The Chilling Tide

by T M Bashford

  “How can I ride a horse? I’ll hit a tree.” Shae actually giggles.

  She’s happier these days. It must be the sailing. I wish it was because of me. I swallow the last of the bacon from my breakfast plate and take a final swig of orange juice.

  “Believe it or not, the horse has eyes and doesn’t want to walk into a tree,” I reply. “We’re not talking racing through the woods at high speed here.”

  “It sounds dangerous, Drew. Horse riding while blind?”

  “I wouldn’t let anything happen. But okay, I’ll go alone. I simply hoped to spend some time with you. I’ve been at the office a lot lately.”

  Shae’s smile stalls for a moment, then she turns thoughtful, chewing on her toast. Eventually, she asks, “Where exactly is this riding place?”

  “The station Dad had a stake in. I’m expected to visit at least once every six months and it’s been longer than that.”

  “Is this where your dad’s accident happened?”

  “Yup.” The word comes out sharply. The pressure of my position at Vega Corp. and the sense I’m failing my father—not only there but by not visiting the station—is getting to me. Despite hardly ever being alone, I’m lonely and isolated. But none of that is Shae’s fault.

  I soften my tone. “Are you going to eat the poor pancake, or stab it to death?” I push out my chair. “I must get going.”

  Shae places her cutlery on her plate and stands. “You shouldn’t do this on your own. I’ll come.”

  Shae

  The three-hour car ride west is laborious. Drew is on the phone most of the time, apologizing to me in between calls. I can’t even appreciate the scenery out the window. Instead, I let my mind return to the conversation I had with Jamison. I’d spent most of my nights re-visiting it. He’d made me view things from a different perspective, as if I was watching my life from the sidelines rather than living in the confusing middle of it. I also remember what George had said, about hiding my heart.

  Eventually, we turn into a road full of potholes, which make us bump from side to side. When the car stops, Drew climbs out and multiple men’s voices greet him. My nerves are like Mexican jumping beans. How do you ride a horse when you’re blind?

  My door opens. “Come on, Annie Oakley.” Drew takes my elbow, helping me climb out of the car. “I have to conduct a quick meeting, half an hour, but the kitchen staff will take care of you and then we’ll have the rest of the day.”

  My spirits fall.

  “The meeting is essential. Sorry. It’s roughly ten paces to the porch and there are three stairs going up.” He treads beside me, his arm around my waist so there’s no chance of my tripping. Our jeans rub against each other as we walk. Then my trainers squeak on a smooth floor and Drew’s footwear clip-clops until they’re muffled by a thin rug. He settles me into a hard, leather sofa. “Back soon.”

  Even though I can’t see a thing, when he leaves, it’s as if the sunlight went out of the room.

  “Can I offer you a drink?” A girlish voice makes me jump.

  “A coffee would be great, thanks.”

  While she’s gone, I listen to the foreign sounds that surround me—horses whinnying, men’s voices and laughter, the hammering of nails, a hose washing something down, slow stomping footsteps, a slamming door. It smells weird, not just dusty but there’s a sweetness in the air mixed in with manure and cooked cabbage.

  “I’ll put your drink on the table in front of you.” The girl sounds like she’s twelve, though I doubt she is. “I have some riding boots for you to try on. Mr. Vega said a size eight.” I wonder how he knows my size, then pull off my trainers and fiddle with the boots until they’re buckled up.

  Drew had given me a sensory wristwatch. I sip my coffee and check the Braille dots. It’s twelve thirty when a door opens and the raucous sound of men’s voices floods into the lounge. Footfalls beat in all directions and suddenly, Drew’s behind the sofa playfully massaging my shoulders to get my attention. “Ready?”

  “I’m not sure this is a good idea,” I say.

  He plonks a helmet onto my head. “Dave’s not happy with you riding solo, given you’re not an experienced rider. So, we’re going tandem.”

  I’m relieved, and Drew walks me toward the smell of manure and horses. The ground is uneven, but he has me practically pinned to his hip.

  “They’ve picked us a steady, docile old girl,” he says. “Relax and enjoy the sunshine. I remember how you love adventures.”

