World Enough and Time

by Lauren Gallagher

  She laughed. “I didn’t think he had it in him. Who knew?”

  “I certainly do.”

  “Ugh, I don’t want to know.”

  We came to a fork in the trail.

  “Left or right?” I asked.

  She pursed her lips. “Hmm, how about left? Lazybones here could use a run up a few hills.”

  “Left it is.” We followed the trail to the left. This was a narrower trail, but still wide enough for us to ride side by side. It was also much more hilly than the other direction, and although we didn’t like to encourage our horses to race, neither of us could resist the occasional race up one of the steeper inclines.

  “So you’re really going to see him again?” she asked. “Like, keep seeing him?”

  I nodded. “Planning on it, yes.”

  “You think this is going to, you know—”

  “Turn into a relationship?”

  “Yeah.”

  Shaking my head, I said, “Nah. I don’t want anything more.”

  “Can’t blame you. I mean, I can vouch for him. He’s a good guy, he really is.” She paused. “Just, you know, be careful. God only knows how he’s doing after that breakup.”

  I shrugged. “Perfect for me, then. Like I said, I don’t want anything, and he’s leaving in a few months anyway.”

  “Well, yeah, but what if you get attached? Or he does?”

  “He’s leaving, so it doesn’t matter. He hasn’t said anything about that, by the way. Are you sure he’s moving?”

  She nodded. “Olivia—that’s his ex—told me a while back that he’d gotten into the program he wanted at Stanford. It was his top choice and, from what I hear, they offered him a pretty sweet deal. I mean, I don’t know how scholarships or whatever work with doctoral programs, but Olivia said he was beside himself about it. So, no way in hell he’s backing out of something like that.”

  Disappointment tried to tug at my gut, but I ignored it. “That pretty much settles it, then. He’s leaving, so we can’t do much more than what we’re doing.”

  Susan snorted. “And I’m sure you’re terribly disappointed with what you’re doing with him.”

  I put a hand to my forehead and sighed melodramatically. “Terribly.”

  Calypso fidgeted when one of the hills came into view. Bridger snorted and chomped his bit.

  “Think they want to race?” Susan asked.

  “Hmm, I don’t know. Maybe they—” I dug my heels into Calypso’s sides and he shot into a gallop.

  “You cheater!” Susan called out.

  I laughed, standing up in the stirrups and pushing the reins forward so I didn’t hold him back. Behind us, Bridger’s hoof beats crescendoed as he tried to catch up. I urged Calypso on, squinting as the wind made my eyes tear up. The horses thundered up the hill, wind whipping at manes and clothes. Bridger was nipping on our heels, so I tapped Calypso’s sides with my heels to encourage him to run just a little faster.

  They’d nearly caught up with us when we reached the top. There, we brought them back down to a trot, then a walk. Even though the horses had done the running, Susan and I were out of breath, laughing and patting their necks as we continued down the trail.

  “That wasn’t fair,” she said, panting.

  “Just keeping you on your toes.”

  She pointed at me and gave me a menacing glare, though her poorly hidden smile killed the effect. “I’m going to get you back for that.”

  “Yeah, we’ll see about—” My cell phone vibrated in my pocket. “Oh for Christ’s sake.” While I fished it out, Susan craned her neck.

  “Gavin?” she asked.

  “Probably. Since we had the audacity to take a trail ride on a nice day.” I looked at my phoned, and my stomach lurched.

  Matt.

  “Oh fuck,” I muttered.

  “Boss man?”

  “My ex.” I put the phone to my ear. “Hey.”

  “Hey, Dani.” His voice made bile rise in the back of my throat.

  I coughed. “Um, what’s up?”

  “I found some of your stuff while I was going through some boxes,” he said. “Not a whole lot, but would you mind coming by to get it? Like, soon?” The disgust in his voice set my teeth on edge.

  “How soon?”

  “Today, if you can.”

