Chapter Fifteen
GRAY
THE SOFT fuzz of Felix’s nose bumps against my ear as I lead him to the stall I just cleaned and prepped for him so I can clean the one I just took him from. Warm air moves across my ear and cheek as he huffs his displeasure that he hasn’t been for a ride in a couple of days.
Normally I would show him more attention, but today I can’t get those amber eyes out of my head as she looked up at me like I saved her life instead of just wiped blood off her face.
And it’s pissing me off.
Not only did I feel like shit when she turned into the path I was in and reopened the cut over her eye, but then I made eye contact with her.
Before I even got to the kitchen, I could smell peaches in the air, and I told myself not to make eye contact.
It’s best to keep things civil and just pretend like we're strangers who happen to be staying in the same house.
Felix hooks his head over my shoulder, demanding attention, which makes me chuckle. I scratch his nose and lean my cheek against his jaw as I do.
“Sorry, boy, it’s a sheet of ice out there. I don’t think you would like it if you went out. Let’s see how it looks tomorrow, maybe me and Mason can throw some ice melt out for you.”
Even with my ice spikes on my boots, the walk down the hill from the house was a slow treck. Felix goes into the stall, but he huffs and bobs his head to show his chagrin, making me laugh. The fresh grain and hay grabs his attention, and he seems to forgive me for the time being.
Felix is an Appaloosa and was foaled by my favorite horse, Frost, about four years ago, he’s also one of our most gentle horses. It was Dad’s idea to keep him for Lainey Rai after Marley predicted he would be the perfect horse for her.
At the time, I hadn’t even considered keeping a horse specifically for Lainey Rai since she never got on one without an adult, but I’m glad I did. She has a way with the horses like her Aunt Marley, and Felix has definitely been perfect for her.
Tossing the muck shovel into the cart, I push it into the stall I just took Felix out of. I pull the empty water and grain buckets out of their holders and toss them out into the corridor to hose off in the grooming stall.
“What’d those buckets ever do to you?” Mason’s deep voice breaks through the quiet I’ve been enjoying.
He went to Marley’s stables about an hour ago to help her move the carts across the ice to the dumpster. I can’t say I’m looking forward to his smart-ass company right now.
“He’s been tossing things around for the past two hours, if you can get him to tell you why, let me know.” Dad yells from the tack room where he’s cleaning gear, his gravelly voice sounds even more rough when yelling.
Ignoring both of their comments, I straighten and turn to ask Mason, “Is Lainey Rai helping Marley?”
He leans against the stall door with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Yeah, they were cooing all over the mare that doesn’t like men.”
Turning away to clear a strip on the floor to wheel my cart, I grunt at him and start shoveling.
That horse hates men for the same reason some women hate men, she’d been mistreated for a long time.
She came to us with sores on her neck and back, one was full of puss, a matted mane and tail, and every time Mason or I got close, she would try to bolt, and the whites of her eyes would show the panic she was feeling.
It took all of a day before she was letting Marley touch her nose and another couple of days before she was approaching Marley for attention. She’s a beautiful horse, I’ve never understood how people can hurt such gentle, comical and majestic creatures.
They can also be sneaky when they want something.
Sort of like the little filly up in my house who smells like peaches and has amber eyes that look like whiskey through a crystal glass.
Goddamn it! I throw a shovel full of shit so hard it almost knocks the cart over.
I can’t be thinking about her beautiful smile or what those heart shaped lips would feel like.
There's also something in me that wants to shove her against the wall and sink into her, to feel her heat wrapped around me as I hear her moan. When I locked eyes with her earlier, I could see her attraction there, it was the same look I was giving her, and my cock twitched in my jeans.
Fuck!
“Damn, brother, if you don’t want to shovel the shit, I’ll do it. I don’t mind.”
I look over my shoulder at Mason, he’s still leaning against the door frame with the same grin, and I want to punch him in the nose. Last time Mason and I got into a real fight was shortly after he turned seventeen and thought his shit didn’t stink.
We were tossing bales of hay out of the hayloft in the barn when we got into it and started throwing punches and tussling, we ended up knocking over some of the bales Dad had painstakingly stacked earlier in the season and making a huge mess in the loft.
Dad was pissed.
By the time we completed the list of things Dad told us we had to clean as punishment, it was well into the night. We didn’t have dinner, and we were sweaty, dirty, covered in hay, and blood was smeared across both of our faces from our earlier tussle and wiping sweat.
The irritation I felt with him that day is the same irritation I feel now, but it’s not because of him, and I have to remind myself of that.
“Why don’t you make yourself useful and toss some ice melt out in the paddock so we can let some of them out for a while tomorrow.” I growl and turn back to my task.
“Does the smoke pouring out of your ears have anything to do with the belle up in the house and the way you were looking at her?” He asks, and I freeze for half a second, but I don’t acknowledge the question before I resume what I’m doing.
As he walks away, in typical Mason fashion, he is chuckling to himself for getting a rise out of me.
Fucking shit-heel.
The rest of the day, I manage to keep to myself, but that doesn’t mean Mason is done being the annoying asshole he is. I love my brother, but today I miss when he lived closer to his Team in Tennessee.
It wasn’t until he met Sloane that he moved back home a few months ago. We called him home because Dad had his heart attack, I’ve suspected the harassment at the hands of the ‘Royce’ company might be part of what brought that on.
Just another reason that woman shouldn’t be in our house.
My aggravation pushes me through the day and even fuels the completion of some projects I've been putting off for a few weeks, hell, even some I’ve been avoiding for a few months. One of those projects was replacing the hinges on the feed buckets in some of the stalls.
“It’s dinnertime, son,” Dad says behind me.
