Impulsion

by Jamie Magee

  “Are you riding today?”

  Both Wyatt and Harley said yes at once.

  “Then you need to change, Wyatt. We’re almost done tacking.”

  Wyatt stood and looked back at Harley. His eyes fell deep into hers. As far as he was concerned, they were still in their own world; this right here was just going through the motions of life. “You want to walk him while I change? Then we can wrap him.”

  “Do that. I want to see him walk,” Camille said.

  Wyatt reached past where Harley was still standing to turn off the hose. She was utterly aware of how his hand grazed her arm, as he leaned a little longer than he needed to.

  Harley’s head was spinning, her heart was racing. She was sure her skin was flushed as she unhooked the cross ties on Danny Boy and attached his lead.

  Harley had walked out of the side doorway by the wash stall and was leading Danny Boy to the side paddock.

  “Lead him up front, better footing,” Camille said.

  Being at her side was not making Harley’s head, her emotions, all of it, any better. This place was like a wicked time warp. If they had been caught like that years ago, there was no telling how her life would have ended up. At this point, Harley didn’t know if that would have afforded her and Wyatt more time or less.

  “I’m only going to say this once, Harley,” Camille said as she stopped them just before making their way into the gate that led to the front. “You break my boy’s heart again, and I will be your worst nightmare. I will make your mother look like a kitten compared to me.”

  Harley held her stare, swallowed her emotions, then opened the gate to lead Danny Boy in. How the hell was she supposed to tell her that it wasn’t Wyatt’s heart at risk, it was hers?

  Wyatt had kissed her like he owned her, touched her body like it had only been his, like it would only be his. During that moment, that’s all she could ever want. Now, after…it hurt. For more than one reason, her body hurt with want, her soul hurt from the separating, her mind hurt as she kept imagining that girl upstairs under Wyatt, him touching her that way.

  “He’s not putting much weight on that leg,” Camille said after a few minutes, obviously trying to start a conversation that had nothing to do with killing anyone.

  Right then, Harley heard, “You low life, selfish, ornery son of a bitch!” coming from the second story doorway.

  The apartment upstairs had two ways out; one was through the stairway that Harley could clearly see, and the other was the one inside of the barn that Harley had always used. Last she was at this barn, no one used that outside doorway. That was one of Camille’s rules. There used to be a stallion boarding under that stairway that would break a board in his stall every time Wyatt or Truman would run down the stairs.

  That blonde Harley had met in passing threw down a bag from the stairs, then continued to yell inside the apartment as she grabbed another bag.

  Harley glanced at Camille; the woman had turned rigid. Camille never yelled outside of the ring, but you could always see when she was furious - and this moment was one of those times.

  Harley was half-mad, half-elated. Mad that Wyatt thought she was a sure thing, that he decided at least to clean out his apartment, elated that the girl was that easy to replace.

  The girl charged down the stairs, threw her bags in the car, tossed a glare in Harley’s direction, then got in and peeled away. Harley almost lost control of Danny Boy; he’d jolted back, his eyes were wide. That was a new development. Harley halfway considered that the wreck they were in had marked him in more than a physical way, but the thought never surfaced. She was confused. That green Honda almost backed into a four-wheeler that was approaching, a four-wheeler that Wyatt was driving.

  Wyatt cursed in her direction, “Slow the fuck down!” then looked at Harley. “You all right? You have him?”

  Camille had grabbed hold of Danny Boy’s halter, and she and Harley were both running their hands down his neck as he stood between them.

  “Tell him to get his ass down here,” Camille said to Wyatt as he pulled his four-wheeler closer to the gate and got off.

  He’d changed; now he was in his jeans and a white T-shirt that fit just right. Just watching him walk across the driveway was causing Harley’s breath to hitch. All man now, she thought, not a trace of the boy.

  Right as Wyatt went to climb the stairs, Truman came out pulling his shirt on.