  Entirely unsure, I’m soon climbing some mobile steps to more easily mount the horse while Drew is already in the saddle. His hand comes across my stomach and he pulls me into him. Jammed against his crotch, if my heart wasn’t doing a pinball impression before, it certainly is now. My T-shirt is cropped, and his palm is on my bare skin. My cheeks flame.

  His other arm rubs against my hip as he fiddles with the reigns. “I’ll show you some basics, then you can try.” The horse takes a step and I suppress a shriek, my head jerking and colliding with Drew’s.

  “Sorry,” I say. We jolt forward again and keep going. “What’s her name?”

  “Wicked.” The word is hot on the back of my neck and heat zigzags through me.

  I laugh. “You’re kidding.” My breathing quickens, but I think it’s to do with the sensation of being engulfed by Drew.

  He instructs me on how to sit, my posture and leg position. After a while, he releases the arm around my belly and lets me balance alone.

  “Have you ever ridden a horse with your eyes shut?” I ask.

  “Nope. But I’ll give it a go if you like?”

  “Not today, thanks.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve got them wide open.” He chuckles. “You’re very brave.” His tone becomes intimate. “Now I’ll show you how to turn and halt.” His hands cover mine as he shows me how to hold the reins and guide the horse to do what I need her to. “Okay, let’s start.” Drew makes a sound with his tongue and Wicked takes a pace. I lurch backward but straighten myself quickly. There’s the clip-clop of hooves as we withdraw from the noise of the house and stables. I take some deep breaths and relax into the saddle to absorb the bumps.

  “You’re doing great,” Drew says.

  “Do you know the ranch well?”

  “Yup. I used to ride here a lot when I was a kid. Brett often came with me and my family. But until my father and I… visited, I hadn’t been back since my mother died. It wasn’t until recently I found out Dad owned it.”

  “Now you own it. Was horse riding your mom’s thing, then?”

  “And my dad’s. Though he didn’t do much of it after she died.”

  I listen to the bird calls and notice the breeze in my hair. The aroma of eucalyptus is thick in the air. It’s peaceful and I begin to relax. I ask Drew about his week and he rattles off a list of obstacles he had to solve. I sense he needs this time out. I hadn’t stopped to consider the responsibility he’s had no choice but to take on.

  “The threat from Lucas is becoming very real. I may no longer head up Vega Corp. and my home may even have to go during the process of splitting assets.”

  “That’s awful. What will you do?”

  “Part of me has imposter syndrome. I sometimes think I don’t deserve any of this anyway and I don’t believe I’m good enough to take over from the great Anthony Vega. But then I want to fight for the company for my father’s sake. Except, I wonder if he would oppose Lucas. Lucas is the son Dad wanted me to be. Maybe my dad would think Vega Corp. is in better hands if Lucas takes control.”

  “I wish I knew what to say. Have you spoken to Jamison?”

  “Not in detail. I need to work out this dilemma on my own. This is between me and my father and my half-brother. Everyone else has a natural bias. Sailing with you has helped me pull my head out of it all though. So, thanks.”

  I giggle. “Sailing can solve everything but world hunger.”

  “I’m a member of a club in Sydney and at the end of last year, I clocked up a lot
of experience crewing for other boats. It gave me the right work/life balance. I haven’t had enough of that lately, but it seems impossible. Rather than criticize my father as I used to, I sympathize with him—with how he struggled to find the balance.”

  “Is that how you got involved in financing Australia’s challenge for the America’s Cup—through your club?”

  “Yes. There’s another problem to be solved. They need better management on the team. They keep turning to me, but I don’t have time to deal with it. But enough about my issues. Let’s post a short trot. I’m sure you want to pick up the pace.”

  His palm is across my stomach again as he pulls me into his lap and grasps the reins. When he says, “Ready?” his lips touch my ear and a shiver trips into my belly and between my thighs. I fight the desire to twist around and hold him—he’s having a tough time and there’s no one to comfort him.