I don’t turn around or stop what I’m doing. “I’ve got a couple more and I’ll be up, start without me.”
He’s quiet behind me for a moment, and then I hear a sigh. “I’ll let Hallie know to put a plate in the oven for you if we need to.”
The only response he gets is a grunt of agreement.
When I get the last hinge attached, which is in Frost’s stall, I stand up and push my hat back a bit to let in some cool air. The heaters in the stables are set at a lower temperature to keep the inside temperature above freezing, but even in forty plus degrees, I’m still hot.
I’ve had Frost for almost ten years, I fell in love with her when I first saw her. Her shiny gray coat is the reason for her name, it almost shimmers like frost on the rooftops in the fall.
The whole time I’ve been working in her stall, she’s been playfully nipping my coat collar and nudging my neck.
Her playful nature always helps to lift my spirits, and today is no exception.
I turn to her and give her some attention before I go up to the house, scratching her nose before I take my hat off and set my forehead against hers for a minute.
I glance at the clock on the wall in the tack room. Dinner was over an hour ago, it looks like I’ll be reheating my dinner and eating at the kitchen island.
When I get into the mudroom, I unstrap the spikes from my boots and hang my hat and coat up on the pegs next to the door.
Laughter in the kitchen has me peeking around the corner to see my daughter and Elly at the kitchen island, each with a mug of hot cocoa in their hands. The only light in the room is from the oil lamp sitting on the breakfast nook table.
“Some of the springs are so warm you can get in them even when it’s cold outside. Papa says they help his joints when they get stoved up, sometimes he lets me go with him.”
“I’ve only ever seen the springs at Yellowstone National Park, but no one is allowed to touch them.” Elly pauses and takes a sip of her cocoa. “I think some of them are so hot they can burn.”
Lainey Rai sucks in an excited breath, apparently extremely happy with the conversation. “I read about that, they say they can boil you to death, like boiling an egg or something.”
Elly laughs, and my heart squeezes at the sound.
It’s a carefree, happy laugh, and when my daughter’s laugh joins hers, guilt crushes me because I wonder if she misses having her mama around.
Of course, she has all the women in the house taking care of her and I know my sisters love her like she’s their own, but it’s not the same.
Not wanting to disrupt their conversation, but still nervous about her being with my daughter alone, I step around the corner. Lainey Rai’s face lifts and her smile lights up the darkened room.
“Hi, daddy.”
I’m daddy again and some of the weight lifts from my shoulders.
I walk to her and squeeze the back of her neck as I kiss the top of her head. “Hey, pumpkin. Hot cocoa?”
The motion is slight, but from the corner of my eye, I see Elly’s body stiffen.
My eyes cut to her and the smile is on her face, but the carefree way of it is gone and she is lining up the salt and pepper shakers in front of the napkin holder that sits in the middle of the island.
I’ve noticed she fiddles with things when she’s nervous and I wonder if I make her nervous.
“Yep. Sloane made us some before Uncle Mason made her go upstairs,” she shrugs her shoulders, “since he’s leaving tomorrow.”
I’m glad she’s still young enough I don’t have to explain why.
“Oh yeah? Well, it’s a good night for it.” I look at the clock on the wall. “It’s almost bedtime. Will you check the upstairs fireplaces and let me know if they need anything before you get ready for bed? I’ll be up to check in on you in just a bit.”
“Ugh…” She rolls her eyes as she slides off the stool. “Okay, dad.”
And I’m dad again.
I wait until I hear her footsteps on the stairs before turning back to Elly. “You okay?”
Avoiding my eyes, Elly bobs her head in an exaggerated, but practiced nod, her eyebrows pulling together. It feels like she is used to pretending everything is fine. Her shoulder length waves bounce a little with the motion, they look soft and I want to touch them.
“Oh, yeah. Yeah. I’m fine.” Her voice is chipper, but she keeps her gaze on the cup in her hands, the forced smile is on her face. That smile seems to always be there, like a mask.
Something deep inside me, something I haven’t felt in a long time, bubbles up and I reach out and lightly grasp her chin between my knuckle and thumb. She doesn’t fight me when I tilt her head up and make her look at me. “You okay?”
Her eyes are glassy and she blinks at me. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a good father?”
The question catches me off-guard, and I’m taken aback, not sure what to say. Warmth spreads through my chest as I look into the prettiest brown eyes. I slide my thumb across the edge of her bottom lip and wonder what it would feel like to kiss her.
Realizing I may have crossed a line, I start to pull my hand away, but she wraps her fingers around my wrist and won’t let me.
“She doesn’t realize it now, not yet anyway, but she’s very lucky.
Not all fathers out there are good.” Her voice is soft, and she nods her head again, the smile on her face is real. “You’re a good father.”
What kind of childhood could she have had to get choked up by seeing me show affection to my daughter? What kind of man allows his daughter to feel unloved? Starved for affection?
The kind that holds no reservation for trying to steal a home from a family for his own financial gain. The same part of me that protects my family wants to pull her to me and hold her until the light is back in her eyes, but I smother the urge, my eyes locked on hers.
Even in the low light of the oil lamp, we are close enough I can see the gold flecks in her eyes. We stay like that as the seconds draw out, and I hear footsteps come into the kitchen. We both freeze and turn our heads to see Marley walk through the door.
A sharp intake of air and Marley says, “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry, I didn’t think anyone was in here.” She turns and quickly leaves the room, and then I hear her footsteps hurrying up the stairs.
Shit.
What am I doing?
Our eyes meet again, and I take a deep breath. “I need to go check on Lainey Rai.”
She nods, her eyes volley between mine as neither of us moves for a moment. “Okay.”
As I’m walking away, I discreetly adjust my cock that is threatening to bust through my damn zipper.