“Not a fan of dogs?” Theo walked to the fence with Hope.
Truce wasn’t sure of the stranger, but he’d follow his sister through fire.
“Uh, I’m wary of them. I got attacked as a kid. I’ve gotten over it some, but…”
“But they’re still five pit bulls you don’t know,” Theo concluded.
Ben wince-smiled. “Yeah.”
Behind him, River walked toward us from the house.
“Hey, I thought I heard a car,” he said, making Ben turn around.
River stumbled to a stop, his jaw dropping as he stared at Ben.
“B-Benji?”
I’d never seen him as shocked. His expression was so foreign to me, that for the first time in a very long time I had trouble reading my best friend’s face.
“River?” Ben asked, his tone sounding confused. “What are you doing here?”
I’d never heard River mention anyone called Ben or Benji, but I could tell this guy had a significant effect on River. How? Because he went white, turned tail, and ran inside.
Chapter 16
Theo
I had to commend Lake on his calmness as he turned to me.
“You know, I better go see what this is all about,” he said in a level tone, even though his eyes were a bit wild.
“Yeah, of course. Just give me his lead and I’ll work on them both.”
He handed Truce’s rope to me, and smoothly went through the fence, then spoke to the new guy quietly, before they started toward the house together. Lake didn’t wait for the editor who stopped by his car to get his bags, and soon both of them were out of my view.
Shrugging, I unclipped Hope’s rope from her halter and let her do her thing while I began to work with Truce instead.
I’d seen River’s face when he saw Ben for the first time and that had been something else. Truce jerked his head, startling at something but staying still, luckily. I took it as the sign from the universe that it was none of my business what was going on between River and the new guy that clearly wasn’t new to River and concentrated on my job instead.
* * * *
That evening, I’d made sure the horses were all happy and fed inside and was walking toward my cabin when Bucky turned to look at the house. Lake strode briskly to us.
“What’s up?” I frowned at his expression.
“Can I come to yours for a bit?” he asked in a tone that was too intense to be casual. Something was upsetting him, and I gestured ahead.
I opened the door and let Bucky and Lake in, then closed the door behind us. Lake’s shoulders dropped from near his ears, and he took off his sneakers—not his boots he used around the stable, which meant he’d really been escaping the house and his friends—and went to plop down on my couch.
“Are you hiding?” I smiled. “And do you want a drink?”
“Do you have anything alcoholic?” His tone was so exhausted, my smile faded.
“I have some whiskey. I keep it for emotional emergencies.”
“Can I have a double?”
“Of course.”
