Coming home, p.8
Coming Home, page 8
part #1 of Whiskey River Road Series
My phone vibrates on my dresser. I grab it and throw on a clean shirt. “Hello.”
“Hey, lover boy. Are we still on for dinner at my house tonight?”
Oh shit. I forgot all about meeting with Margret and her father. “Is there any way we can make it another evening?”
“You planned this with him weeks ago.” Her voice is harsh.
He’s been bugging me to meet with him about something. Some idea Margret says he has and I’ve been avoiding him like the plague. He caught me at a weak moment. “Why can’t you just tell me what he wants?”
“Because he wants to tell you himself and I’m not going to spoil the surprise for him.”
“Fine.” I might as well get it over with. “I’ve got some things I need to do here. The weatherman says there’s a big storm coming, and I need to help shore up the stables.”
“You have ranch hands for that sort of thing.”
“The Thoroughbred is my job, along with the other horses.”
“Okay, but please don’t be late.”
“I’m not making any promises.” I hang up. What the hell am I even doing with Margret? It’s been a relationship of convenience. I care about her, but I’m not in love with her. She asked me to marry her, and I figured why not. It would be nice to not be so lonely all the time, and she helped me get over Clem. At least I thought I was over her. I’ve really got myself in a mess. I’ll either have to man up and go through with my commitment to Margret or find a way out.
“What the hell am I even thinking? Clem doesn’t want me and I sure as hell don’t trust her. Margret is reliable.”
I get in my truck and head over to the track to check on Jose and Whiskey. This is the usual time he runs him. I park by the fence and see Jose walking Whiskey and Henry on a leash behind him.
“Hey boss man,” he yells when he sees me walking toward him.
“Why is the goat out here?”
“Whiskey wouldn’t leave the stable without him.”
“Just fucking great. Clem said the goat would help calm him, not make matters worse.” I press my fingers to my temples.
“He’s calm. He let me put him in the starting gate.”
“Yeah, but even if it worked, I can’t bring a goat to the tracks.”
“We can keep him in the trailer outside the track. Whiskey can see him from there.”
“Let me rephrase it. I’m not bringing a goat to the derby.” I hang my hat on the fence post. Henry mewls. “I’ll hold on to him. You get Whiskey in the gate and take him for a run.” Instead of walking over to get the stopwatch, I pull my phone out of my pocket and find my timer.
“Who’s this?” Chet walks up behind me.
“Clem’s goat.”
“What the hell is she doing with a goat on my property?”
“She has this wild idea that Whiskey needs a pet goat to settle him down.”
He takes off his hat and props one boot on the lower rung of the fence. “I see the military did her a lot of good.” He snickers.
We both watch as Jose loads Whiskey in the gate. It goes smoothly for the first time ever.
“Huh.” I scratch my chin. “He’s never been that easy before.”
When Jose gives me the signal, I blow a whistle and start timing him. He lunges out of the gate in a quick stride, moving faster and easier than I’ve ever seen him. He’s beautiful, all muscle and graceful. We stand and watch as he makes his way around the one and a half-mile dirt track. He’s still flying when he crosses the finish line, and I hit the stop button.
“Well I’ll be damned.” I laugh.
“What was his time?”
“Two minutes twenty-three seconds.”
“Don’t go thinking that has anything to do with that goat.” Chet’s voice is gruff.
“I’m sorry I’m late. I had to return some tools,” Clem says, moseying up beside us. I look back to see Bear driving off on the four-wheeler. He must have driven her.
“No excuses for being late. Try again tomorrow. If you’re late then too, consider yourself fired,” Chet growls at her.
“Yes, sir,” she says and stands on the fence. “What did I miss?”
I turn the timer in her direction. “Seriously?” Her eyes light up. She hops down and scratches the goat's chin. “I knew you two would get along.”
“Don’t you go taking credit for this. Jose and Boone have worked hard. That’s what increased his time, not some damn voodoo goat.” Chet marches off.
