"It's fine, I'm just weak. The physical therapist mentioned it. I don't know why I thought it would be different."
"Well, can we build it up?"
She glanced at him and saw a man more invested than he ought to be. He was talking about a lot more than just the work she was paying him to do with Encore. She pressed her lips together and shrugged.
"I don't know."
"I mean, we could make you an appointment with Dr. Fields and see if he could refer you while you're here."
"That's thoughtful, but it's fine." She tried to enjoy the fact that she was just sitting astride a horse but the realization that her body had betrayed her sucked all the joy out of it. Steering the gelding to the middle of the ring, she stopped in front of Finn. There was no sense in continuing.
"Do you think you could be weaker because you're so sore?" he asked next. She wanted to tell him it wasn't any of his business and that she'd make do. That's what she'd been doing for the last year. Making do, adjusting her lifestyle to fit her limitations, and deflecting pity.
"I don't know." Pressing her lips together, she put all her focus into swinging her right leg over the horse's back and dismounting. Normally, she'd jump clear, but not sure what the shock of impact would do, she held on, sliding her body down the side of the saddle. Her feet dangling in the air, she felt Finn's hand on her back, his palm warming her skin even through the layers of clothes she wore. Finally, she found herself on the ground, too close to him.
She managed just fine if she kept her distance, but when their bodies got within a couple feet of one another, she felt an inexplicable warmth, a magnetic draw that should have been a deflection based on how their relationship had progressed. But he'd been kind to try to help her ride. He was trying to be kind now.
"I have a spare room, you know. I mean, until you can get something worked out at Nan's."
"Oh…Noah called her. I guess one of her grandsons has a guest staying in that apartment." She shook her head, offering him a smile as she unbuckled her helmet. "I'll deal."
The truth was that the softness of Finn she was seeing was too much, too enticing. He was a man with a history, with a wife he hadn't moved on from. And she was a resilient woman, but she wasn't strong enough for that.
—FOURTEEN—
Finn rounded the corner of the barn and headed for the round pen. It was mid-morning and he hadn't gotten to Encore yet. He liked to get the gelding out of the way as early on as possible so he could try to compartmentalize Lily and all the feelings he had about her being here. This way he didn't have to sort them out, he could be distracted for the morning and then move on.
She was there, this morning. Leaning over the rail of the round pen watching Encore eat a flake of hay. Her back was to him so she didn't see him approaching, and she was talking on her cell phone. His step faltered for a moment, torn between the idea of giving her some privacy and knowing his day was already running behind and was about to get further so.
"Yes, I still want to ride." Lily's voice was tight and thick, like she was holding back tears. Finn pressed his lips together and went to the gate of the pen, making noise with the chain that held it shut to signal his presence. When she looked over, he lifted a hand in greeting and she swiped at her cheek. Maybe not holding back those tears after all.
"Mom, I can't have this conversation right now. Finn is here to work with Encore. I love you. Bye." Her words were so close together, he could tell she was offering no room for conversation as she swiftly disconnected the call. She shook her head as she directed her gaze to him, a crooked smile tipping her lips. "Twenty six years old and I still feel like I'm fourteen sometimes."
He chuckled, still paused at the gate. "Thirty this year and my own mama can make me feel the same way."
Lily's chest rose with a silent laugh, and she slid her phone into her pocket. "So what's on the agenda for today?"
"Well, I could use a hand."
"Oh? I'm not supposed to be watching, even, nevermind helping." She raised a brow in his direction but her tone was teasing.
"Yeah, yeah." If he was truthful, he'd never had a client for a problem horse so invested in his success, so clearly attached to the final outcome. Usually by the time horses like this landed on the Baylor ranch, there was an ultimatum to fix them or send them up the road. But Encore was different. She'd already stood by him for the year it had taken him to come right physically, he had a feeling she'd stand with him til the bitter end, no matter what the outcome. "I changed my mind. Wait here."
