The smile she turned on him proved it was the right decision.
"You're almost there. But I think soon, you'll probably be able to get on him. And we'll teach him to sidle up to the fence in the meantime, that might help."
"You know, you're awfully patient for someone who 'doesn't give riding lessons'." Lily grinned, getting her feet positioned in the stirrups.
"I might make exceptions based on cuteness." He helped her with the stirrup on his side, sliding his hand up just above her knee to give her thigh a squeeze.
"Then I'm really lucky I'm cute."
"Sure." He chuckled, putting his hand on Tank's rump. "Alright, show me what you got."
*
Lily squeezed her legs and Tank moved off, easy as pie. She couldn't deny the horse was a good choice. She was a lot closer to being able to mount up alone than she had at any point prior to this. And the horse's smooth gait was an endurance rider's dream. He'd take a bit of fitting up to reach the point where he could pack in some of the longer distances, but she was a firm believer, and Encore was living proof, that any horse could do endurance.
The night before, she'd felt overwhelmed by the gift, believing it to be a sign of something else. If she was truthful, even if she could ride Encore again, she couldn't be sure if he would stand up to distance work, and here she'd been given a young, fit horse that might fit the bill. It felt wonderful to have options again. And she had Finn to thank for that.
He leaned against the fence rail, watching her as she put the gelding through his paces. When she passed him, he smiled a smile that made her heart swell. She'd said words last night that slipped out before she even realized they were coming, and afterwards, when he'd held her until his breathing evened out and he'd drifted off to sleep, she'd wondered if she hadn't said them just because she'd been caught up in the moment. And she'd definitely considered the fact that the feeling wasn't mutual. He'd kissed her and brushed the hair off her face and then just fallen asleep.
But this morning, he was the same Finn he'd been before she'd made her stupid confession, and so she could wait for any wild admissions of love. She could tell—in his touch, in his eyes, in his actions—this horse, for one. She sat back and pressed her legs lightly to the gelding's side and he shifted up into an easy rocking horse lope that barely moved her out of the saddle. Happy tears welled up in her eyes as laughter bubbled up out of her. She did three circles around Finn before she touched the reins and shifted her feet forward a tiny bit and Tank geared down to a walk.
Finn's chuckle in response warmed her insides, and she couldn't stop the huge smile that covered her face when she reined in beside him.
"You like to go fast, don't you?" he asked.
"Oh, don't act like you don't," she said, bending forward to pat the gelding's neck. "You're a man. 'Fast' is like, the genetically programmed speed."
His lips quirked as he watched her, his dark eyes intense.
"So are you happy, Lily?"
She drew a deep breath in, filling her lungs, and then turned to smile at him, nodding. "Yeah. Yeah, I really am. You know, I thought at first there wasn't anything that would make me happy the way riding Encore would. I mean…that was so perfect. We would get twenty miles into a fifty miler and I'd be in the zone. I wouldn't know where he ended and I began, and all I would have to do is think something, and he'd just know."
Her chest filled with so much emotion she wasn't sure what to do with it, so she kept talking.
"And then we had our accident and all I could think was I would never feel that way again. That we'd never be able to accomplish that again, and it was the only good thing that could happen to me. And Tank isn't the same…not at all. But it could be something good. Different, but as good as what I had with Encore."
"Mmm." Finn hummed as he stroked Tank's neck, his eyes averted.
Something didn't feel quite right, like maybe he wanted to disagree with her, but wouldn't say it out loud. She pressed her lips together, watching him.
"I feel like I got a second chance for a happy life. And you gave that to me."
"You deserve it."
"So do you."
His jaw worked a minute and then he looked up.
"Do you suppose people really get a chance to have happiness again? Real, legitimate happiness? Not just an imitation?"
She narrowed her eyes a little, considering all of the new information she'd gathered about him in the last weeks, and though she could probably pinpoint where his questions came from. That didn't stop them from deflating her a little. If she thought about it long and hard, the lines between what she knew to be true and what he was asking could be blurred. After you achieved true happiness, who was to say anything else wasn't just a desperate attempt to right yourself?
Instead of following the darkening path of her thoughts, she straightened, holding his gaze for a beat longer than might have been comfortable. If he was talking about his own situation, she was halfway insulted he might think their life together was just an imitation of happiness.
"Yes." The word hung strong in the air between them for a moment while their eyes remained locked, hers pressing her belief, his searching. Finally, he shifted, breathed, and touched her knee, his entire countenance changing, lightening the mood.
"Okay."
—THIRTY-SIX—
"Damnit!"
Though he'd landed on his ass—hard, Finn jumped to his feet quickly, keeping his eyes on Encore, who was bucking a blue streak around the outside of the round pen. Noah stood at the edge of the round pen but hadn't said anything or moved; which was the general policy—unless a man was down and not getting back up, don't interfere. He bent quickly and collected his hat from the dust and, not for the first time since he'd arrived there, considered the possibility he might not be able to help Encore the way Lily wanted him to. This was the first time it bugged him this much, though.
