Out of his League: Prelude Series - Part One

by Meg Buchanan

  Cole got the other saddle and put it away too. Getting Hunter back into town would be the priority and then, he said, he’d deal with the float and Wildfire’s carcass. It could be morning before her dad got back to the house.

  The rest of the gear was light, so it didn’t take long to finish.

  He locked the door of the tack shed. “Take your clothes inside and I’ll bring the chilly bin.”

  Milly slung the hanger with her jacket and shirt over her shoulder.

  The long red mark on her neck had started to turn all colours. It must hurt. His ribs bloody hurt.

  He took the key out of the lock and picked up the bin. No light on in the house but when they got to the door the security one came on. Milly used her phone to key in the code to unlock the door.

  “I hope Mrs Bennett left something for us to eat in the fridge.” She turned the light on in the kitchen. The kitchen was big, and white and shiny, all the appliances stainless steel, the tops some sort of stone. This is what he’d have if he ever had money.

  After the night they’d had, it felt like a shock to see everything so clean and tidy.

  “Where do you want this?” Cole held up the chilly bin.

  “Leave it by the island. Mrs Bennet will unpack it in the morning.” Milly pulled out a breakfast bar stool and sat down. She leaned her elbows on the bench and rested her head on her hands.

  “I hope the vet is wrong. I hope Hunter is all right. Maybe he just took a knock and is only bruised.”

  “That would be good.” If Hunter had to be put down too, Jesus.

  He opened the fridge to find something to eat and lifted the lid on the heavy dish in there.

  “I could heat this up for you if you want. Stew on toast maybe?”

  “Sounds good. But are you calling Mrs Bennett’s flash casserole a stew?” Milly smiled tiredly. “There’s not much chance he’s just bruised, is there?”

  “Didn’t sound like it.” He found bread, a pot and a toaster. Started heating up the casserole and cooking the toast. He looked over at Milly and saw the tears starting again.

  “Hey.” He went around to the other side of the island. She slipped off the stool and came over to him. He put his arms around her and they stood like that a moment. “I’m really sorry I killed your horse.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.” Her voice muffled. “Dad said if you hadn’t controlled the ute, and got it stopped before we hit the fence, it could have been worse. We would have been hurt too.”

  “You did get hurt.” He gently traced the mark on the side of her neck.

  She put her hand over his.

  “How bad does it look?”

  “Terrible. You’ll be scarred for life.”

  “It can’t be that bad.” She started to move away to look in the mirror. She pressed her hands against his chest.

  He drew in a sharp breath. Fuck that hurt.

  “You’re hurt too?” she asked.

  He nodded. “A bit. I hit the steering wheel.”

  “Let me look.” She lifted his t shirt up. “Oh, Cole. You look like you’ve been branded.”

  “It’s not bad.” He pushed the t-shirt down, and neither of them moved away. Her hand sat gently on his chest and he reached out and touched the mark on her neck again.

  She bit the side of her lip and looked up at him. Her lips opened a little. He lowered his head and touched his lips against hers.

  She slid her hands up to his shoulders, came up on tip toes, and kissed him back.

  He broke away first. Shouldn’t have done that. She’s the boss’s daughter. He’d just killed one of her horses and maimed the other. And he needed this job.

  “I’ll get you that stew. You haven’t eaten anything since lunchtime.”

  Milly stood where he left her, looking puzzled. And even tear-stained and in clothes covered in blood, she looked flawless.

  She went back to her bar stool.

  While the casserole heated and the toast cooked, he got his phone out of his pocket and tried to ring his dad. No answer. He looked at the time. After one. Maybe his father was asleep and had left his phone in another room.

  He sent a text to say he wouldn’t be home until the morning.

  Even if his dad had noticed he wasn’t home he wouldn’t be sending out any search parties. He put his phone back in his pocket and went back to finding plates and knives and forks.

  They ate the food and then he made hot chocolate when Milly turned down coffee. By the time she’d finished the chocolate, she looked sleepy again.

  “You should go to bed. I’ll stay here and watch TV until your dad gets home.” He started to stick the dishes in the dishwasher.

  “Leave those. Mrs Bennett can clean them up.”

  “I don’t like mess.”

  “Okay.” Milly sounded too tired to argue. “When you’ve finished find me upstairs. I’ll show you where you can sleep if you get too tired.”

  He finished loading the dishes, wiped down the bench, put everything from the chilly bin into the fridge, then went upstairs.

  On the landing he could see one of the bedroom doors open and the light on. She lay on top of the bed still fully dressed.

  “Hey, Milly.”

  She turned, and she was upset.

  His fault.

  “Can you stay here with me?” she asked.

  That’s a good way to get yourself sacked. “I don’t think so. Where’s this guest room?”

