Chapter Twenty-Three
Caine
I know that words matter. But never did I think those two words would be so misinterpreted. Seeing the pain Mikayla was in, it felt as though it were my pain. My heart ached for her.
When she stood and walked away from me, it was a whole other level of fear that I felt. She misunderstood me. A part of me thinks she hadn’t actually misunderstood. A part of me thinks she foresaw it, heard what she expected, accepted it, and just ran away out of fear.
Man, did she bolt! Like a bat outta hell! She ran from me, all while crying. I could hear the sobs coming from her, and it gutted me.
When she says she needs me, I know she doesn’t mean sex. I know she means me. It’s something we can’t name, something we can’t touch, but I feel it too. She feeds something deep inside me that has been barren and empty for so long.
“The good news is I think this is as crazy as I’ll ever get,” she says with a self-deprecating laugh.
“I’m here to hold you no matter what,” I say, and I mean it.
My stomach grumbles, and I’m not sure if Mikayla heard it or felt it, but her smile grows wider before a giggle escapes her lips.
“I’m hungry,” I admit with a shrug.
What do I care?
I place Mikayla on the ground and get to my feet. I extend my hand, and she readily accepts it. With her against my side, we begin to stroll back to the clearing when Mikayla peeks up at me with a sideways grin.
Then she bolts!
“Last one there has to give the winner a massage!” she yells, her hair billowing in the wind behind her.
That girl might be tiny, but, fuck, can she sprint! I’m in my work boots that feel about ten pounds, but I’m no quitter! I swing my arms and lift my knees as I catch up to her. My strides are about three feet to her one. In no time, I’m in front of her.
“What the fuck!” I yell, then begin to laugh when Mikayla leaps onto my back!
“That was amazing!” she giggles as I slow down, walking to our little picnic.
“You owe me a massage!” I humph, breathing hard.
“Nope!” she laughs. “We tied!”
“Like hell, little cheater!” I yell, dropping her onto the blanket before sinking to the ground beside her.
“You have to admit, that was pretty epic!” she says as I remove our bread and pour more wine.
“I admit nothing,” I say, but I can’t keep in my grin.
The rest of our picnic goes much better. The sun is shining and warm, and Mikayla’s smile comes naturally as we talk about nothing and everything.
I try to stay attune to her reactions to topics. I don’t want her feeling the sadness she gets when we talk about her dad, though inevitably he comes up when we talk about her brother Jack.
“You think he’ll come here to visit you?” I ask as I put the leftovers away.
“Visit me?” she asks. “I…” she blushes, but a hint of a smile appears. I can see she’s unsure.
“I don’t want you to leave,” I tell her. I lay it all out there.
“Caine, we just met. I don’t want to leave, but I mean, I need a job and a place to live.”
“My place…”
Mikayla raises her hand to stop me. “I can’t move in with you.”
I frown. I know what she’s thinking. It’s too soon; we’re moving too fast. I don’t give a shit! I want her with me.
“I’ve never been on my own. I’ve never been independent. I have to do this for me.”
“If I can find you a job, here. And help you find your own place, would you stay?” I ask matter-of-factly.
I hate the idea of her living in another place. But if it means she’ll stay…
“I’m sure this town is swimming in nursing jobs,” she jokes, raising a brow as I stand with her and walk to Wind-Song.
“I happen to be best friends with the town doctor, and he needs a nurse for his family practice.” I half-lie. “And we have studio apartments here on the ranch when employees need housing.” Not a lie!
Mikayla doesn’t say anything. She just stops walking and looks at me. Her lips are pursed.
“Is there really a job?” she asks skeptically.
“I will confirm that he’s looking and not influence his decision, I promise,” I say, half lying again.
What? Of course I’m gonna tell him to hire her. Kyle will do what he wants in the end, but that doesn’t mean I won’t try to exert some pressure. I’ve known him for thirty-five years! I’m pretty sure our friendship can withstand it.
“And there really is an available studio apartment?”
“Yes, we have three available as we speak. The other guys live in the larger house we have on the ranch; they opted to all live together,” I assure her.
“No one will be moving,” I confirm, completely honest. At least in this I can reassure her.
“Now, for your first riding lesson,” I announce as I untether Wind-Song.
“Right now?” she asks as I adjust the stirrups for her short legs. I walk around the horse and adjust the other side.
“Is there another problem with you right now?” I ask.
“I mean, I just ate. Isn’t there like a waiting period after you eat?” she asks, her eyes wide.
“That’s swimming, and it’s an old-wives’ tale,” I say. “Which you know, so stop stalling,” I add, walking over to her.