He considered himself a sticky rider—it took a lot to unseat him—but the gelding had done it twice in one session, now. He'd landed on his feet the first time, and tried to keep hold of the horse, who had jammed him into the fence. He would, no doubt, have bruises on his body to go with the ones on his ego.
Worse than the bruises on his ego were the thoughts of how badly this would devastate Lily. She had Tank, and that had been better for her than he'd expected—by her own admission, she could be happy with that horse. But Encore was what she really wanted. Tank would always been a facsimile of happiness for her…not the real thing.
Cussing under his breath, he stepped out of the round pen, leaving the gelding to contend with his own demons. There was no calming him once he got going—that was a lesson Finn had learned yesterday when Encore had bucked him off. After a time, the horse stopped bucking, saddle still in place thanks to the breast collar, and let out two loud snorts, his head raised high, eyes wide.
Noah shook his head. "And Emma says there's nothing wrong with him physically?"
"And two vets and a chiropractor." Finn watched Encore finally settle, hands on his hips. That was a step in the right direction—at least he was comfortable with the saddle on, now. Just the rider was the problem. "Hell, I don't know. Maybe I'm just not good at this stuff anymore."
"Well I do think you'd be better off just training young colts for outside clients." Noah scuffed his boot on the sand under the fence rail. They'd had this conversation a hundred times in a dozen different ways. The money was better, and you were less likely to run into horses that were messed up by previous attempts, but Finn wasn't in it for the money. "But I don't think you've lost your touch. I think you've just met your match. Something maybe you can't fix."
His last words sunk a stone deep in the pit of Finn's stomach. This wasn't about just fixing the horse anymore. He was invested in this so deep now, this wasn't a 'client horse' anymore. Lily was counting on him to make this right. Because he'd made a promise and she'd fallen in love with that.
He'd known he was fighting an uphill battle fro
m the beginning, but now he was too close, too distracted. He was a man of his word, and he'd promised he'd see this through to the end. This wasn't the ending he figured she'd imagined when she'd rolled into the ranch's yard with Nate promising her a horse whisperer.
Clearing his throat, he shifted, then bent and stepped inside the pen to slip the bridle off Encore's head and send him around the ring. He didn't get out of work just because he managed to get rid of his rider, but Finn was too stiff from yesterday's unplanned dismount to climb on again.
"You good? I gotta get that roan filly ready. Owen's coming out today to see how she's doing."
"Yeah, I'm good." Finn wiped his hand across his mouth and then tried to focus on the horse, driving him forward, as Noah walked away. Encore had given himself a good workout bucking, but that didn't mean he was off the hook. Finn shifted his body weight, pushing the horse into an easy canter, blocked him and made him change direction, shifting and changing things just when the horse got comfortable. He finished when he could see a bit of sweat darkening the gelding's chest and behind his ears, thankful Lily wasn't here. This was just the sort of thing that made clients uncomfortable—pushing horses just a little farther than their comfort zone. It was usually in that wide field Finn ended up making the most progress. The problem here was he wasn't sure there was any more progress to be made.
Finally, satisfied the horse was in tune, he finished on a good note, letting him downshift a couple of gaits and join up with him in the middle of the pen. As always, the horse lowered his head and chewed, which made it that much more frustrating. This wasn't a respect issue. This was one hundred percent fear and trauma and nothing else, and sometimes there was just nothing that could be done about that. Sometimes, you had to just work around the fear you couldn't work through, but that wasn't an option for Lily.
He rubbed the swirl in the middle of the gelding's forehead, and then moved to remove his saddle, undoing the fittings and slipping it off his back. Immediately, the horse walked away and rolled, satisfied the work was over.
He let himself out of the round pen and headed for the barn. The tack room was in immaculate shape thanks to Lily. She'd infiltrated parts of his life he hadn't expected. He couldn't stand the thought of disappointing her, of hurting her the same way vets and trainers and her own damn family had when they'd wanted her to give up on the horse. He needed a plan. And somehow, he needed to get out of this with his fragile heart still intact.
Because, at the end of the day, the warm, funny girl with the artistic inclination that never failed to surprise him had worked her way onto the ranch, into his home, into his bed…she'd rooted herself right into his heart in a way that would be agonizing when she pulled away. And she would, when she realized what she had here wasn't true happiness. It wasn't her heart's desire. And there wasn't a damn thing he could do about that now except hope he survived.
Sliding his saddle onto the empty rack waiting for it, he frowned, hitching his fists against his hips again before cussing under his breath and heading for the house.
—THIRTY-SEVEN—
"How'd things go today?" Lily glanced up from her spot at the kitchen table where she'd been editing photos from the Anderson ranch.
"Alright."
The grim expression on Finn's face betrayed his non-committal tone. She could see it in the lines in his face and the weight in his shoulders. She kept trying to convince herself the fact that Finn was actually climbing aboard her horse was a good sign, but yesterday he'd come off, and judging by his dusty jeans, it had happened again today. He'd also retracted the open invitation to watch their sessions, so she'd been busying herself with things like the Anderson's sale stock.
"You wanna talk about it?"
"No," he said, taking a seat at the end of the table, next to her. Normally, his quiet presence soothed her, but today it was agitating. She shifted back from the table, rising to her feet. She dropped her hand to his shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze when she passed by him. Her fingers met rock-solid tension.