  “This is how you post a trot,” he says. The horse takes a few quick steps before Drew’s body lifts out of the saddle a touch, then drops down, bringing me with him. We keep moving in an up-down motion and pick up speed. In my dark little world, it’s a thrilling sensation, like sailing Sassy in the dead of night. I’m safe with Drew’s hold on me and whoop with excitement.

  When we stop, I’m breathing hard and laughing and there’s the sound of a waterfall or a river. Drew releases me and dismounts.

  He places his hands on my hips. “Turn side-on and slip off. I’ve got you.” I trust he won’t allow me to faceplant from the horse and slide into him. He makes sure I have my feet square on the ground before letting me go and I hear him lead the horse away.

  “Are we near a river?” I ask.

  “Yup. Want a drink?” He’s next to me again and I walk with him toward where the rapids are. I stop scuffing small rocks and dust and sink into grass. “We can hang out here,” he says and pulls me down with him. “Gotta get my boots off.”

  He still hates shoes. “Ew. Got a peg?” I say, holding my nose.

  He retaliates by placing a cold soda on the exposed skin where my T-shirt has ridden up.

  “There are apples and muffins to eat. Hungry?” I shake my head, take off the helmet, and pull off my boots. I look toward the sound of the river, imagining it in my mind’s eye. Drew opens his drink and crunches into an apple beside me. I realize we’re in the middle of nowhere, alone.

  “How’d you like horse riding, then?” he asks.

  “It’s the perfect combo—peaceful but when we went fast, exhilarating. It’d be a bit easier if I could see.”

  He chews for a while longer, taking two more bites. “One day soon,” he finally says.

  I don’t entirely trust myself to believe that the flashes of light I’ve seen lately are actually there. Except imaginary or not, they’re more regular. And sometimes it’s not so black inside my head, but more of a dark gray, as if there’s a light source sneaking into a dark room. But what if it never improves beyond that?

  We lie side by side in the grass and he describes the clouds to me—how one resembles Jamison and another an upside-down Christmas tree. Our arms lightly brush together and every part of me wants him to hold me. Inside, my body buzzes with anticipation. I feel him pull up onto his elbow.

  “Good to be out?” he says, his voice low.

  I work out he must be hovering over me, and I slowly reach out to stroke his face. He doesn’t speak as my fingertips touch his cheek and trace along his jaw to his chin.

  “Have you forgotten what I look like?” he asks.

  “Of course not.” But I keep tracing my fingers up and over his lips as if I’m trying to see him with my fingertips. My gut lurches because I’m knowingly pulling him in; he’s a fish on a hook. Desire wades through me, hot and buzzing, and slowly, he comes closer. He touches the edge of his nose to my nose. My breath quickens. There’s the sharp rise of his chest as his mouth covers mine. I hold his face, tugging him to me to deepen the kiss. There’s a rumble deep in his throat and he fists my hair, urging me to roll on my side. With the sound of the river and the warmth of the sun on my skin, I relax and enjoy the build of heat between my legs and the surge of need for him.

  I gasp as he tugs my head gently, exposing my throat. His mouth is hot and soft against my neck and it’s like I’m falling, falling into him. I let go and allow myself to fall. Being here with Drew feels exquisitely right. I crush him to me and recognize if we keep going, I’ll rip off his clothes. Drew must sense the same thing because he pulls away. Our mouths separate, and we’re panting.

  Neither of us speak when he tucks me closer, holding me as we listen to the river. Our chests pressed together, the beat of our hearts slows. I take in the sensation of the grass below us, imagine the clouds tripping above us, and I snuggle, my head tucked beneath his chin. We could be on a beach in Samoa or on Sassy.

  Truly, nothing has changed between us.

  In that moment, I no longer doubt I want to be with him. I’ve grown used to Jamison—to everyone who works at the house—I like them even. It’s now clear I love Drew enough to ride out this storm with him and to work out how to live with the media attention. I can’t leave him. Not again. Not a third time.

  My nose bumps Drew’s cheek. “Do you still want me, even if I never see again?”

  “Yes. Yes. How many times shall I say yes?” His lips brush mine as he speaks.