I walk Wind-Song over to a tree stump that still needs to be removed. I may keep it since it seems to be a good height for Mikayla.
“Stand here. Place your right foot in the stirrup and swing your left leg over the saddle. Hold on to this part here,” I instruct, pointing to the horn. I step to the side and spank her ass for just standing there.
“Ouch!” She swats my hand away. So, naturally, I spank her again for good measure. “You’re ornery,” she complains, but her voice is husky.
“Get on the horse, Mikayla.” I know I’m being stern, but she needs to get out of her head.
I stand there and watch her take in several breaths while she holds the horn and back of the saddle, as though she’s preparing for a fight.
“What scares you?” I ask her, laying a soft hand on the top of her head.
“I don’t even know!” she says. “What if he does that thing I saw and I fall off?”
My brow furrows in confusion. “What ‘thing you saw?’” I ask, having no idea what she’s talking about.
“Pat was showing me around, and there were riders in like a pen or something, and the horse lifted his front legs, and the guy fell off!” she says in horror.
Well, fuck you, Patrick!
“First off, she lifted her front legs, not he. Our broncs are mares, not gelding.”
Mikayla looks at me like I’ve grown a second head. I shake the one I have and smile at her.
“Never you mind,” I say, swatting her ass again because I can and because I want to. Her reaction is addicting.
“Stop doing that!” she growls. I grab her wrist and pull her to me.
“Does it turn you on?” I ask, tilting her chin up so I can kiss her.
“Caine,” she says, her voice deep before I kiss her.
Hard, deep, and fast. I take her mouth and devour her. The moment I feel her respond, I pull back and spank her again.
“What is the matter with you?” she chastises.
“Get on the horse, Mikayla!” I demand instead of explaining.
Obviously, this isn’t a teaching technique I’ve ever tried before, but distraction from her fear is what I’m aiming for.
“She won’t lift her legs?” Mikayla asks.
“Wind-Song wasn’t trained for bronc riding, Mikayla. He won’t buck on you, I promise,” I assure her. “He’s a middle-aged man,” I add.
Mikayla takes in a deep breath, places her foot in the stirrup and mounts the horse perfectly. I place a hand on her thigh and smile up at her.
“I could get used to being taller than you,” she says with a grin.
“I’m sure,” I say with a smile. “Now get down.”
“What! I just got on him,” Mikayla says with a frown. “Do you have any idea how much courage it took for me to get up here? And now you want me to get down?”
“Yep,” I say, patting her thigh. “I’m not gonna be lifting you up and down for the rest of your life. You need to learn how to do this yourself. Now, put your right foot in the stirrup, lift your left leg and dismount,” I instruct.
“You suck,” she mutters under her breath as she easily dismounts. “Tada!” she says when her feet are on the tree stump, showing me jazz hands, sticking her butt out.
“Now get back on.”
“I think you just want to see if I’ll do whatever you tell me to do.” I see her roll her eyes. But this time, she easily mounts the horse.
“Grab the reins with your right hand, leave ‘em slack. Squeeze your thighs together, push your calves into him lightly and tighten your core,” I instruct.
Wind-Song begins to walk slowly. I stand to the side and watch.
Mikayla turns around in a panic, pulling the reins and Wind-Song stops.
“You can’t seriously just stand there and let me go!” Mikayla yells, wide eyes full of fear.
“Mikayla, you aren’t riding a bike; your balance is fine. He’s walking. Stop being a baby and go for a walk. Steer him with the reins. I promise, it’s easy. Want to go left, move them left; right, move them right.”
“Fine. If I die, I’m coming back to haunt you.”
“Be mindful and don’t joke about that! I don’t find it funny!” I snap.
I don’t know why, but my reaction came out of nowhere. That was not funny! Her smile falters, and she looks at me with a slight tilt to her head. Her beautiful, perfect head! Her joke hit me wrong.
“Sorry, I just…” I trail off because I don’t know what to say.
“I was kidding,” she says. “Well, sort of! But you can’t get rid of me that easily.” Then I watch her ride off.
Once I have everything packed away, I drop the basket on the ground and look over and see Mikayla leaning forward, patting Wind-Song on the neck. I can see she’s talking to the horse, but I don’t read lips. I smile because she doesn’t look scared at all. In fact, Mikayla looks happy.
“We need to head back and shower,” I tell her when she’s close enough to hear me.
I see she’s more confident because she gives the horse a little something and he picks up his pace. Mikayla bounces a bit as Wind-Song moves into a trot.
“Your bronc awaits,” Mikayla says when she stops.
“Our broncs are female, you goof. Wind-Song is a stallion,” I say, handing her the basket.
“Whatever!” she says flippantly, rolling her eyes.