"You want a coffee?"
"What are you doing?"
His rough tone surprised her and Lily pulled her hand back like he'd burnt her.
"Offering you coffee," she replied flatly. "Clearly, you're not interested."
With his back still to her, he laid his hands flat on top of the table and rose.
"I can get my own damn coffee."
"Finn…" It was that same little loose thread she'd sensed the other day when they'd talked about happiness. That niggling little snag in his paper wrapper that she knew would eventually get caught and tear the whole thing open, exposing his insides. She'd tricked herself into thinking she had him figured out, but she'd always known there was more to Finn than what he showed on the surface.
"What, Lily?"
He turned, now, and she could see what looked like a mixture of defeat and fear in his eyes. Like a bad storm coming on, and there was nowhere for her to take cover.
"I just thought…"
"You just thought I'd come in at the end of the day and you'd rub my shoulders and I'd tell you all about it? Playing the good little house wife?"
His voice was angrier than she'd heard it, even in her first days on the ranch. And more pained, too. The word 'wife' reverberated in the silence between them, filled with anguish and longing and every other feeling she was sure had accompanied his widowerhood in the last five years. She blinked twice and took a step back, anger bubbling up in her. You're here for your horse, she reminded herself. It was something she'd forgotten about all together. And that had been a foolish move. At the end of the day, she didn't even know this man, despite the lovely moments of intimacy and honesty they'd shared. But it was heartbreaking to think he suspected she had some ulterior motive.
"Excuse me? I'm not—" She tipped her jaw down, unable to finish, because the mere thought of it being true felt sacrilegious. That damn rooster tea kettle mocked her from atop the stove. The man still wore his wedding ring. They'd been carrying on something that was considerably more serious than a flirtation at this point and he still dropped her hand when anyone saw them, hell-bent on keeping it a secret. He'd bought her a horse. But she'd never tricked herself into thinking he could ever see her stepping into Sunny's shoes.
"Not trying to replace my wife? Because that's sure as hell what it feels like."
Lily's heartbeat echoed through her whole body, her chest constricting. She stepped around Finn, closing her laptop and collecting her mouse and phone off the table top. She cradled them against her chest because that was the only way she figured she'd be able to keep her heart from exploding out of it.
"That is on you, Finn Baylor. You invited me to stay, told me to make myself comfortable. We've developed… something here. And it takes two people to do that. So I'm not going to let you get nasty with me because you've started feeling uncomfortable."
"I'm not uncomfortable."
"Like hell," she spit the words out, heading for her bedroom.
Fuming, she shut the door behind her, but realized her mistake too late. She'd shut herself into the cabin with him when all she wanted to do was leave. What am I doing here? She should have stayed in Denver, trusted the process, never gotten tangled up with this damaged man in the first place. Her eyes burning with unshed tears, she set her computer on the desk and flopped onto the bed. Stupid.
When she heard him crossing the floor, half of her hoped he'd come and knock on the door, come in and apologize, let her work some of the knots out of his shoulders, and settle the whole thing by making love. Instead, she heard the squeaky wooden screen door fall shut and the telltale sound of his truck engine.
She'd thought they were on the same wavelength. Based on his work with the horses, she had assumed all along he shared the idea that you didn't give up on something just because things weren't easy. Maybe he wasn't the man she'd thought he was all along.
—THIRTY-EIGHT—
"Don't ask," Lily warned as she dropped her
bags on Emma and Noah's couch. The line between her friend's eyebrows told her Noah had a lot he wanted to say—or at least ask. She flopped down beside her bags and Tucker immediately climbed into her lap, licking her face. The tears had dried but there were still salty marks on her cheeks. She loved everything about Noah and Emma and Tucker and even the little cabin, but she wasn't looking forward to more nights on the couch. Maybe I should call Nate.
After standing over her for a minute, with a concerned expression that was the equivalent of hand-wringing, Noah went to the kitchen. Frowning, Lily moved Tucker off her lap and followed.
"Seriously? You people drink coffee at all hours of the day."
When Noah turned away from the counter, he handed her a rock glass with an amber liquid in the bottom instead of a coffee mug.
"I won't say a thing, but if you want to say things, that's okay, too." Empathy softened Noah's voice. And it was nice to hear, after the rough coldness of Finn's. He poured himself a cup of coffee from the machine that always seemed to have a pot brewing, and gestured to the table. She'd spent almost as much time at kitchen tables with cups of coffee since she came to this ranch as she had with her camera actually in front of her face. It had been a wonderful way to get to know the family, Finn included, and she was grateful, but she would miss it.
"This is your family, Noah, I don't want to make any hard feelings between anyone."
"What did Finn do?"
She shot him a look and he shrugged innocently as he drew the coffee cup to his lips. "I've never been very good at following instruction."
"Where is your wife, anyway?"
"Don't answer a question with a question." Noah frowned and set his cup down. "She's at a rodeo team meeting at the school. She's going to coach this year."
"And Kerri made it?"
Secondhand Heart Page 21
