“Someone had to do it, and you haven’t needed much protection—being locked in your room for days on end doesn’t bring too many dangers.”
“Thank you,” I say, meaning it with my whole heart.
His eyes widen a fraction, and then he slowly nods.Have I ever thanked him for anything?
We walk into the stables, but there’s not a single horse inside. It smells like cedar and musky air, and I don’t hate it. In fact, I secretly think I could learn to love it. Something about it feels so fresh and pure, so down to earth. I don’t remember the last time I felt that way.
“I like it in here.” The words slip out, and for a moment, I wish I should shovel them back inside.
Faith smiles at me again, the tops of her cheeks turning rosy. “It’s a beautiful barn—plus, animals always seem to ground me. I can see this being an awesome place to escape to.”
I nod. “I want to put some work out equipment out here?—”
“What about the horses?” McCrae grumbles, and I stop midsentence. I hadn’t even considered the horses.Do I have to keep them?I don’t know a thing about the beasts, nor do I care.
In true Faith fashion, she just waves off McCrae’s question as if it’s of no consequence. “There’s more than enough room. If work out equipment would make this space more ideal for you, then you should do it! There’s even a stall set up with a shower head-like attachment—to wash the horses off, or riders, whatever suits your fancy.” She winks.
“Ha. I think I’ll stick to showering inside.”
She shrugs. “Probably for the best. It’s not heated.”
“So, uh, where are the horses?” I look around the immaculate space, still seeing no signs of the creatures in question.
“I put the horses out this morning.” Santos walks into the barn, a sheen of sweat coating his face, and he gives Faith a genuine smile. She stares at him for a beat before returning the grin—she doesn’t seem interested, and I can’t help but wonder why. Santos is as good-looking as they come, but if he’s not her type, what is?
“Faith, Santos. Santos, this is Faith,” McCrae grumbles, trying to brush the enormous, tanned man under the rug like a speck of dust.
Unwilling to be modest for any reason, Santos winks at Faith. “Nice to meet you.”
“She’s too fucking young for you. Keep those hands,” McCrae bites out the word, “to yourself.”
“McCrae!” Faith and I hiss in unison.
He’s become a brute around Faith, and I can’t understand why.
“I’m not kidding, boy. Hands off.”
“Okay, old man.” Santos raises his hands in mock surrender.
“Men are ridiculous.” Faith shakes her head, turning her attention back to the field even as her cheeks flame red. “I can protect myself, if you remember, McCrae.”
There’s a weighted pause.
“What does that mean?” I ask, but neither one looks at me. I bristle—I don’t like to be on the outside of anything, especially when it pertains to McCrae.
Maybe I should be worried about Faith after all.
As if reading my mind, Faith shakes her head, shooting me a teasing smile. “McCrae thinks that because I don’t have any good role models, he has to be that for me, like an annoying older brother or something.”
Faith misses the way McCrae’s face darkens at her words, but I don’t.
Santos scoffs. “I’d feel bad for anyone who had this grump as their older brother.”
I choke on a laugh; the comment will hit too close to home for McCrae, even if it was someone he liked. I could intervene.
But what would be the fun in that?
“What would you know about what a good brother looks like?” McCrae snaps, and I shoot Faith a‘they’re about to whip out their dicks’eye-roll.