  “How many times, Truman?” Camille scorned as he moved down the stairs.

  “Last time, I swear. It’s over.”

  “She could have killed Harley,” Wyatt said through gritted teeth. With wide eyes, Truman looked at Harley; she shook her head to tell him she was fine. Danny Boy had put her through worse, no doubt there.

  “She’s not coming back here. Don’t even dare to ask,” Camille said as she turned and walked to the gate. “No more crazy ass girls in that apartment, ever again.”

  Wyatt jumped the fence and walked around Danny Boy, running his hand over his back. “I’m thinking he is not going to be fond of any cars in the near future. When we turn him out, we’ll have to use a middle paddock.”

  Harley’s eyes met his for a second. Before this morning, she wasn’t planning on Danny Boy being here long enough even to claim a place to be turned out. As soon as he was able to do that, he should be fit to travel.

  Truman had come to the fence.

  “What started it this time?” Wyatt asked him.

  Truman lifted his shoulder. “She was late for work again the other day. They fired her, and she wanted me to pay her car note.”

  “You’ve been with that girl for less than a month. She’s lost two jobs and acted a fool ten times over. Mom is not letting her come back, you know that, right?”

  “It is what it is, I guess.”

  “You say that now,” Wyatt said, shaking his head. “If you don’t slow your roll, you’re going to end up just like Easton. You can only help the ones that want help.”

  “That’s what I told her. That’s what made her mad. She started calling me a silver spoon asshole. I’m done.” Truman glanced in Harley’s direction. “I hope she didn’t say anything disrespectful to you the other day.”

  “Not easily offended. What would I have against her?”

  “Nothing,” Truman said with a sly grin. “She’s just good friends with Dorcas.”

  “And just like her, a born gold digger, always looking for a free ride,” Wyatt said in a tone that was near lethal.

  “I said that, too,” Truman said with a wry grin as he waved, then walked away.

  “What happened to Easton?” Harley asked.

  Wyatt shook his head. “Long, dark road. Tried to help a girl we met on the road, didn’t end so hot in a lot of ways. Changed him for sure. She used to stay with us in that apartment. I think Mom’s had her fill of wild women at this barn.”

  “Mr. No Relationship, not-gonna-love-anyone tried to help a girl? Lives with a girl?”

  Wyatt’s eyes met hers. “He didn’t love her. You know how we were raised ‘round here. You say what you mean and mean what you say. Help when you can. Fight for what’s yours. Never let it go.”

  She had to look away from him. She heard exactly what she wanted to in his words but told herself he was talking about Easton, not them. She couldn’t take this, his shifting moods, falling hard for him one day, moving to get over him the next, only to fall harder right after that.

  She would go to that creek tonight, they needed to talk. She wanted to know who he was today. She wanted him to know that under it all, she was still the same girl that was his long ago.

  “A lot of aggression for a few weeks,” Harley said just to say something.

  She could feel this electric current moving between her and Wyatt, that building power they always had. As casual as he was acting, one second she would think that entire scene in the wash stall was nothing more than a vivid fantasy, the next, when he would let his stare linger a bit longer, brush into her as he pas
sed her by, made her believe that it had not only happened but was liable to happen again at any moment.

  “She followed him home from the pub one night. The only way he gets her to leave is by picking a fight with her. Happens every time he gets off shift.”

  “Just passion then, huh?” Harley said.

  Wyatt looked right at her. “No. Passion is between lovers. All that was is a one-night stand that lasted too many nights.”

  Harley moved her attention back to Danny Boy, hoping the flush in her cheeks would fade. “Was Truman living with Dorcas before? Rooming with her up there?”

  Wyatt shook his head, nearly smirked. “Truman moved out the day you left. Mom thought I needed space. Dorcas took over while I was gone. When I came back, Easton and me stayed there until he had to go take care of his own and my house was built. Truman has only been back up there for a few months, and if he doesn’t watch out it’s going to be a short stay.”

