CHAPTER FIFTEEN
WEST
I’M ANTSY, SO I HEAD TO THE BARN AND START WORKING MY WAY THROUGH the horses. Grooming each one meticulously from head to toe. It’s therapeutic, taking them from dusty to shiny. Dull hooves to richly oiled.
Tangled mane to perfectly flowing.
My brain feels full, more so than usual, so I let it wander as I gently scrub circles on Copper’s coat with a rubber curry comb—my first horse, the one that eventually kept me out of trouble. My parents’ threat of selling him out from under me if they got one more visit from the cops changed my tune.
That’s not to say I didn’t find any trouble to get into. But I took a break from street racing and cutting class to hand out bags of pot to my classmates from behind the school dumpster.
That was a fucking dumb spot to start my illegal business, now that I think of it. Still makes me chuckle and shake my head.
My thoughts drift to Skylar, how angry she was when I tossed her phone.
The immediate guilt I felt for having done it at all.
I think about Rosie and her fucking mouse. The way Skylar protected him simply because Rosie asked her to.
And I think about Bree. The accusation in her eyes followed by the loud growl of her engine as she peeled out of the property.
But most of all, I think about how flustered Skylar looked by her presence just before she ran away.
“Copper, old man. At least you’ve got my back,” I murmur, running a palm over his swayback and watching his eyelids go heavy. He’s old. Really old. I don’t like to think about the day he’ll eventually be gone, but at thirty- five, I know it’s close. So I soak up these moments with him. Buffing his coat
to a bronze shine that reminds me of Skylar’s hair and making him bran mashes with a little too much molasses in them.
As I’m admiring him and what great condition he’s in for his age, the air shifts behind me. It’s a strange sensation, one I haven’t felt before. It makes me turn slowly, and I’m not at all surprised when my eyes come to rest on Skylar Stone. Hair in wild waves around her face, eyes curious, body
language a bit tentative.
“Am I interrupting?”
“My conversation with Copper? Yes. I find it to be rude, but he won’t mind.” I toss the brush into the bin near the alleyway edge, biting down a smile when she chuckles.
“Is Bree gone?” She steps forward, peering around as though a woman I’m involved with might pop out of an empty stall half-naked and shout
Surprise!
“She is.”
“Okay” is all she says.
“I’m sorry I threw your phone in the lake,” I finally confess.
“I got your email.” She smirks at me as she walks my way.
“You love getting headlines. I figured I’d send you one that’s actually true.”
“Cute email. It really was kind of a dick move.”
“And not the good kind,” I concede, nodding.
“If that was your best move, the ladies would be disappointed. No matter how big it is.”
Usually, I’d smile at that, but I drop her gaze and peek back up. “I’m sorry. I’ll replace it.”
She scoffs and waves me off. “No chance. You challenged me. Now I need to prove I can go without it for a week.”
“You can. Might even like it.”
Her head tilts. “Might even be good for me.” She nibbles on her bottom lip as her eyes slice over to Copper. “What are you up to?”
I hike a thumb back over my shoulder. “Brushing my horse.”
“What’s his name?”
“Copper.”
She eyes him speculatively before reaching forward to slide her hand down over his neck. “Is he what got you into this?” She looks around us, gesturing to the barn with her eyes.
“Yeah. My parents heard horses were good for keeping kids out of trouble. And it worked.” My head wobbles. “Mostly.”
Her fingers trail through his mane as she asks, “What do you mean mostly?”
“I mean, my new challenge was sticking the ride on the toughest, wildest horses I could find. Got my ass dumped in the dirt enough times that I learned I couldn’t muscle a horse into being a willing partner. Started learning real training strategies to bring them around and got hooked. Went away and worked the odd cattle ranch. Performance horses. But ultimately, I wanted to be here and not on the road. I’m not interested in working cattle, and the allure of riding for show is lost on me. I like the simplicity of starting the young ones. Building that foundation. Seeing them flourish. It’s something new and exciting every day, but it’s good, honest work too. I love what I do.”
She stares at me blankly for a few beats. Then, “That must feel incredible.
To love what you do like that.”
“You don’t like what you do?”
“I think, like you, I love the simplicity of it. Of singing. Of figuring out a song and mastering it. The emotion that goes into taking words and making them into song. But more and more…the allure of singing for show is just… gone.”
I nod along, unsure what to say to that. It’s not for me to tell her how to handle it anyway. It just seems tragic to me that everyone around her has managed to ruin something that once brought her joy. “Wanna try?” I reach the brush out to her. “Horses are good for the soul.”
Skylar hesitates. She’s not an especially short woman, but she looks small right now.
“You don’t have to. You can go do something else. I’ve just always found brushing horses to be kind of therapeutic. But you’re welcome in the house, you know. Anywhere on the property.”