  I crush my mouth to his, hard and needy, sweep my tongue between his teeth, the swell of love and need making me press my body against his. The fight to keep him at a distance, to wait until my sight returns, weakens. It’s replaced by a more demanding struggle to fully and freely uncage the love for Drew I have locked away. This fight is not with Connor, the Pacific, the law, or my parents. It’s with myself. And it might be the hardest battle yet.

  Drew

  I’ve never kissed a girl and felt as if time stopped. I’m giddy with the fact Shae has finally let me close again. She came to me. I could sense her desire in her kiss and heard the longing in her voice when she asked me if I still wanted her.

  I kiss her like she’s mine, not like I’m worried she might reject me at any moment. Eventually, I’m the one who pulls away to stop myself from undressing her on the riverbank. I’m heady with the craving throbbing through me. I want to tell her I love her as much as ever, but I keep things light—she’s never said those words back to me, and I won’t put any pressure on her.

  I need to walk to distract myself. I pull her up with me.

  “Come,” I say, my throat thick with desire. I place an arm around her to ensure she doesn’t stumble, and we wander along the river. I breathe deeply to slow my pulse and when we reach a big, flat rock which edges out over the rapids, I guide Shae to step onto it. I straddle her, keeping her safe from slipping in. Our bare feet dangle over the rapids, a foot above the icy, splashing water. I could do with showering in it.

  Breathing in the apple scent of Shae, I mull over the setting sun—full-sized and heavy with reds and oranges, it seems like it’s throbbing in the sky. I wish she could see it. I describe it to her, along with the river and the countryside surrounding us.

  “We could be in Samoa. I have island Drew back,” she says.

  “You always had island Drew.”

  “It must be hard.” Her voice is slightly above a whisper. “Visiting this station… after your dad’s accident.”

  Dad had been on the edge of my thoughts all day. “It is weird, riding without him—without Mom even. It drives home the idea it’s just me now.” My arms are around her waist and Shae clasps them. I kiss her temple. “But I’m glad I came. It’s as if I’m saying goodbye—saying it at the funeral was too soon, too hard. But it feels right today.”

  “You’ve had a tough year, haven’t you?”

  The best year and the worst year. I observe the sun, sliced in half by the horizon. It oozes oranges and reds across the sky.

  “When I was here with my dad, the last time, I didn’t know who I was or how everything was going to
work out with him. I was afraid I’d made the wrong decision and worried we wouldn’t hit it off, and he’d grow impatient or disappointed in me. But now, I get the impression he’d approve of me. Funny how even when we’re supposedly adults, we need our parents to approve of us.”

  “You’ve done an amazing job stepping into his shoes.”

  “I don’t believe I’ll ever fully step into his shoes, but it’s coming together.” I don’t mention how Lucas has already stepped into his shoes better than I have. “But that’s all boring stuff. You, on the other hand,” I wind a lock of her hair around my finger, “are far more interesting.”

  Shae turns her face to mine, twists her body for me to find her mouth. I kiss her until the sun sinks and the cool night air blows in. I’m not sure what’s going on between us today, if this is some temporary intimacy that will vanish once we return home, but this time I cannot stop myself from touching her. I need to remain intimate and to secure this loving feeling flowing through us.

  I compartmentalize everything else but Shae, and bury my face in her hair, nibbling her ear, licking and biting at the skin of her neck and shoulders. As she relaxes in my arms, my fingers loosen her belt and slip inside her jeans. She rests her back and head against my chest and my body cups her as my fingertips dip and nuzzle between her legs. She opens them wider, allowing me more freedom to stroke her.

  My free hand slips under her T-shirt and into her bra. She arches into me and pushes her mound against my fingers, a moan skidding from her. I don’t rush but take in the texture and taste of her sun-bronzed, smooth skin, the smell of her silky hair when it brushes against me. My hands move slowly, gently, drawing out the moment, and when I nudge my erection against her, I wish I’d brought contraception. The thought of thrusting inside her elicits a groan from me and I nibble at her earlobe, tweak her nipple, and circle my fingers between her legs faster. Her gasps grow louder until she’s shuddering and bucking, then waning against me, a flag blowing in the breeze until the wind diminishes.