Since I woke up by myself, I’ve been wondering why she didn’t say anything. If she didn’t want to see me again, all she had to do was say, but I can’t say I wouldn’t have tried to change her mind. Who in their right mind wouldn’t?
My bags are still in my truck so I walk back out the front to get them. I was hoping to catch everyone still eatingbreakfast and surprise them, but the surprise is on me. Maybe I should go find her and talk to her. I turn and jog back up the porch steps.
Maybe that’s a bad idea. I stop on the top step and put my hands on my hips again, I don’t think she wants to talk to me. I turn around again and step down a step.
Should I try anyway?
Turning again, I step back up to the top step and move toward the front door, I stop again and turn to face my truck. Maybe I should give her a little time.
Damn it!
I don’t usually get flustered by women, but there is something about this one that is making me walk in fucking circles. Literally. Just like last night when every guy that ogled her sent my anger into the red zone. I don’t get angry, jealous, or flustered by women, I take care of business and move on.
Hoof steps from the side of the house pull me out of my indecision and I look up to see Gray on his favorite Appaloosa horse, aptly named Frost because of her coat.
“I thought I saw your truck. You missed breakfast.” His deep voice states the obvious. I swear he’s just like dad.
Walking back to the edge of the large wrap-around porch, I wait for him to get closer. “Yep, I did. I’ll grab something later after I get settled.”
He leans forward onto the horn of his saddle, “I thought you were going to be here later today or I would have told Sloane to leave some food out on the table.”
“Sloane?” The last thing I need is for Gray to be up my ass, so I play ignorant.
“Yeah, she took Opal’s place earlier this year. She’s great, a little shy, so be nice.”
Yeah, I saw that beautiful shyness all night long.
I cock my head to the side and close one eye like I don’tknow what he means, “Whatever do you mean, brother? Why wouldn’t I be nice?”
He straightens his back and pulls on the reins to turn Frost around, “You know what I mean. She’s settled in and is doing a good job, not to mention Marley likes her. So, keep your hands to yourself.”
Fuck.
Since he is riding away, I assume the conversation is over. “Well, good to see you too, brother. Nice talk.” I lay my southern accent on thick to go with my sarcasm, but all I get is a two-finger wave over his shoulder before he disappears around the side of the house.
Like I said, just like Dad.
After getting all my stuff into my room, I go outside to see everybody, otherwise, I’ll have to wait for dinner to see them. I looked for Sloane as I walked to my room, but either she’s busy in another part of the house or hiding from me. I’m willing to bet she’s hiding.
Knowing she is so close is giving me a chub which makes me think of every time I watched her beautiful face as she came undone under me last night. Great, now I have a full-blown hard-on and all I want to do is go back to last night and bury myself in her again.
It’s best I get out of the house.
About an eighth of a mile west of the house are two training paddocks for Marley’s rehab horses and a small stable to the north of them. I don’t see her outside, so I walk to the stables and find her mucking out a stall.
Standing five-six at about a buck twenty-five to my six-two, two-twenty, she looks half my size, but she has no problem lifting bags of feed, bails of hay, or moving horse shit with the shovel.
Her back is to me and I chuckle to myself when I see that her flannel shirt is the same color as mine, our ability tofrequently show up in similar colors has been a long-standing family joke. Her long, blond hair is in a French braid down her back and is falling over her shoulder as she twists her body to scoop into the dumpcart.
As soon as my boots touch the wood floor, her head lifts to look over her shoulder, her eyes landing on me. When I called her the night I found out about Dad, she was so upset she could hardly speak to me and now her eyes are a little puffy. Next to me, Dad is her rock.
The pain in my heart balloons as she turns to me and her face crumbles, the pitchfork dropping to the ground. As we walk toward each other, her steps quicken until her arms are squeezing my ribcage like a vice. I hug her as she cries into my shirt, my chin sitting on top of her head.
“I’m happy you’re home,” She mumbles into my shirt, her m’s sound like b’s since her nose is stuffed up from crying.
I tighten my hold on her and say, “Me, too.”
She feels thin.
