and choose the people he accepts randomly.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad he chose me.” I smile. Once upon a time, my Jazz had chosen me too.

Sidney’s still standing a bit closer than necessary after our little hug, when something catches her eye and she sidesteps me on her way to something, or someone else.

When I turn around, I find her holding tight to Riker, and he’s returning the hug. And it’s not at all awkward. Although, I suddenly really wish it was.

“He’s going to be alright,” she tells him, moving out of his embrace only to land at his side still holding onto him. She wipes her eyes, leaving dirt smears across her cheek from the sand and dust on her face and hands.

“I told you she’d be able to help him.” His eyes cut straight to mine. And that thing happens. That thing where two people can suddenly have entire conversations by exchanging a mere glance. And it freaks me the fuck out. Because those word-filled glances don’t happen to just anyone. They happen between people who know each other. Intimately. And not physically. Emotionally.

“Um, I’m going to go ahead and take off.” I start walking toward the large barn doors. It’s suddenly really crowded in here.

“Thanks again, Quinn.” Sidney reaches out and squeezes my arm as I go by. She’s really touchy feely, that one. I’m kind of surprised Riker doesn’t seem to mind it.

I’m all the way to the parking lot when I hear footsteps running up behind me. “Hey. Wait a sec. ”

I turn around and lean back against the Beemer. “What’s up, Cowboy?”

He smirks as his eyes narrow briefly. “You tell me, Boots.”

“Just trying to get out of your way so you and Sidney can handle your business.” I mean for it to sound casual. It doesn’t. It sounds like I’m jealous. And catty.

He takes a step closer and rests his hands loosely on my hips. He’s dressed unusually nicely today. No suit or tie or anything, but these jeans don’t have any dirt stains on them, and the fitted shirt he’s wearing is tucked in. With buttons. And it’s not made out of flannel. And now that he’s standing so annoyingly close, I can smell him. It’s not the usual straight from the shower soap scent. He’s wearing cologne. And Oh my GOD ! He smells good enough to eat.

“What’s going on in that twisted brain of yours now? Huh?” He tugs at my belt loops, bringing my hips in to meet his. Like I really need to get any closer to him right now.

“I don’t know. It seems like things are...overlapping. And I don’t like it.” I turn my head to keep from having to maintain eye contact. I’ll be completely at his mercy if I let those teal-blue eyes of his bore into me a second longer. I’m already not doing so hot in that department as it is.

He takes advantage of my face being turned away and moves in close beside my ear to whisper, “Getting confused, are we? Having...feelings?”

I press the side of my head into his and lower my face into the crook of his neck. “Just one.”

“And what’s that?”

I mold the rest of my body to him and let his arms take me in. “Hope.” And it’s both the best and most frightening thing I’ve experienced in a long time.

“Hope,” he repeats quietly. “I think hope is going to go a long way for us. ”

“It might never go anywhere other than here.” I start to step out of his embrace, but he stops me.

“Or it could take us to death do us part. That’s the thing about hope, Quinn. It comes with possibilities. And I like that. Whatever they are. I like knowing they exist.” He bends down and kisses the top of my head. Then he reaches for my door handle with one hand, while still holding me to him with the other.

“I’m going to finish up here, help Sid with the night feeding and then I’ll be home. You gonna be there?”

I unravel my way out of his arm and the safety of his broad frame and slide into the front seat of Kirsten’s car. “I’ll be there. Now that I don’t have to fake going for a run, I might even show up wearing something nice and girly like.”

“And yet another thing to hope for.” He winks and flashes me a mischievous grin, making me blush like a teenager. We’re flirting. And not dirty flirting, but cutesy flirting. It’s a whole new side of him. And it’s freaking adorable.

“Okay, you need to stop that right now.” My stern tone goes entirely to waste since I’m smiling from ear to ear. “Don’t get all sweet and charming with me now, mister. It won’t work. I already know you’re an antisocial asshole, so just stick with that. It makes me less wobbly in the knees and pink in the cheeks.”

He comes down into the car and kisses me square on the lips. Right there. In broad daylight. “Bye, Quinn.”

“Bye, jackass.”

He closes my door, still smirking, then taps the roof before he steps away from the car, giving me the final go ahead, and I take off, but not without watching him in the side mirror the entire drive down the driveway until I turn off on the main drag. And he stands there the whole time, watching me too .

When I get back to the house, Kirsten is in full-on dinner-making mode and Sophie is busy playing with her dolls in the family room just off the kitchen.

“Save the horse?” She’s staring at me expectantly over a pot of boiling spaghetti.

“Yep.” I plop down on one of the barstools across from her.

“Then why are you so mopey?” She sets down the wooden spoon she’s holding and comes to take a seat beside me. As soon as she reaches me, her nose crinkles in disgust. “You stink, by the way. Is that what’s depressing you? Because it’s definitely having an effect on my mood right now, I can tell you that.”

