He disappears inside his room, and I hear some banging around as I pull on the warmest and thickest clothes I brought with me.
I hear the thud of his footsteps in the hallway as I pull my boots on. And when I join him in the kitchen, he’s already swept up the shattered mug. “Thank you. For dealing with that.” I tip my chin over to the spot where I broke the mug, then look back to him. “And thank you. For dealing with me.”
“My pleasure. You ready?” he asks, pulling a Stetson off the wall.
A goddamn, bona fide Stetson.
I nod. “I am, but I’m not sure my coat is warm enough.” I left my thick one behind two homes ago.
He reaches for his thick, fleece-lined Iron Outlaws jacket and puts it over my shoulders, then grabs his phone and dials a number. “Quinn. It’s a cold day. Any chance you can make coffee for the two prospects? I’ll leave some cash on the counter for you. Throw them a pastry too.”
There’s a pause, but I can’t quite hear what Quinn’s saying.
“Yeah. I’ll let them know.”
“There are prospects outside? What are you doing?” I ask.
“Yeah. Extra protection. But now we’re giving them both a reason to step inside out of the cold for a second.”
“Why?”
“So that we have time to slip out the back door.”
7
CATFISH
Atom’s father might not have been a good man. But he was a damn good horse breeder.
He bred horses that descend from war horse lines for their strength and agility in difficult terrain yet had the speed for a charge.
And Blaze is no exception.
He’s an angry horse, at times.
Sometimes petulant.
But I swear to God, the way he’s nuzzling Wren like a fucking puppy is wild.
I know Atom would say horses can see right through to your soul. They can read your mood. They know your intentions. It’s why equine therapy is used for so many things from alcoholism to depression to helping resolve childhood trauma. But I would never have imagined Blaze would have been suitable for the task.
I step closer to the two of them, and Blaze whinnies, acknowledging my existence.
“Yeah, don’t be looking at me like that,” I say. “When I’m the one who pays for you to be stabled in this palace.”
Wren turns slightly so they can see me. “Don’t grumble at him.”
“And don’t you be defending him either. Here.” I wrestle an apple out of my pocket and hand it to Wren.
“Oh God. How do I feed him?”
I’m a bit confused for a moment. “You’ve been around horses before, right?”
They shake their head. “No.”
I chuckle. “Well, you sure had me fooled, the way you walked up to this grumpy bastard’s stall and hugged him.”
Wren stands and puts their hands on their hips. “For the record, it felt like we both needed one.”