He jogged back into the barn, grabbing his colt training saddle from the tack room. They didn't make them like this anymore. The saddle was almost as old as he was, and well-constructed; designed to take a beating, just in case an unruly young horse decided to roll on it or try to scrape it off on the round pen rails. Holding it by the horn, he braced the skirt of it against his hip and grabbed a wool saddle pad from a standing rack. She'd gotten a lot of work done in the tack room, but she still had some parts to organize. He kept taking her away from her work and she'd be here forever.
When he emerged from the barn for the second time, Encore had finished cleaning up all the leftover hay. Lily leaned on her hip against the rail of the pen, but he could see the stiffness in her when she straightened.
"You're gonna ride my horse?" she asked, incredulously.
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, here." He laughed, swinging the saddle up onto the top rail, and then unknotted the lead rope that had been hanging from the gate for transporting horses back and forth between the pen and the barn. "We'll saddle him up and see how he does."
*
He was crazy, that was all there was to it. But she'd go along. This would be tangible progress. She'd watched him send the horse around the pen, but it was hard to discern if what was happening was good, bad or none of the above, since she had no experience with it and they weren't working on a specific behavior, but an entire mindset. Finn seemed to know exactly what a horse would think before it even thought it, and despite her long history with Encore, she was completely oblivious to the state of the horse's mind these days.
Encore came to the fence with his ears forward. Clearly, the cowboy had cemented a good relationship with the horse, and when she thought of the other offers to 'break' him she'd had, she was grateful for Emma's suggestion.
"Hey, buddy," Finn breathed quietly, rubbing a hand over the broad spot on his forehead. The horse whickered, and dropped his head. Movement on the other side of Finn caught Lily's eye, and suddenly, the gelding was chewing, a treat crunching between his flat molars.
"You've been bribing my horse!" she accused with a laugh.
Finn's hand dropped from where he'd been rubbing Encore and his shoulders lifted in a shrug. "You get more flies with honey."
"What would the old cowboys say?"
"They'd say it's stupid to get your boots wet crossing the river when the bridge is right there." He smiled, and stepped back, letting himself into the round pen with the horse. "Give me a minute to see where his brain is."
Finn sent Encore around the pen, the same as she'd seen him do before. It never got old, watching the way the horse responded to the slightest change in Finn's body; or maybe just watching the way the cowboy's lean figure shifted. There was something about the subtle, long muscle of a man who used his body every day for work, and she guessed, by the slice of skin she'd seen at his abdomen when he'd lifted the saddle onto the rail and his long sleeved tee lifted ever-so-slightly, Finn Baylor was no exception. She tightened her jaw and tried to focus on the horse. So far, she'd seen him only walk and jog, switching directions, changing the size of his circle. Today, Finn stepped in toward his hip and the horse shifted up a gear into a long legged, fluid lope.
Lily loved that lope. She watched for a minute, and then closed her eyes, savoring the sound of the rhythmic three-beat gait. She could almost remember how it felt under her, a rocking horse canter that was easy to ride and barely jostled her. It was the
ir favorite speed on the mossy flat terrain they normally trained on. Drawing a long breath in, she released it through her nose, feeling every nerve in her body that had been wound so tight since the accident begin to loosen.
When she opened her eyes again, they came into focus on Finn. As prickly as he was, she was grateful she'd walked into his life and chosen to stay. It had taken some time to smooth the rocky relations between the two of them, but they were at least cordial now.
Finn let the horse slow to a walk, and then closed down his body language so Encore would approach. The smile on the cowboy's face told her it was successful, though it looked the way all the other sessions had; like a dance between man and horse, only she didn't know the steps and couldn't hear the music.
"Next step. Come on in, Lily."
She bent and slid through the rails of the round pen. Encore's ears pricked forward, and she smiled.
"You don't look half bad, buddy," she told the horse, smoothing a hand over his neck. He was barely heated up. The work Finn had been doing with him was slowly, but surely, bringing his physical fitness back.
