The mare doesn’t answer my joke, and I wish I were the same reckless cowboy I once was. If I were the same, I would jump over this fence and try to tame her. My hand itches a soft reminder, but I don’t need it. The pain is etched in my soul. I carry it with me wherever I go.
The mare trots close, her movements careful, nose tipped up. Everything stops as she approaches. I almost make the mistake of holding my hand up to her for a pat before I realize her eyes are not on me but over my shoulder.
The powerful scent grabs me by the throat, and I let out a pitiful groan. It’s so overwhelming, I choke as I turn around, coming face-to-face with Veda Darling.
Her brown eyes are as wide as saucers when they land on me, her hand still holding the windowsill where she just climbed from.
Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in.
“Good evening, Miss Darlin’.” The smile stretches across my face. I don't remember the last time I was this pleased.
“Hi.”
It takes her a little shifting from foot to foot until she decides that hopping back into the room would be silly. With arms crossed protectively over her stomach, she moves closer as the breeze carries her scent to me. The impossible question barrels right into my chest, and I find myself wondering something I didn’t think was possible.
Am I in front of an Omega?
“Tired of your room?” I force myself to turn from her, my eyes back to the pen and on the wild mare.
“It was getting stuffy in there.”
A million questions pop into my head, but again, I refuse to speak my mind. It’s the right call because after a moment of silence, she breathes out the tension and comes closer, hands over the wooden fence and her eyes on the mare.
“Gorgeous horse,” she says softly.
“We rescued her a few weeks ago. She doesn’t like us very much.”
She giggles. “So there’s a theme going on here…”
I chuckle, glad that I didn’t need to be the one to point it out. “I guess we’re not very popular with the ladies. Even when we’re just trying to feed them.”
The comment hangs in the air, but she doesn’t move away or retreat to her room. Instead, she nods. I don’t dare look at her, afraid it’ll be too confrontational. I don’t fucking know how to behave with a woman, so I act like she’s a wild horse and keep my movements to a minimum.
“I can’t eat the food you gave me.”
I frown, and I can’t hold back. I turn to face her. “What's wrong with the food we're giving you?”
She sighs. “I guess when Grandpa arranged this little stay, he forgot to mention that I have celiac disease?”
She has what?I’m on high alert even though I don’t fully grasp what she’s saying.
“What does that mean?”
“You keep giving me gluten. Pancakes, pies, noodles. I can’t eat that.”
Oh. Fuck.I curse the St. James in my mind, but save the colorful names for myself. She’s a lady, and he is her family.
I can’t hide the frown as I grit out, “Yeah, your grandfather forgot to mention that.”
She nods, but she doesn’t accuse me of lying and trying to poison her. It’s clear that it’s not surprising that her grandfather decided to omit this important part of her medical history.
“Let's go. Let me make you a plate of food. No gluten.”
My mind runs a mile a minute trying to figure out what would be gluten-free in that house. I don’t even think I fully understand what gluten is, but I sure am going to try. She must be starving, but her gaze turns to the house, and uncertainty takes over.
“Everyone is sleeping. Ranchers are early risers. It’s rare there’s anyone around after eight.”
It’s the right play because she finally nods and follows me back inside.