“I didn’t mean it that way,” she yells after him.
He turns and storms toward her. “You don’t get to come back and be some type of hero.” His finger is on her shoulder. “Now get that goat off my property.” He snarls and turns back around.
I watch any pride that Clem has leave her face as her gaze follows him.
“I’ll figure out a way to keep the goat,” I say.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to do that.”
“Whiskey bonded with him like you said. He went through the gate without any issues.”
She chews at the inside of her cheek. “I’m glad it helped, but I’ll never do anything right in his eyes.”
“You need to give him more time.”
“I’ve been hearing that a lot lately.” She peers up at me from under her dark lashes.
I stick out my hand. “Let’s call a truce. You’ve said you’re sorry and I’ll quit busting your chops over it.”
“Really?” she all but squeals and plants her hand firmly in mine.
“We’ve both moved on, and there is no reason we can’t be friends. Water under the bridge, so to speak.”
“I’d like that. Are we friends enough that you’ll let me help train Whiskey?”
“No,” I answer quickly, and she frowns. “But, there’s a young horse that’s getting delivered tomorrow. He’s all yours to train if you want him.”
“I’d love it. I promise you won’t regret it.”
“Did your roof get finished? There’s a storm headed in tonight.”
“Yes. Bear and Ethan have it handled.”
“What’s the story with Ethan?”
“We’re friends. He helped me get through boot camp, and we bonded.”
“Was it difficult?”
Her brows draw together. “Was what difficult?”
“Boot camp? I mean you went from a sheltered life on the ranch to the military.”
“I was scared shitless with what I’d done. I was heartbroken over what had happened, but I needed an out. I would’ve died on the inside if I stayed here.” She takes my hand in hers. “I’m sorry—”
I stop her. “Don’t apologize again. We are through that. Do you understand?”
She nods.
“Good.” I glance at my watch. “I’d like to hear more, but I have a meeting I have to get to. Maybe we could catch up after you get the new horse settled tomorrow.”
“I’d like that.”
“Do you think you could help Jose cool off Whiskey and get him and Henry back to the stable?”
“Yes,” she says enthusiastically.
“Okay then. I’ll see you later. Tell Chet and your mom I won’t be making it for dinner tonight. You’ll want to get home before the storm hits.”
I tie up loose ends in the stable and make sure all the horses are locked down tight to ride out the storm. I drive back home, shower, and change clothes. I don’t know why I feel the need to put on a tie, but I do. I leave my dusty cowboy hat on the hook and head over to Margret’s place.
“You’re on time.” She opens the door and kisses me on the cheek. “You look mighty handsome in that tie. You should wear one more often.”
I tug at it, thinking how unnatural it feels around my neck.
“Daddy’s in the study waiting for you. He wanted to meet with you before we sit down to eat.”
“Mr. Maynard,” I say, following Margret into his office.
“Please call me Tom. After all, you are marrying my daughter.” He motions his hand for me to take a seat. His leather chair creaks as he rests back. “Margret, sweetheart, why don’t you fix us men something to drink?”
“Yes, Daddy.” She takes the hint and leaves the room, shutting the door behind her.
“I want to get straight to the point. I want to hire you to train my horses.”
“I have a job.”
“I’ll pay you twice what the Calhouns are paying.”
“I’m not interested in making a change, sir.”
“I hear the youngest Calhoun is back in town. That wouldn’t have anything to do with it, right?”
“No, sir. Not a thing. I’m happy where I am.”
“Let me put it to you this way. You’re marrying my only daughter, and I expect certain things.”
My muscles in my face involuntarily flex a few times. “You mean other than a husband financially supporting his wife and making her happy?”
“You will do both those things and so much more. As a member of this family, certain things will be expected of you. Namely, you’ll work for me and bring that Thoroughbred with you. I’ll pay top dollar for him.”
“The horse is not for sale, and neither am I.”