Her head bobs slowly. “This is where I want to be.”
“I thought you wanted to be alone.”
She hits me with the softest smile before focusing on Copper. “I was for a few hours. It was… Well, it was a learning experience. Turns out I don’t really know how to be alone. Being quiet with someone else sounds nice, though.”
Her admission makes me sad. For both her and me. Because I know that
feeling all too well.
Loneliness.
She takes the brush with a wobbly smile and steps past me toward Copper.
Wordlessly, I grab another brush and join her.
We spend the next few hours grooming every horse in the barn. We don’t talk. She watches what I do with each type of brush and replicates my motions.
It’s the kind of companionship I crave. It’s intimate without even trying.
It’s one of the most peaceful afternoons I’ve ever enjoyed.
After a week of having the fridge and pantry cleaned out by Emmy and Ollie, I decided it’s time for a restock. I push my grocery cart up and down the aisles, restocking with all of their favorites so that I’m ready for their return.
Head down to double check my list as I round the corner, I hear the clink of metal hitting metal.
“Shit, sorry,” I mutter as I look up to find Skylar right in front of me, pushing a cart of her own, face partially hidden behind her Sparkly Turquoise Unicorns team hat.
Yesterday we brushed the horses together, but today I saw neither hide nor hair of her. I assume she went to Ford’s to come up with a plan and get the lay of the land. But other than that, I have no idea what she’s been up to. I know she slept in the house. She snuck in late to “not invade my space” as she called it, and I left early to work the horses before it got too hot.
“Are you stalking me? Should I be concerned?” she says with a smug smile on her face as she pops one hip out.
Fuck, she’s hot.
I lick my lips, internally reminding myself again not to act starstruck around her. It would be easy enough to do, and it would shut her right down.
She doesn’t need another fan.
“Is it considered stalking if you like it?”
I get an amused eye roll and take a moment to peek at her cart. It’s fully stocked. Which means when I asked if she wanted to stay for dinner last night
and she told me she had a full fridge and would be fine, she was lying.
“Full cart you’ve got there, Sky. Didn’t realize you had room in your full fridge for all those bags of salad.”
She deflects by teasing me. “If you were any good at stalking, you’d know exactly how much room I have in my fridge.”
I give her my best give me a break look.
“Listen, West. I like you. You’re a good friend, considering I’ve known you for all of four days. But if I want to sit alone, eating the stale Pop-Tarts that were left in the bunkhouse with your sister’s mouse, all while drinking an entire bottle of wine I found in the cupboard, that’s what I’m gonna do.
And I will not explain myself or apologize. And I don’t need you to save me.
Again. I needed to have a pity party and treat my body like a dumpster fire because I was never allowed to, and it felt freeing. Got it?”
“That sounds like a really tragic version of a bucket of ice cream and Hallmark movies.”
“The only thing tragic about it was the way I felt this morning. Feeling
free has consequences, it would seem.”
“Hence the salad?”
She nods. “Hence the salad.”
I gesture my chin at her. “How’s the nose?”
Her hand moves up, fingers tapping gingerly along it. “Still a little tender.
Felt fucking fabulous after a bottle of wine, though. I’ll give the experience that much.”
I maneuver around my shopping cart without even thinking. With only a few steps, I’m standing right in front of her, my fingers nudging the brim of her hat back so I can see her face. She doesn’t flinch or move away. She only tips her head to stare up at me.
There’s something heart-stopping about a woman who is so low on trust looking up at me the way she is right now. Fragile and fierce all at once.
I admire the hell out of her. But I don’t say that. I settle for, “Let me see.”
Her lips roll together and she nods slightly as I lift my hands to cup the back of her head. My gaze follows the path of my thumbs as they trace her cheekbones, the sides of her nose, and the top line of the bridge.
My tongue swipes out as I take a quick glance down at her mouth.
That fucking mouth.
“You look good, fancy face.”
“Yeah?” she breathes, and I feel the rush of air against my damp lips.
I take the liberty of tracing the elegant swoop of her nose once more.
“Perfect as ever.”
It’s too fucking far, saying that out loud. But the truth slipped out anyway. Her eyes widen on mine and my head inclines.
I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I meant to check her nose, and here I am, in the middle of the grocery store, admiring her openly.
Luckily, it’s the loud clearing of a throat that startles us. We pull away from each other like two teenagers caught by their parents.
It’s ridiculous. We’re two single, consenting adults. If we want to kiss
right here and now, we should.
Except we shouldn’t.
A throat clears again, and we both turn to see Bree staring daggers at us.
Skylar jumps away from me and begins nervously smoothing her hands over her clothes. She clearly thinks there’s something going on between Bree and me.
“Excuse me, friends. Just going to grab some Shreddies if you’re done here.”