I lift my shirt up to my face and inhale. I smell fabulous. Like horses and fresh hay. “You’re crazy. This scent is amazing.”

“Quinn.”

“I don’t want to lose him.” I bury my face in my hands to avoid having to see whatever expression will show up on her following those words.

“Why do you think you’re going to lose him?” she asks calmly, and I venture a peek in her direction. She’s not mocking me or looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. She’s seriously asking.

“Because.” I let my hands fall into my lap. “We’re not together. But we’re something. And I think maybe he wants the something to become a together thing, only I don’t know if I can do together. I just know I don’t want to do apart. You know?”

Kirsten laughs. “Do I know? Jesus, Quinn. You don’t even know.”

“Thanks. That’s helpful. I’m really glad I opened up to you about this.” I go to get up but feel her hand on my elbow.

“You really want to know what I think?”

I turn around to look at her again. “Kind of. Tell me what it is first and then I’ll decide. ”

She grimaces but tells me anyway. “I think you want to have your Riker cake and eat it too. You’re used to having him all to yourself without having to invest any feelings or offer any kind of commitment, and that suits you just fine. And maybe it suits him too. Except now...now you’re having some sort of tingling sensation in the hollow hole in the pit of your chest that used to house your heart, and you’re starting to remember what it means to have feelings and you don’t like it. And now you don’t know which is worse. Leaving the man you want dangling out there for someone else to come along and snatch right out from under you—literally, given what the two of you do with your time— or taking a trip down memory lane to retrieve what’s left of yourself in hopes of someday handing it over to him.” She clicks her tongue at me. “I don’t know, Quinn. Tricky shit, this falling in love crap, when you claim you’ve no longer got a heart to do it with.”

“No.”

Her brow raises. “No, what?”

I press my bottom lip out into a pout. “No, I don’t want to know what you think.”

She shrugs. “Too late.” Then she has the audacity to laugh again as she climbs off of the barstool and returns to her pasta.

“I think I liked it better when you thought he was a redneck loser I needed to stay away from,” I grumble as I get up and start to stalk off.

“Oh, I see. You want to have your Kirsten cake and eat that too. Man, that’s like your thing now.”

I turn around before I reach the stairs. “Stop talking about cake. You’re going to ruin pastries for me altogether if you keep it up. And then what joys will there be left for me in this life?”

She giggles. “There’s always sausage. You do seem to be rather fond of that these days. ”

“You’re disgusting. And stop comparing Riker to food. It’s making me hungry.” I’m halfway through my door when I call back, “And not for your damn pasta!”

Harley greets me as soon as I walk in, and together we stroll out through the back, straight down to the sand where he spends the next twenty minutes chasing waves to his heart’s content. Days like today I watch him extra close, and I wonder how often he thinks of the night that changed us both. People like to remind me how time will heal me. How it will somehow mend all that is broken within, just by passing me by. But then I look at Harley. I see his missing limb and I think, no amount of time will ever bring it back. He will bear the scars and the loss of that night for the rest of his life. Why would I be any different? Why would time return what that night took from me? It wouldn’t.

Back inside, I finally decide to part with the scent I’ve thoroughly enjoyed these last few hours and jump in the shower. I pay an unusual amount of attention to detail today, and then scold myself for acting as if tonight will be the first time he’s ever seen me naked. Considering the circumstances surrounding our first time together, now is really a ridiculous time to start worrying about whether or not I missed a spot on my kneecaps while shaving my legs.

But I’m on a roll. So after I dry off I decide to dig through the old makeup case Kirsten passed down to me when I moved in here. I locate some hot-pink nail polish and have a go at my neglected toenails. For a split second, I consider doing my fingers as well, and then I remember whose hands they’re attached to and don’t bother. In twenty-two years, the only times I’ve ever had a fancy manicure were when Kirsten insisted on giving me one. So even if my efforts went unnoticed or wound up being deemed as insignificant by Riker, my sister would definitely see the unnatural aspect of my behavior and bust me for it .

However, since I did sort of mention looking more like a girl than a sweaty gym towel when I arrive tonight, I allow one last moment of vanity and put on a skirt. Nothing fancy. Just a denim cut-off mini with a long-sleeved tee and my boots. Still, it’s about as dressed up as I get, so I do kind of hope he appreciates it. Just as long as he doesn’t read anything into it. I’m sure he won’t. Just as sure as I am that I will. Because I’m a fucking wreck. I nearly change my clothes seven times before I’m back in outfit number one and force myself out through the front door to borrow Kirsten’s car for the second time today.