Tom leans forward, bracing himself on the desk. “I wasn’t asking. While I’m at it, don’t even think about ending things with my daughter. If you do, someone you love will pay the price.”
“You’re threatening me?” I stand.
“Call it what you want, but know that I keep my promises.”
Margret comes through the door carrying two glasses. “Supper is ready. I don’t want it getting cold.” She hands us both our drinks. Tom comes from behind his desk and slaps a hand to my shoulder. “Perfect timing. Our meeting is done, and I believe we’ve come to a certain understanding.”
Margret tucks into the crook of my arm. “I’m so happy my two favorite men can work together.”
That tells me she knew all along what he wanted. Maybe she even insisted upon it. She and I will have a discussion about it, but not in front of her parents.
It’s all I can do to sit and make small talk at dinner. Margret keeps pressing me for a date for our wedding, and Tom keeps talking about how my horse is going to win him a lot of money this year. He was even bold enough to make the comment that the Calhoun’s would lose out and he’d be able to purchase up their land for pennies. Motherfucker was proud of himself thinking he’d best the Calhouns. No way in hell will I allow that to happen. I’ll find a way to end this relationship so that it looks like Margret made the call, not me.
Chapter Ten
Clem
Gawd, it felt good to work with Whiskey. I know I didn’t get to train him, but the little I did reminded me of how much I loved working with the horses. Funny, something I wanted to run away from, turns out I love it after all. Time away did me good.
“I’ll finish up in the stall, Jose. You need to get out of here before those storm clouds break loose.
“Are you sure, Ms. Calhoun?”
“Please call me Clem. Yes, I’m sure. Now shoo.” I wave my hands at him to get him moving. The wind has picked up in the past five minutes, and the angry dark clouds are quickly headed our way. Whiskey settles down with Henry beneath him, but the goat is walking in circles.
“What’s the matter, boy? You don’t like storms?” A window that wasn’t fastened down slams shut, spooking one of the other horses and Henry. I double-check all the latches and windows, making sure nothing else can fly open. I put the shovel and the pitchfork flat on the ground with the wheel barrel on top of them to weigh them down. A crack of lightning and a loud whistling sound rattles the stable. I peek outside, and there is no way I’m making it back to the cottage on foot. “Ethan,” I say, pulling out my phone. I hit his speed dial number.
“Hey, Clem.”
“Where are you? Please tell me you're not in the tent?”
“No, I’m at Ellie’s. I couldn’t find you so she told me I could ride out the storm at her place.”
I bet she did. “Okay, stay put.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m in the stable. I’m going to ride it out here with the horses. It’s too late for me to make it back on foot.”
“Do you want me to come get you?”
“No. I’ll be fine.” I hang up and try Bear. It goes straight to voicemail. “Looks like I’ll be hanging out here for the night.” I run my hand over Whiskey’s mane. “I’ll be right back.”
I know we used to keep blankets in one of the storage cabinets. I scrounge around for them and take out a couple. Whiskey has lain down. Henry is nervous as a goat, as he should be, I giggle. Placing the blanket on the hay, I sit, and Henry crawls into my lap.
The wind has gotten so loud that it doesn’t matter that the windows are battened down; they still shake and make an awful sound. Light flashes and thunder rattles the stable. I have to admit, I’m a little frightened. What if there’s a tornado? I can’t leave the horses alone.
A whirl of wind gushes through as a barn door flies open. “Clem! Are you in here?” Thank the heavens above it’s Boone.
“I’m in Whiskey’s stall!” I yell over the sound of the whipping wind.
I hear him pull the door shut, then his head pops up above Whiskey’s gate. “Thank god you’re okay. I drove down to your cottage. Ethan stuck his head out the window and told me you hadn’t made it back.”
“That must’ve been before I called him.”
“There are trees down all over the property. I need to get you out of here.”
“I’m not leaving them.” I nuzzle Whiskey’s nose.