  I laughed. “Jesus, Matt, you think I can just drop everything and come over? Listen, I’ve got a lot going on these days.” Susan and I exchanged mischievous looks and I smothered another laugh. “I’ll call you in a few days, but I can probably come by this weekend.”

  He huffed. “Fine. Just, as soon as you can, okay?”

  “Of course,” I muttered. After I’d hung up, I swore under my breath.

  “What’s his problem?”

  “Apparently he found some of my stuff in the apartment.” I shoved my phone back into my pocket. “You know, it’s lovely how he always sounds so fucking thrilled whenever he calls about stuff like this. Like, how dare there be any evidence that I ever set foot in that goddamned place.”

  “Ugh, he’s a bastard,” Susan said with a dismissive gesture.

  “You’re telling me. After I get my stuff, he’ll probably have an exorcist in just to make sure I’m completely gone.”

  We rode on, talking about the horses and Gavin instead of my ex, but the phone conversation lingered in the back of my mind. Matt’s efforts to evict me from his life and remove all reminders of my existence hurt, but not as much as they used to. In fact, it occurred to me that this was the first time my ex had crossed my mind since before Connor and I met down by the waterfront last night. I couldn’t help but smile to myself. Nothing removed Matt from my thoughts like a night of sweaty, desperate sex with Connor.

  And I think I could go for some more Connor-induced amnesia tonight.

  Chapter Nine

  The moment Connor walked into the restaurant, I knew there was something I’d hoped he would help me forget, but I couldn’t remember what it was. Mission accomplished, I thought when I stood to greet him with a quick kiss.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “Traffic was insane.”

  “It’s always insane in this city, isn’t it?”

  He laughed. “True enough, true enough.”

  “That’s one thing I just haven’t gotten used to yet,” I said. “The roads are confusing enough without all the traffic.”

  “Yeah, I hear that.” He quickly perused the menu before setting it aside. “It’s one thing I’m not going to miss about this place.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Miss?”

  “Yeah, I’m—” His gaze shifted and his cheeks darkened a little. “I’m leaving the area in a few months.”

  So it’s true. “Oh. Um, where to?”

  “Northern California,” he said. “I was accepted into the doctorate program at Stanford.”

  “Wow, congratulations.”

  “Thanks.” He smiled. “They were my top choice. Not that I particularly want to spend five years of my life in California, but…” He shrugged. “There’s a price for everything, isn’t there?”

  Indeed there is. I cleared my throat. “So, hopefully this doesn’t make me sound like a complete idiot, but what exactly does one do with a degree in linguistics?”

  “Well, I’m specializing in Forensic Linguistics.”

  “Forensic Linguistics?”

  “Yep. It’s pretty cool, I think,” he said. “They study things like suicide notes, threat letters, that sort of thing. See if they can identify who wrote them based on how they use language. Word choices, stuff like that.”

  I absently ran my finger along the edge of my menu. “Isn’t it pretty obvious who wrote a suicide note?”

  “If it’s actually a suicide, yes. But sometimes it’s a forgery to cover up a murder.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded. “Or, as another example, it’s a way of determining if a confession is legitimate or forged. When someone has a certain speech pattern or writing pattern, then
their confession or suicide note deviates from that, it can raise some red flags.”

  “Wouldn’t most people’s normal patterns change if they’re confessing to a crime or writing a suicide note?” I asked. “I mean, I would think stress changes the way people think and speak.”

  “Sure,” he said. “But there are indicators that it’s someone else’s speech pattern. Like, the order of certain words. Say if someone usually says ‘then we’, but their confession is full of ‘we then’. It’s subtle, but enough to raise questions.”

  “Wow, I’ve never heard of that. Sounds like an interesting job.”

  “I like to think so.” He shrugged. “It’s probably excruciatingly boring to some people. I find it fascinating.”

  “I can see why,” I said. “I didn’t realize that field even existed.”