"I'm impressed," Finn said, his voice close at her ear. "With those scars, you'd guess he'd be sore, or short stride, or something. I gotta say, the team you had working on him did one hell of a job."
She nodded, swallowing, but didn't look back at him yet. How many times had she been told she was wasting her time? How grateful had she been when they'd taken him in at Renegade Racing and Emma had started with the hyperbaric chamber and water therapy? She'd made referrals to chiropractors and massage therapists that had helped make his body work again. It was a long road, and she'd been grateful for the team that had stood beside her; namely Emma, Noah, and Nate.
"They're the best. When I got to Renegade, your sister-in-law was as much of an advocate for him as I had been all along." It had been nice to be able to back off and let someone else be aggressive about the horse's treatment. It allowed Lily to focus on her own healing; physically, anyway.
"Emma can be a bulldog." She heard the smile in his face, and when she glanced up, a crooked grin graced his features. She hadn't seen him looking happy since she showed up; and she couldn't say it was this moment that had made him happy, but it was interesting to see the way his handsome face lit, the corners of his eyes crinkling with laugh lines; testament that at some point, Finn Baylor had been a happy man. "Anyway…you ready?"
He lifted the looped up lead rope he'd been holding and she took it from him, snapping the rope to Encore's halter.
"I'm assuming you know the rule; if anything happens, let go."
She laughed and shook her head. "In the woods, letting go means you have a long walk back to your trailer."
Or worse, a lost horse. A nightmare she'd never had to endure, but she'd had experience helping other riders search. Best case scenarios, gear got caught in brush somewhere near the edge of the trail and the horse waited until someone came to get them. Worst case was… worse than her accident.
"You're crazy," he laughed, shaking his head. "But for serious, let go if anything happens."
"Nothing will happen," she said with more confidence in her voice than she felt in her whole body. She petted Encore's nose while Finn went for the saddle.
Riding competitive distance, she'd long ago abandoned cumbersome western saddles, and she still couldn't put her finger on why anyone would want to lug one of the giant beasts around. Shrugging, she held Encore while, with one swing, Finn settled the saddle onto his back as though it was as light as air. Clearly, with his height and build, he wasn't as overwhelmed as she tended to get, trying to maneuver tack onto the tall horse's back.
Encore shifted his weight, his eyes widening as Finn worked around him. He expelled a long, loud breath and Lily took a step back, but rested her hand on his muzzle gently. "Easy, buddy."
Finn paused as he pulled the latigo through the saddle's girth, then checked with the horse, gauging his reaction. "You're alright, brother."
He looped the leather strap twice, then a third time, with the girth hanging loose around the horse's barrel, then slowly began to tighten it. Without warning, Encore dropped his head, jerking the rope out of Lily's hands, let out a grunt, and set off bucking like the best bronc stock she'd seen at the Denver rodeos. Suddenly, his hind hooves were so close to her face, she could feel a rift of moving air, and then she was being plowed over, pushed quickly to the edge of the round pen while she watched her horse root his head and lift his hind end over and over while he tore around the sand footing. Even from across the pen, she could see the whites of his eyes. Finn stood behind her while she slipped to safety between the rails of the pen, and then followed her. The girth got looser with every buck until, almost in slow motion, the saddle slipped off over his hind quarters and landed in a heap in the middle of the pen, dust billowing up around it.
Her heart racing, Lily braced with both hands against the rough rail of the fence, trying to calm her harsh breathing and her spinning head.
"Shit." She felt Finn's hand on her shoulder, his touch light, and suddenly, she found the ground again. Releasing a long, slow breath, she straightened a little, hoping he would keep that point of contact. She felt the warmth in his palm through the thin fabric of her long sleeved tee and it comforted her. "I'm so sorry. I didn't… I should have saddled him myself, first."