He opens the gate and sits beside me on the blanket. “You’re as stubborn as you used to be. I can’t tell you how many times I found you in the barn sleeping with the animals when it stormed.”
“I don’t like the thought of them being scared.” I rub the top of Henry’s head.
“Fine. If you’re staying, I’m staying.”
“I thought you had a meeting?”
“I did.” His facial expression changes from worry to almost anger.
“Did it not go well?”
“Not at all like I planned.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No, it’s nothing for you to worry about.”
His stormy eyes pierce through me. There’s a look of concern in them. It’s not something I ever recall seeing very often on his handsome face. He was always so strong and brave when I needed him to be. The pounding sound of the rain joins in with all the other noises.
“Damn, it’s coming down hard.” He gets up and checks the windows again.
“I think we’re in for a long night.” I pat the spot next to me, hoping he’ll join me rather than finding another spot to sit.
“I’ll get us a couple more blankets.” He walks away, and I hear cabinets opening and shutting. He comes back with two more plaid blankets in hand. Spreading one out beside me, he sits, throwing the other one over the two of us. “You’ve got to be exhausted from working on the hot roof all day. Why don’t you try to get some sleep?”
I lie down, and I feel him relax beside me. “Where’s Margret?”
“She’s at home, safe and sound.” His voice sounds a little gritty.
“I’m glad you found someone.” Not really. I’m such a liar. I hate her, and I don’t even know her. I only know that Boone has had his hands on her. I have no right to feel this way, yet I can’t seem to control the idea that he’s still mine even after all this time.
“You’re supposed to be trying to get some sleep.”
His rough hand squeezes my shoulder, sending a wave of desire through me, and I have to press my thighs together. I decide in that moment, I want him back. He’s not married yet, so he’s still a free man. Of course, if anyone would’ve laid a hand on Boone when I was with him, I would’ve ripped their titties plumb off their chest. I slowly, full of lust, turn and face him. His dark eyes stare at me for a moment, then he closes them. I slip my eager hands under the hem of his t-shirt and run my fingertips over his muscles.
Without opening his eyes, he asks in a deep lull, “What are you doing?”
Holy mother of Mary his abs feel so good. “Nothing.” I draw out the word with a southern charm.
“Roll back over and go to sleep.” His tone is so sexy. I’m sure that’s not what he was going for, but it tweaks my insides.
I do as I’m told, but not without an exaggerated sigh. “I’m not having sex with you if that’s what you're thinking,” I tease behind a smile.
“I wasn’t thinking it.” A hint of a chuckle comes from him.
I wiggle my ass closer. I don’t even have to look; I know those stormy eyes of his popped open as wide as saucers.
“Whatever is pressed into my ass tends to disagree with you,” I giggle.
“Quit squirming. It’s a knife.” His voice is strained.
I laugh. “A little big for a pocketknife.” My nipples pucker, thinking about him pressing into my backend. My panties are soaking wet.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Clem.” The grinding of his teeth let me know he’s struggling to brush me off.
“Seriously, Boone, I done told you, I wasn’t having sex with you.” Sweet Jesus, I want him to slide into my cupcake and spill my batter.
“Your mind is thinking something dirty, isn’t it?” He scoots back, and I follow, grinding into his so-called knife.
He knows me so well. I reach back and grab his large hand I’m aching to have on me. I kiss the tips of his fingers, and I think he’s going to give in when he drags mine to his mouth. I let out a chirp when he bites me. It does nothing but turn me on.
“You’re a biter. I kinda like it.” Damn, I don’t remember him being a biter before. Maybe he’s learned some new tricks.
He chuckles, then pushes my shoulders, laying me flat on the blanket. He hovers over me and for a minute, I think he’s going to kiss me. His lickable lips are inches from mine. “Your eyes are beautiful,” he whispers and swallows hard.
“You want to kiss me, don’t you?” I’m not really asking, merely pointing out a fact that’s given away in the way he’s looking at me right now.