  “Neither did I, until a few years ago,” he said. “I was asking an advisor about majors and all of that, and said that I was interested in linguistics, but didn’t know what the hell I’d ever do with it. He gave me some information about forensic linguistics, and I never looked back.” Connor took a drink. “So, as long as we’re talking about careers, what made you decide to train horses for a living?”

  I shrugged. “I grew up around them. My family has a cattle ranch outside of Cheyenne, and horses were just part of the business. Figured I’d just keep doing the cattle thing, but a friend got me into jumping, and then another got me into dressage.”

  He rested his elbows in front of him and folded his hands under his chin. “Now, forgive my ignorance, but what exactly is dressage?”

  I laughed. “If I try to explain it, we’ll be here all night.”

  “Are you suggesting I’m unintelligent?” He put a hand to his chest in mock offense.

  “Not at all,” I said. “It’s just that hard to explain unless you know a thing or two about horses.”

  “Which I definitely do not. Just, you know, in layman’s terms.”

  I turned my nose up and sniffed haughtily. “Dressage people are above ‘layman’s terms’, Mr. Graham.”

  He chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Dear God, it’s one of those sports, isn’t it? The snobbiest of the snobs?”

  Nodding, I laughed. “Yeah, basically. But at least you called it a sport, so I’ll forgive you.”

  “Well, it’s in the Olympics, isn’t it?” he said. “I do believe being a sport is a requirement for that.”

  “You’d be amazed at how many people don’t think it’s a sport, since they think the horse does all the work.”

  “I’ve wondered about that, to be honest with you.” He grinned. “So I assume you’re going to tell me that’s not the case?”

  “Most definitely not,” I said. “I use everything when I ride. Legs, abs, butt—”

  “Explains a lot.” He winked and picked up his drink.

  I laughed. “Yeah, so, the horse definitely doesn’t do all the work.”

  “Okay, so it’s definitely a sport, then,” he said. “But, what is it, exactly?”

  I pursed my lips, then took a breath. “Well, the name originates from a French word meaning ‘training’. It's kind of like figure skating or gymnastics or ballet; the horse and rider learn patterns and movements that become sequentially harder as you move up the levels.”

  “And the purpose of the patterns and movements?”

  “To demonstrate that horse and rider are working together, basically,” I said. “Like dance partners. As if they’re thinking with one mind instead of one responding to the other’s cues.”

  “I suppose that’s a bit more complicated with an animal than another human?”

  I laughed. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think it’s easier to get on the same page with a horse than most humans.”

  He chuckled. “For some reason, I don’t doubt that at all. So how many levels are there?”

  “You start with Training Level, which is relatively simple, then there’s First through Fourth. After that, you move into the upper levels like Prix St. George, Intermediaire, and Grand Prix. Grand Prix is where you start seeing Olympic-level competitors.”

  “So where are you, as far as a level?”

  “Depends on the horse,” I said. “I’m working with a few at Training Level, a few at some of the mid-levels. I’ve competed as high as Prix St. George, and I’ve got one now that’s getting ready to move into that level.”

  “Sounds like it might be fun to watch.”

  “I’d suggest coming to a show if I didn’t think it would bore you to tears,” I said.

  “Actually, it sounds kind of interesting. If you don’t mind my showing up, I might just take you up on that.”

  “Your funeral,” I said. “Two weeks from now, I’ll be up on Whidbey Island for a few days. I know it’s a bit of a drive, plus the ferry ride, but—”

  “I’d love to.”

  “Don’t blame me if you’re bored,” I laughed. “I can usually drag a guy to one show, but after that, he’d sooner chew off his own arm.”

  He grinned. “Well, assuming you’ll be dressed the way the dressage riders dress at the Olympics…”

  “You’ve watched it?”

  “I’ve caught it a few times, tried to figure out just what the hell it was,” he said. “But I certainly noticed those outfits.”

  “Filthy man,” I said.

  Another grin. “Isn’t that why you’re out with me?”

  “Damn right.” Then I paused. Awkward silence threatened to set in, and I remembered the unanswered questions lurking in the back of my mind. “Speaking of which…”

  His eyebrows jumped. “Hmm?”