A hard lump three quarters of the way up her raw throat formed a dam for the words she wanted to say. In that moment, she had seen not only Encore bucking a blue streak across the pen, but been back inside that moment a year and a half ago, with Encore on his side in a ditch, the rigging on his saddle caught up in some alders. He was struggling, his long legs paddling the air and finding no purchase. There was blood everywhere, the air filled with screams she didn't know the origin of, and so much excruciating pain. It had been difficult to separate the accident from the present.
"Hey." Finn ducked under her arm and tried to catch her eyes and without thinking a second more about their business arrangement, Lily anchored herself with her arms around his neck and he eased her into his grip. It was only once his arms were around her that she let her rigid body relax, pressing her face against his shoulder. One of his hands drifted a lazy pace up and down the middle of her back, soothing. "You're alright."
But she wasn't. She had been protecting herself from this very thing, and while she'd thought she'd be able to completely avoid it by having a professional work with her horse, it was clear she couldn't go over, under, or around the trauma. She'd have to go straight through. At least she had company.
—FIFTEEN—
It wasn't until later, when he'd safely delivered Lily to Noah and gotten Encore put away and everything cleaned up that Finn's hands started shaking. It had been a close call. Too damn close. He'd let his guard down, gotten a little cocky, and Lily had nearly had to pay the price. He couldn't get the image of flying hooves just narrowly missing her face out of his head.
It was the time of night he'd normally sit in his recliner and watch the news until he dozed off, but he couldn't sit still. His whole body buzzed with the adrenaline dump and he paced a square between the kitchen, dining area and living room. Almost worse than the fear he felt was the memory of the way her body felt pressed against his, and the feelings that stirred up. Rubbing one hand on the back of his neck to try to calm the trembling, he made a ninety degree turn at his kitchen table and walked straight out the door to his pickup parked out front.
Daylight waned; the days had become shorter and the nights got crisp a lot quicker than they used to. He turned the key in the ignition and the old truck roared to life. There were still pieces of every single day that made him think of Sunny, including the F150. She'd helped him pick it off the lot the summer before they'd married. Dane had traded in his truck twice since, but Finn just kept fixing the problems and running his because if he let himself relax enough, he could still see Sunny in the passenger's seat on the way home from the dealership, the window down, h
er long blonde hair whipping in the wind, and her laughter carrying through the main street shops of Three Rivers. He couldn't relax enough for that right now, but the thought of her put a knot the size of a bowling ball right at the bottom of his gut. Go back in the house, he told himself.
"Screw it," he muttered, jamming the truck into drive and making a wide turn in the yard.
The drive to the cabin Noah had built wasn't long enough for him to change his mind, but then when his headlights swept over a form huddled on their steps, he couldn't have gone back anyways. His brother's truck was nowhere in sight; the newlyweds often hit Hinkley's for dinner or went to the next town over's little steakhouse. He pulled in, put the truck in park and opened the door, sliding out. Lily lifted her head and her hand in greeting. As he got closer, he saw she was wrapped in a big cable-knit sweater with Tucker curled up at her side.
"Hey. I came to make sure you were okay." He crossed the space between them and squeezed himself onto the steps on the other side of Tucker. The pup groaned in complaint, shifted to try and get comfortable again, and then finally vacated to a lower step.
Lily straightened, then leaned back, stretching. "That's nice, but I'm fine."
He watched her for a second, sensing words she hadn't said. That was probably how she'd convinced Noah and Emma to leave. He knew she was way more shaken up than she let on. "You seemed pretty shaken up earlier."
"Yeah, that's just…I don't know. I do that sometimes."
She'd completely shut down, frozen in place, and then, after he'd moved her out of the way of Encore's furious feet, she'd doubled over against the fence, drawing huge, gasping breaths like she'd run a marathon unprepared. It scared the shit out of him, so he'd done the only thing he could think to do when someone looked like they were shattering to pieces—hold her together. He couldn't imagine experiencing that kind of reaction once, never mind with enough frequency that you recognized it as something that happened 'sometimes.'
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