Parking in his driveway feels weird, and I’m tempted to drive back home and then walk back along the beach. But that would take forever. And I would definitely chicken out of wearing a skirt. So, I stay. Because that way I can make the skirt stay. At least until I get inside and Riker chooses otherwise.

I’m bending over inside the passenger seat, retrieving some items that fell out of my purse—yet another aspect of this evening that’s new and unfamiliar, given the fact that a purse doesn’t tend to go with running shorts—when I hear a loud whistle from behind. I stand up straight, nearly bumping my head on the car roof as I do.

“I like this look on you.” His hands glide smoothly down my hips and reach around to the front of my thighs as he comes up right behind me. “I like this look on you a lot .”

“Well, don’t get too used to it. At least not until I get my own car. Kirsten’s not going to let me hijack hers every night, so there will still be plenty of occasions I show up in my sweats.”

He turns me around to face him and greets me with a kiss. “I’m pretty sure you already know how fond I am of the way you look in your sweats.”

I smirk. “Can’t like ‘em too much. You pretty much rip them off of me the second I walk through the door. ”

“Mmhmm,” he murmurs, eyeing me up and down, this time from the front. “And don’t think for one second this little number will fare any better.”

And he’s not kidding. I’m barely through the door before I’m wondering why I bothered stressing so much about an outfit I literally only wore for the drive over here. Well, that and his reaction, which, honestly, was totally worth the anxiety.

An hour later and I’m wearing one of his t-shirts and sitting perched up on his kitchen counter watching him cook for the second night in a row. It’s just scrambled eggs, but still. I can’t not appreciate the effort.

“Can I ask you something?” He’s stirring the eggs, making sure the cheese he just added doesn’t burn and get all brown and crusty. “Something personal?”

“Since when do you ask my permission to ask me something personal? And while we’re on that, when have you ever asked me for permission period?” I rip off a piece of the tortilla he was planning to load my scrambled eggs into and shove it into my mouth.

“Good point. Forget I asked and just answer. What the hell do you do all day?” He’s turned toward me now, flinging his wooden spoon at me as part of his interrogation technique. It’s lacking, and I want to laugh at him, but I hold it in as best I can.

“What do you mean, what do I do? I spend all day staring at the clock and counting down the seconds until I can race over here and see you again.”

His lips are tightly pursed, and I know he’s not nearly as amused as I am. Although he’s also not nearly as put off by my sense of humor as he’d like me to believe. “I’m being serious. You know what I do. I want to know how you fill your time. And why you don’t need a car.” He cocks his brow on the second half of his statement. I guess anyone would wonder. It’s not like I never had a car. Just haven’t had a need for one in a while .

“First of all, I only sort of know what you do. For example, I’m still not clear on where you were today that it took you three hours to get back.” I’m stalling, but I also really want to know.

He takes the pan from the stove and starts fixing two plates for us. “You don’t sort of know what I do. You know exactly what I do. I help out Sid at the ranch and I take care of the rental properties. The Shepherdson Realty Group owns properties all up and down this coastline. Some are even out of state. Sometimes that means I have to drive a ways to check on things.”

“You have to take care of all of them?” For some stupid reason I’d thought it was just this one.

“Yep.” He places the empty pan in the sink and runs water over it before he comes back and hands me my dinner. He doesn’t sit down himself, just leans against the counter beside me. “Okay. Your turn.”

I tip my head back and forth between each shoulder a few times, debating on how detailed I want my answer to be. “Well, the reason I don’t need a car is because I work out of the house. I help run this website. I’m responsible for everything from answering emails, to writing content, to dealing directly with the public and offering them whatever assistance they require depending on their situation.”

He stares at me for a second, unimpressed, his tongue sort of stuck in the corner of his mouth. “That was vague.” He shakes his head, stabs a piece of egg with his fork, and then points it at me before he takes a bite. “Now try that again. And this time tell it like you want me to actually know what you do.”

Half of my face gives way to a smile. The other half is still perturbed by his need to override every single emotional barrier I’ve tried to put in his path since meeting him.

“Fine. I work with a nonprofit organization called Warriors for Women. We help women and children who deal with varying degrees of domestic abuse. We offer them everything from legal advice to counseling, and a few other services I won’t go into detail about. Everything is online and it’s all anonymous.” I don’t repeat what part I play in all of it, because I already covered it.

This time, he genuinely is impressed. “Wow, Quinn. That’s amazing. Is that something you always wanted to do? Or did your personal experience lead you there?” He’s asking a question to which he already knows the answer. He’s doing it because it would almost be awkward to assume. And even more awkward to say, “W ell, Quinn, that’s really admirable, but what did you really want to do with your life?” So I skip answering the first one and go right to the real question.