  “Okay, so, if you’re leaving in a few months, that means this…” Gesturing back and forth at the two of us, I trailed off, not quite sure how to put it into words.

  “Could get a little complicated.”

  I nodded. “So it’s probably something temporary. Which is fine for me. I mean, you’re moving, and I’m still fresh out of another relationship.”

  “As am I.” He paused. “In all honesty, I’m perfectly okay with doing this and knowing it’s just a short term thing.”

  “I don’t have a problem with it,” I said. “As long as we’re on the same page. Same expectations.”

  “Which boils down to going out, having fun, and having a lot of sex, right?”

  I laughed. “Exactly.”

  He smiled. “Well, I’m okay with that arrangement if you are.”

  “I’m definitely not complaining about it.” I leaned forward and rested my forearms on the table. “So, I guess if it’s just a short term thing, then maybe we should use the time we have and get in as much as possible.”

  The smile became a delicious grin. “You know, I love the way you think.” Then he looked past me and gestured to get someone’s attention. “Check, please.”

  Chapter Ten

  Connor’s apartment was closer than mine, so we went there. When he got out of the Jeep, though, he cursed under his breath.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, closing the Jeep door with my hip as I pulled my purse onto my shoulder.

  “Roommate’s home.” He nodded toward another parking space. “I thought he was out tonight.”

  “Should we go to my place, then?”

  “You think I can wait that long?” He smiled and put his arms around me. “We’ll just have to be quiet.” His kiss was gentle, but more than enough to make my pulse race.

  “I think you’re seriously overestimating my ability to stay quiet in bed with you.”

  “You’ll just have to try.”

  His stubble brushed my chin, and I shivered. “Maybe you’ll have to keep my mouth occupied then.”

  He laughed softly. “Oh, I will.” He kissed me, teasing my tongue with the tip of his. Then he broke the kiss and whispered, “Come on, let’s go.”

  Upstairs, after he’d let us into his apartment, the tinny sounds of televised voices came from down the hall. When we stepped into the living room, two g
uys sitting on the couch looked up from watching a movie.

  One lifted his arm off the other’s shoulders and stood. “Oh, hey, Connor. Didn’t realize you were going to be home tonight.” He extended his hand to me. “You must be Dani.”

  “I am.” I shook his hand.

  “This is Evan, my roommate,” Connor said. He gestured past Evan and added, “And that’s Robin.” The guy still sitting on the couch offered a wave and I smiled back.

  Evan looked at me again, stroking his chin with his thumb and forefinger, his brow creased as if he was deep in thought. “So you’re Dani, then. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  I eyed Connor. “Have you been talking badly about me?”

  Connor pursed his lips and inclined his head slightly. “Define ‘badly’.”

  Putting a hand over his mouth, Evan widened his eyes in mock horror. “Oops, I wasn’t supposed to say anything, was I?”

  “Anything about what?” I tried not to laugh.

  “Oh, wait,” Evan said. “Maybe she wasn’t the one you told me about.”

  Connor rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay—”

  “I mean, she doesn’t look like the type to wear a strap-on—”

  “Connor Graham!” I smacked him playfully. “You told him about that?”

  Connor glared at both of us, then rolled his eyes again. He tugged at my arm, trying to lead me out of the living room. “All right, you, I don’t want him filling your head with dirty thoughts.”

  “No more than you already—”

  He clapped a hand over my mouth. “And that’s enough out of you.” Pulling me down the hall, he said, “Good night, Evan, Robin.”

  “Good night, you two,” Evan called after us, chuckling on his way back to the couch to rejoin Robin.

  I laughed against Connor’s hand as he half-dragged me down the hall. In the bedroom, he released me, and I feigned innocence as I said, “But I was having fun talking to him.”

  “Yes, I know you were.” He put his hands on my waist and kissed me. “Entirely too much fun.”

  “You just want to be the one filling my head with dirty thoughts, don’t you?”