Skylar winces before peeking back over her shoulder and abruptly steering her cart around the protruding end of mine.
She can’t get away fast enough, and a part of me doesn’t blame her.
I told her my life wasn’t cut out for anything serious, and I meant it when I said it.
But for once, I find myself thinking something serious might not be so bad.
Skylar looks shocked when she swings the door open and finds me standing on the front landing of the bunkhouse, holding a pan of lasagna.
“I made this, and if you make me eat it alone, it will be tragic and possibly the lowest point of my life.”
She doesn’t open the door any wider, but she curves one brow at me. I haven’t seen her since the grocery store yesterday, but I heard her tiptoe into
the house last night.
“The very lowest?”
I nod solemnly. “The very lowest. I will eat the entire thing and have a shame spiral because my metabolism isn’t what it used to be. It will go straight to my thighs, and we both know how much you like those. You’d be saving me from myself.”
Now she scoffs. “Yeah, your metabolism seems like it’s a huge problem.”
“You’re still thinking about me with my shirt off, aren’t you? Regretting not taking a photo?”
“You’re a shameless flirt, Weston Belmont.”
I grin and hit her with a cocky wink. “Thank you.”
Then we both get caught for a moment, staring at each other. And for one heartbeat, I’m back on that road with her body beneath me. I’m on a dark path behind the barn with her lips pressed to mine. I’m in a grocery store aisle, staring at her like nothing else exists.
I’ve always thought Skylar Stone was stunning. But Skylar Stone who lives next door is downright captivating. I feel like a child constantly caught
gawking.
I want to talk to her.
I want to get to know her.
I want to eat with her.
From behind Skylar, Cherry coos, “Go away!” but we both ignore her.
It seems insane. I’m a grown-ass man. We’ve known each other for less than a week, yet I’m completely sucked into her orbit. And it’s not just a physical attraction; it’s not just a celebrity obsession… I—it feels like so much more.
I’m like a lost little boy. A fish out of water. So I settled on homemade lasagna to get her attention.
“I don’t get the sense that Bree would love the idea of us sharing lasagna.”
I glance down at the pan in my hand and let out a low whistle. “It is a pretty sexy lasagna.”
A laugh lurches from her throat. “West, I’m serious.”
“So am I. And I don’t give a shit if she likes it or not.”
Her nose wiggles as she mulls my response over in her head. Still not opening the door any wider. “I don’t want to be that girl.”
“What girl?”
“The one who causes issues in another relationship.”
“Skylar, there is no relationship.”
Her eyes take a tour up near her brows. “Oh, sure. Your friend-with- benefits came over to your house to check on you because there is no relationship. Right.” Her head shakes like she’s disappointed. “You’re so damn likable, West. But that shit isn’t.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I hold a hand up and turn to place the lasagna on the deck chair. “You think…” I step closer to her. “You think she came over to —”
“Benefit,” she fills in, chin tipped up. “Which is great. I’m so thrilled for you.” She nods vigorously, though her tone isn’t as convincing as she may think. “I hope you are getting all the bene —”
“I broke it off with her.”
Her verbal tangent comes to a screeching halt. “You what?”
“I ended the benefits. She may have been the one to end the friend part.
We might be enemies-with-no-benefits now.”
Skylar’s eyes search my face. The makeup she’s wearing today doesn’t entirely cover the bruising, but it’s better than it was. I hope she’s been icing
it. “When?”
“When what?”
“When did you end it?”
“After the pub. The night your phone met its end. I called her from my truck. You sprinted away to the bunkhouse like I had a contagious disease, so I called her. Then, when I was coming here to apologize about the phone, I heard you screaming.”
Her brows draw together, and a look of concentration takes over her face.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why then? Why make the call then?”
I shift uncomfortably, weighing how I want to answer this question.
Deciding how honest I want to be. Wondering if I’ve even completely figured it out myself.
Do I tell her I didn’t like the way her face fell when I told her about my current relationship status? Do I tell her I want to be free in every way the next time she decides to kiss me? Do I tell her I want there to be a next time?
Or do I just say fuck it and kiss her myself?
I move incrementally closer.
But then stop.
I think about everything she’s been through—everything that the people
she trusted have taken from her. I don’t want to be another person who takes more than she has to give. And I don’t want to rush with her. Not when we’re
both still so clearly tangled up.
So I tell her something that’s true.
“Because I had a good reason to.”
A flush paints her cheeks and her gaze searches every corner of my face for some hint of a lie.
Then her voice comes out a bit wobbly as she lets me down easy.
“I’m going to pass on dinner…but save me a piece. I don’t like the idea of today being the lowest point in your life.” She steps back to shut the door.
But not before adding, “And ruining a metabolism like that would be a damn shame.”