“When I was younger, I was really into the rodeo circuit. My mare and I were steadily working our way up to the big leagues in barrels. Horses. Rodeos. That was my life from the time I was five. Kind of always thought I’d do it until I was ready to settle down, have a ranch of my own, and raise a few babies and foals.” I shrug. “When that didn’t pan out, I switched gears completely. Got my bachelor's degree in social work and wound up working for Warriors.”

Riker’s watching me intently, hanging on every word I say. “So do you eventually want to be a social worker and be more hands-on?”

I shake my head. “I didn’t choose the degree to learn the job. I chose it to learn the system so I could work around it. Not with it.” I shrug. “But I do want to eventually be more involved in something. My own thing.”

He sets his plate down and smiles. “You already know what it is, don’t you?”

I nod. I haven’t told anyone. I can’t believe I’m going to tell Riker. “I’m working on putting together a program that would match up dogs in need of adopting with women in need of saving.”

“I’m intrigued. Let’s hear it.” And because his blue eyes are so damn beautiful and so damn focused on me, I tell him.

“It’s no secret that most women who are in abusive relationships tend to struggle with breaking the cycle. Even if they do muster up the courage to leave once, nine out of ten times they go back. The reasons are endless, and often seem just as minor and illogical to those on the outside as they seem life-and-death major and completely logical to those on the inside.” I’m tempted to expound on this. I really, really want him to understand why the inside looks so different, but I don’t. Because I don’t want him to ask me why I know what the inside looks like. “What I would like to do is work directly with women’s shelters. Bring in dogs that have gone through the shelter system and have been to the death chamber’s door and back and connect them with women who are just as desperate to stay alive as they are. So that if they go back, or when they go back... they don’t go back alone. They go back with a friend. The most loyal friend they’ll ever have. A friend who will fight for them when no one else is around to hear them cry for help.”

Riker’s not smiling anymore. His expression moves back and forth somewhere between sadness and anger, and his voice is a new kind of low when he asks, “Like Harley did for you?”

It’s not really a question. We both already know the answer is yes.

“He saved my life that day. Not just because he went after the man who was attacking me, but because he gave me the courage to fight back. He gave me something, someone, to fight for. Because I couldn’t do it for myself.” I move my plate out of my lap and stack it on top of his on the counter. Now that I’ve heard myself say it all out loud, I’m wondering if it’s kind of silly. Maybe the whole thing is a stupid idea and I just want it to be more so Harley’s sacrifice counts for more. I don’t know.

“Hey.” Riker’s hand slips under my chin, gently directing me to face him again. “You’re amazing. You know that? ”

I start to roll my eyes, but he catches me and shoots me a threatening glare. “Take a compliment, Quinn. Especially one that comes from me. I don’t hand that shit out to just anyone.”

“I just don’t feel all that amazing.” I pull my knees up to my chest, then rest my cheek on them. “But I think I might if I saw myself through your eyes,” I whisper. Because the way he looks at me, sometimes I think he’s face-to-face with something utterly remarkable. Like maybe he’s remembering something spectacular he saw once upon a time. Until I look again, and I notice how his eyes are locked directly on mine and I feel how they pull me in and pry me open, and I realize I’m the spectacular thing he’s seeing.

“Come here.” He takes my hands and helps me down from the counter. Then, without letting go, he leads the way out of the kitchen and through the small studio until we’re both standing in the bathroom facing the mirror. He’s behind me, his arms wrapped around my chest, his hands folded right in the center of it.

“See this, right here?” He’s putting pressure on my skin, right below my collarbone. “The first time I saw you interacting with Nox, I knew whatever was under here was exceptional, that you were special, because Nox doesn’t stand for ordinary. Then I watched you with your niece, and even though you were nervous and visibly uncomfortable trying to manage all those kids, you put your own feelings aside and focused only on hers. And I knew you were selfless.” He lowers his head down to mine, touching my cheek with his and brushing my skin with his soft stubble, and still staring straight ahead at the mirror. “Then I met Harley. And I saw how you view him. Not as broken. Or damaged. Or less. You look at Harley and you don’t see what he lacks physically. You see his strength and his courage. His unwavering fight for life. He’s your hero. You look at him and you see more dog than you’ll ever see looking at one with all of his limbs perfectly intact. And because you see him that way, you make other people see it too. ”

His words are making tears sting my eyes. I’m not even sure why. Because most of the things he just listed, while important to me, should mean nothing to him or anyone else. And yet they do.

Riker’s hands move down to my waist, and he brings me around to face him. “I saw the way you looked at Harley, and I knew you were different. And that’s just what I knew after one day with you. I knew you could see light where others see nothing but darkness. Only you can’t seem to see it in yourself. It’s a gift you only give to others.” He presses his forehead to mine and closes his eyes as he continues, “You know what the irony is, Quinn? Hearing you say you wish you could see yourself through my eyes, when all this time all I’ve wanted was to be the man you see through yours.”