  Her glance shot to him, but he wasn’t looking her way; he was leading Danny Boy back in. “Let’s get you wrapped.”

  Where in the hell was he sleeping now? It had to be close enough for him to drive a four-wheeler to it, but this farm was massive; half of it was on one side of the main street, the other on this side, miles and miles in each direction.

  Camille was no easier on Harley that day. Harley not only rode the same horses from the day before, but also helped teach the afternoon classes.

  That entire day, Wyatt was no more than fifty yards from her at any given time, but they were never alone. They still seemed to say a million words. He was there when she untacked her horse, his body brushing against hers as he lifted the saddle, their hands grazing against one another as he helped her mount, when they fed the horses, every chance, really. Harley barely said an actual word, and a few times it took Camille saying her name twice to get her attention.

  Dinner was the same. She sat next to Wyatt, and not because Ava had pushed her to do so. It was the smallest dinner she had ever had at the Dorans’. Wyatt’s grandparents and parents were still there, but beyond them it was only Wyatt, Truman, and Harley. At times, it seemed more like a business meeting. One side of the business telling the other what kind of day they had. The plans that were laid out to gather the hay they needed. What equipment needed to be serviced or replaced. What students were horse showing, when, and what transportation was needed.

  Harley sat in awe of it. It’s not like she had been to a lot of business meetings, but she had overheard the ones her father had at her family home, she had watched Collin on conference calls with his father’s business, seen her mother organize charity events.

  In those instances, there was one person calling the shots; if the others spoke up, it was almost done to outshine another. Collaboration was stiff, always had an underlying agenda. That wasn’t the case here. Everyone’s input was needed; they were all leaders. They did challenge one another, but it was done so in a way to help, not hold back. That was impressive, simply because Willowhaven Farms was more or less a corporation by its own rights. It most definitely was not a backyard hobby.

  Harley could only imagine how much more successful those she knew at home could be if they worked like this, if they had this much passion for what they did.

  The Dorans just seemed to have more soul. For them, it was all about bringing others up with them, not conquering others. The money was just icing on the cake.

  After dinner, as everyone moved to settle in for the night, Wyatt’s stare caught hers; she gave him a shy smile, then made her way upstairs.

  That one glance was asking if she was going to meet him, and that one smile told him she would in just a while.

  As she was undressing to get in the shower, her phone started to ring. It was Collin.

  She answered, saying, “Jury’s out. He may or may not still be pissed.”

  Collin hesitated, then laughed. “I’m betting not. You sound happy.”

  “Another good day.”

  “As opposed to yesterday, when you didn’t mention his name.”

  Harley sat down on the edge of her bed. “I think the tension got to us today, we had a moment. I’m going to meet him later.”

  “A moment? That deal where you don’t talk, but you do?”

  Collin knew everything there was to know about Wyatt. At one time he thought if Harley talked about it, she could move past it, but that only made it worse.

  “Yeah…”

  Harley heard Quinn’s voice in the background, asking what he wanted to drink with dinner. “You’re still in Wellington?” The plan was for him to be home days ago. Harley didn’t even think to ask him how his flight was; that was how hung up in her own thoughts she was.

  “No…I’m home.”

  Harley furrowed her brow, trying to read his tone. It sounded amused, but concerned at the same time.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Well, I’m supposed to tell you I’m having an affair, and we are suppose to figure us out before our mothers come back, before your dad’s party.”

  “Collin…” Harley said slowly.

  She wanted this masquerade over with, for his benefit more than hers. He and Quinn were serious, and being at Willowhaven, in this universe, made her not give a damn what upset it would cause, at least until she thought of her father, admitting to him that she had lied to him for years about Collin. At the same time, she didn’t want Collin to catch hell for any of it. Right now, she had a sinking feeling that had just happened.

  “Dad stopped by, wanted to take me to dinner. Quinn answered the door…in my shirt, and nothing else.”