  “Down the hall. Are you still going to watch TV?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll watch with you. I can’t sleep.” Milly got off the bed.

  He nodded. He could understand her not wanting to be alone. She loved those horses.

  They went back downstairs to the television room. The TV covered the whole wall, and a leather couch the size of a double bed had a couple of throws on it. They could watch TV in comfort here.

  Milly picked up the remote. “What do you want to watch?”

  “Got Netflix?” He sat on the couch.

  “Yeah.” The TV roared to life.

  Milly sat down and rested against him.

  He put his arm around her. He felt her fall asleep almost immediately.

  He should wake her up and tell her to get into bed properly, then go and find this guest bedroom.

  Instead he stretched out and curled up around her.

  7. Chapter Seven

  Cole woke next morning still curled around her. Someone had put a duvet over them. He could hear the sound of cups and plates on the granite benchtops in the kitchen.

  Somebody in the house was awake.

  He pushed the duvet back. The only person who could have put it over him and Milly was her father. Tom Gaisford must have got home and found them here and instead of waking them up he covered them with a duvet.

  No idea what that meant.

  He carefully moved off the couch without waking Milly. His right arm felt dead where she had been lying on it. The mark on her neck still there, but she looked peaceful.

  He found his boss in the kitchen making breakfast. He could smell the toast.

  “Cole, do you want coffee?”

  “Yeah.” He sat on the bar stool. “How’s Hunter?”

  “Bruised and cut.”

  “Nothing broken?”

  Milly’s father shook his head. “It doesn’t look like it.” He looked as tired as Milly had last night. “There’s a deep cut on his gaskin about this long.” His hands were about shoulder width apart. So, one hell of a cut. “It needed twenty-five stitches. And it looks like something is damaged in his left foreleg. Twisted the fetlock joint maybe. We’ll have to wait to see. There might be a tendon or ligament injury. Ivan thinks with care it will all mend, but he probably won’t be the horse he used to be.”

  “Milly will be disappointed.” It looked like her father wasn’t planning on commenting on the sleeping arrangements.

  He nodded and then got another mug out of the cupboard. “I guess Milly didn’
t want to be alone.” So, he wasn’t going to ignore the sleeping arrangements.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Relax, Cole. I could see what had happened. You both would have been so tired you would have fallen asleep the moment you sat down.”

  Milly’s father poured the coffee. “There is something I wanted to talk to you about, though. I think the accident has gone under everyone’s radar. No one knows about it except you, me, Milly, the vet and Farr. I’d like to keep it that way. If something like this got out, it wouldn’t do my business any good.”

  “Yeah.” He could see how the wheels coming off the float and a couple of horses badly injured wouldn’t look good for someone whose business was all about caring for other peoples’ animals.

  “Can I trust you to keep quiet?” asked his boss.

  “Yeah.” He had the coffee and toast. Milly still hadn’t appeared, and it was a school day, so he should probably try and turn up. “I’d better get home.”

  “Okay. And Cole, thanks for how you handled things yesterday. You did well.” His boss put the mugs and plates in the dishwasher.

  “Thanks,” said Cole. Bloody hell, he crashes the ute, kills a horse, gets caught sleeping with the man’s daughter, and gets thanked?

  He opened the back door of his house. The smell hit him in a wave. Alcohol, sour smoke, old food, stale bodies. The place stunk like a brewery.

  Fuck.

  “Dad, are you home?” No answer.

  The kitchen had every pot they own stacked on the bench and most of the plates. There were glasses and bottles everywhere. Must have been a party here, and it looked like it started early and ended late.

  Why couldn’t his father and his mates ever clean up after themselves?

  He started stacking up the plates ready to load the dishwasher. He’d get this cleaned up then have a shower and get to school. How hard is it to stick a few dishes in the dishwasher and put the bottles out in the recycling?

  His dad must have already left for work. Bloody typical he didn’t clean up first. He opened the dishwasher and the dishes from Saturday night were still there.

  Fuck.

  He unloaded the dishwasher and then cleared the bench of the used dishes. He put the dirty pots into the sink and ran water on them. He’d wash them when he got home from school. He’d need them to cook dinner anyway.

  He went into the lounge to get an empty box to stick the bottles in. They wouldn’t have bothered to take the boxes out to the recycling either. The curtains in the lounge were still closed and his dad sprawled out on the couch, snoring. Jesus.

  At least no half-naked woman under him this time. That was a plus.

  But he wasn’t at work, either.

  He went over to the couch and shook him. “Wake up.”

  “Leave me alone.” His dad tried to turn over.

  Cole grabbed him by the shoulder and rolled him off the couch. The bastard could wake up and give him a hand. He’d had enough of living like this. “Wake up.”

