“Do you still love her?” I ask quietly.
He shakes his head once. “No. Not after what she did with another man.”
The finality in his voice leaves no room for doubt. I nod, accepting the truth of it. Accepting, too, the vulnerability he’s offered me without dressing it up or softening the edges.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “That kind of betrayal changes how you see things.”
His gaze meets mine, steady and searching. “It changes what you’re willing to risk.”
Our eyes hold for a moment longer than necessary. Then Margaret calls for dessert, the spell breaks, and the restaurant noise swells back around us. But something is different now with him sharing this with me.
I came tonight to celebrate a horse. Instead, I find myself seated beside a man whose past still shadows him. It affects who he trusts … or if he trusts at all. In a way, he mirrors the same issues Red Ledger has. And now I realize I care far more about that than I planned to.
Chapter 13
Harrison
The restaurant door shuts behind us. The noise becomes something distant, like it belongs to another version of the night. Inside there were speeches and laughter. We enjoyed a table full of people celebrating a horse that ran better than anyone expected. Out here, it’s just the parking lot lights and the cold edge of night air. And Nicole.
She walks beside me without hurrying, her flowered dress shifting softly with the breeze. The hat makes her look like she stepped out of a different world than the one I’m used to seeing her in. I tell myself I’m escorting Nicole to her car because that’s what a decent man does. True, but also a lie.
Her presence tonight has been … different. Not the trainer in the barn. Not the woman at the rail, entirely in her element. This version is so lovely, but somehow feels risky. Nicole doesn’t have to work to be noticed. She’s gorgeous.
We pass a row of cars. My truck is parked near the exit. Her car is farther in, under a light that flickers slightly like it can’t decide if it wants to stay bright. We should split ways hereand say goodnight. Instead, we slow down at the same time, both of us lingering without admitting it.
“Did you enjoy yourself?” she asks.
“I did. Thanks for inviting me. Most of all, I loved seeing a horse you’ve trained pull out a second place win.”
Nicole turns her head, watching me. She doesn’t smile, but something about her gaze makes me feel like she has more on her mind.
“Thank you, Harrison. Let’s see what happens with Red Ledger.”
She looks at me like a horse she’s reading. Like she’s learned all my responses. I stop walking. The instinct is automatic, like I need the world to hold still while I decide what to do with what she just said. She stops too.
For a moment we face each other in the parking lot light, the distance between us filled with everything we didn’t say over dinner. My hands go into my pockets before I can think better of it.
“Truth is, I don’t go to many social events anymore. I don’t mix work and personal,” I tell her. “Not anymore.”
Her expression doesn’t change, but her eyes sharpen.
“That a rule?” she asks. “Or a scar?”
“A lesson,” I say.
The word tastes like bitterness. Like something I don’t keep in my mouth often. Nicole waits, but she doesn’t push or pry. She just stands there and somehow that makes it harder to hold onto the parts of me that stay locked down.
“I learned the hard way that when you blur lines,” I say, “people start taking what they want.”
Nicole’s gaze softens. It’s not pity or sympathy. It’s something else. Understanding, maybe.
“That’s not the same as you taking what you want,” she says quietly.
I let out a breath. “It becomes the same thing when you stop trusting your own judgment.”
A truck passes on the road beyond the lot. Wind moves between the cars. Her dress flutters at her knees, and I force my attention up, back to her eyes.
“Then why’d you come tonight?” she asks.
