He twisted the key, firing the engine to life, and turned the nose of the truck toward home.
Might as well get this over with.
The truck ate up the miles between town and the ranch. He punched the code into the box on the gate and rolled on through when it opened. He paused and watched the gate close behind him before continuing up to the house. He killed the engine, grabbed the pies, and climbed out.
The screen door slapped shut behind him as he strode inside, “Gael?”
“Yeah?”
“We got a problem.”
“A work problem?” Gael appeared in the bathroom, zipping up his jeans. He ducked back in, and the sound of running water muffled his voice, “Or a horse problem?”
“It was one, and now it’s the other.”
“Ro, that’s even more riddley than you normally are,” Gael muttered as he stepped out of the bathroom and headed for the kitchen. “I’m gonna need a little more than that. Explain.”
“I need you to drive down to Camden Moore’s to pick up Rain.” He placed the box of pies on the table. “He needs a soft place to land and is coming here for a bit.”
Gael’s eyebrows almost disappeared into his hairline, but he didn’t talk for a beat or two before he connected the dots in his head. “She’s that bad, huh?”
“They both are.” Just as he was a sucker for a horse in pain, when it came to animals, he knew that Gael wouldn’t be able to say no either.
“You should call her.” Gael opened the pie box and inhaled deeply before turning away to fetch himself a plate.
No. No. No. That’s a bad idea.
“Why?”
“Because you were the one who pulled her out of hell.” Gael put a huge slice of apple pie on his plate and put it in the microwave. “Maybe if you talk to her, she’ll believe she’s home.” He glanced over his shoulder at him. “Least that’s how it was for me when it came to Joel.”
I cannot and will not be who she needs.
He was way too battered to be someone anyone needed, least of all a traumatized woman. Traumatized horse… that he could do. People, not so much. “There was a reason Joel was that for you.” He said finally, “I’m just not good at the nurturing stuff.”
“Bullshit.” Gael spooned a heaping of Cool Whip over his pie. “Joel grounded me, because Joel is my safe harbor. Maybe it’s time you found one of those for yourself, Prince Charming.”
Rowan flinched. There it was. The guys had gotten a kick out of how Enya had latched onto him in Colombia. They’d called him Prince Charming for a damn week. He didn’t need to listen to this crap again.
“I have paperwork waiting on me in the barn.” He shrugged out of his go-to-town jacket and exchanged it for his barn one. “You’ll drive down there and pick up Rain in the morning?”
“Seein’ as you’re not going to do it, sure.”
Rowan escaped the kitchen while his twin had a mouthful of pie, and before he had the chance to really get on a roll about how there was someone for everyone, blah, blah, blah.
The barn office was a cave of worn-in comfort. Rowan loved the scent of old leather that mingled with the sharp and earthy tang of linseed oil. He reached for the bottle of Horse Soldier Bourbon, distilled by the Green Berets who went into Afghanistan on horseback and met up with warlords at the start of the war.
After the day I just had, I deserve a drink of something fucking epic.
The springs groaned beneath him as he sank into his chair and propped his legs up on the table. He filled his glass and decided to ignore the battlefield of neglected paperwork waiting for him to look at. He should be sorting the ledgers with dog-eared corners and those vet records held together by faded paper clips, but decided it could wait until tomorrow. He drained half the glass of bourbon, topped it up, and savored the next sip. The initial burn had done its job and smothered the noise of disquiet inside him. That would have to be enough.
He leaned back in his chair, cradling the glass in his hand, while he closed his eyes. Thinking was always something he did best when alone.
Am I being unreasonable?
Behind his eyelids, his memory fed him the image of Enya as she flinched away from Grif on the plane. How she’d clung to him as if he were her, what had Gael called it, safe harbor?
Is it a dick move to not see if a listening ear could help?