  “Holy shit,” Harley breathed. Conrad Grant was every bit as intimidating as Garrison Tatum. “What did you tell him?”

  “I didn’t have a chance to say much. He pulled me outside, said I needed to figure out what I wanted. That if I planned to be with you, that meant that there would be no more flings on the side. That you didn’t do that to a girl like you. Whether I wanted you or not, I needed to confess my sins and ask for forgiveness. Oh, and that Garrison Tatum was his closest friend and if I forced that man to die hating him, he would siege my trust.”

  “What is he? Hypocritical? How many affairs has he had? He doesn’t even try to hide it,” Harley said in Collin’s defense. He never took anything anyone said personally, often found it humorous. Harley only took it personally when it was about him or her father. As far as she was concerned, the others deserved what was said about them; sow what you reap.

  It was burning Harley that his father thought Collin was just like him. Collin was one of the most faithful men she had met in her life. He was loyal to his friends, his family, and whoever he was with; that was more than rare on the playing field they were raised on.

  Collin laughed. “Oh, but you see, he said I could not cheat on a girl like you. He’s said more than once you were your father’s daughter, that you were a threat to this world because you did not care about what others thought.”

  “Obviously, I do, though. My fake boyfriend just got busted for cheating on me, and I’m doing my best to figure out how to get you out of it.”

  “I’m not in anything.”

  “This is stupid, Collin. You just need to tell him.”

  Harley heard him open a sliding glass door, close it, the distant sounds of the city, the wind blowing by his phone.

  “Dad was coming by for more than one reason. Apparently, our mothers are fighting over your ring.”

  “Ring?”

  “Right, family jewels. My mother wants you to wear my grandmother’s ring. Yours wants me to ask your father for his mother’s ring.”

  “Yeah, only so she can kill me and steal it,” Harley spat back. “They are awful certain you need a ring, aren’t they?”

  It was becoming evident that this upcoming birthday party was going to be harder to avoid, that maybe their ‘growing apart’ excuse never had a chance to hold water.

  Harley never knew her grandmother, obviously, but sh
e knew of her, knew that her mother could not stand her, and she never met her either. Apparently, Harley’s mother had always wanted a three carat canary diamond that belonged to the late Mrs. Tatum.

  When Harley’s grandmother died, the will gave it to Garrison, with the testimony that the jewel was to be given to a soul that would honor the Tatum bloodline. The will said ‘soul’ because Garrison was not married at the time and there was no way for anyone to know if he would even have children, or if they would be girls or boys.

  Harley’s mother was apparently mortified when Garrison gave her a different ring when he proposed. He’d told her that the ring was meant to stay with his bloodline, and if his bloodline ended with him, the will his mother left clearly stated that the ring would go to her favorite charity—a soul that would honor the bloodline.

  Every occasion, every time Garrison gave Claire a gift of a jewel, Harley saw that hope in her mother’s eyes that the ring would be there. It never was.

  Claire even asked him when he was sick a few years ago to amend his will, to state the ring would go to Harley. He refused. Said unless a man came forward that he saw fit to carry on his bloodline, that ring would go to the charity his mother had selected decades before.

  The whole ordeal was stupid in Harley’s mind. And when her mother put her on the spot, right in front of her father, and told her to tell him that she wanted that jewel, that legacy, Harley looked right at her father as he was lying in a hospital bed and said, “I trust my father to give that ring to someone who deserves it.” At the time, Harley was telling him two things: one, she needed him to survive; two, she needed his blessing, wanted it, when the time came.

  Harley knew the only reason Collin’s mother and her mother were arguing about this right now was that Harley’s mother did not want that ring to be lost, given away. Knowing Sylvia Grant, she thought it was more fitting for Harley to wear a ring from their family since Harley would be taking their name.

  Collin took the time to laugh at Harley’s rare snide remark. “He gave me my grandmother’s ring. I think my mother thought if I already had this, it would head off your mother.”