  His father rolled up to sitting. “What did you do that for?” he slurred, still drunk.

  “Why aren’t you at work?”

  “Couldn’t be bothered.”

  “How come?”

  He got a shrug. “Told the boss where to stick his job.” Again. And it looked like his dad planned on just staying there and going back to sleep.

  Cole stood back and hands on hips, watched the man who was meant to look after him roll onto his side, curl up into a ball and close his eyes. That meant no money to live on. How often had this happened over the years? Why couldn’t he have parents like the rest of the world?

  He shook him again. “Get up, asshole. If you’re going sleep all day, at least do it in your bedroom.”

  His father rolled onto his knees and then stood up shakily.

  “Don’t be mad, Coley.” He looked pathetic.

  Cole watched him limp to his room. He could get angrier with him, could shout at him, but it never made any difference. It always ended like this.

  He puffed out an explosive breath, rubbed his hair with his hand, then went into his father’s bedroom, pulled the bedcovers over him and shut the door. He couldn’t be bothered with school. He’d clean up, it’d take a couple of hours, then sleep too.

  Later maybe go and see how Milly was. It looked like she liked him as much as he liked her. Tom Gaisford seemed to as well. Something to hold onto. Life wasn’t completely shit.

  Late in the afternoon, he went back to the Gaisford’s. There might be something he could do to help.

  Milly answered the door. “Cole!” She still seemed happy to see him.

  “Just came to see if you were all right.” She looked all right. She looked about as good as any girl he’d ever seen, and in jeans, sneakers and another small camisole thing.

  She shrugged. “Did you go to school today?”

  “No. By the time I got home and cleaned up it didn’t seem worth the bother. I’m really sorry about your horses.”

  “I know.” She sighed again. “It’s all terrible. I keep wondering what we could have done differently, but I can’t think of anything.” She bit her lip.

  “Me neither. How’s Hunter?”

  “Poor Hunter. Dad says his legs will heal but he’ll probably never jump again.”

  “What are you going to do about the riding then?”

  “I don’t know. I miss Wildfire so much already, and poor Hunter. I can’t just replace them. He wants me to go stay with my grandparents. He thinks without the horses here I won’t have enough to do, and a change of scenery will be good for me.”

  “When are you going?”

  “When Dad gets back, in half an hour.”

  “For how long?”

  “A few weeks. We were going to stay with them for the September holidays anyway. I’m just going a bit early. Soon Daddy will say something about those horses we saw on Saturday, but I don’t want to think about it yet.” She looked up at him. So pretty. Soft kissable lips, amber eyes, long hair down to her back. Classy, even in jeans.

  She took his hand. “Come inside. Keep me company.”

  He felt draw back, his ribs were still bloody sore. She hadn’t hurt him, but he didn’t think he could stand anyone bumping into him accidentally.

  She let go. “Sorry, I forgot. Have you been to a doctor yet?”

  “No.” He followed her inside. Who had money to waste on doctors for sore ribs? “What about you?”

  She nodded and turned, standing close and facing him. “Daddy made me. The doctor said I’m only bruised, and I’ll come right in a few days.”

  “That’s good.” He touched the mark on the side of her neck with his fingers. Then paused. She smiled up at him and tentatively touched his cheek, then his lips. He took the hand and then moved his lips to the mark on her neck. She tasted warm and sweet. He shifted his lips to hers and the warmth and taste of her moved through him. Their hands rested very gently against his chest, the kiss all warmth and sweetness and light.

  Milly pulled away a fraction.

  It took him a moment to adjust to the loss of her.

  She smiled up at him again. “That was nice,” she said. “But it hurts. Doesn’t it?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. Everything hurts.”

  “And Dad will be here in a moment.” Milly sighed. “I’ll see you after the holidays?”

  He nodded. Anyway, he had to go home, get dinner cooked, and try to get some food into his father. By now he should be sober. There might be chance of him looking for work tomorrow. Until then, they’d be living on what Milly’s dad gave him.

  8. Chapter Eight

  The horse truck pulled up in the driveway, then backed up to the gateway that led to the yard. Cole watched Tom Gaisford get out of the driver’s side and go around to the back.

  He put the bucket in the stall and then went over to the gate to help.

  “Cole, unlatch that side and help me lower the back.” Milly’s father reached up and undid the bolt o
n his side. The hydraulics on the back of the horse truck slowly lowered it until it became a ramp.

  Milly had been away for three days now. He hadn’t heard from her, but then they hadn’t got around to giving each other their numbers.

  He could see the back end of Hunter and the huge raised area on his gaskin where the cut had been stitched. The bandage on his foreleg glowed white in the dim light.

  “Should I lead him out?” Cole asked.

  Milly’s father nodded. “Take it slowly. We sedated him for the trip and he might still be groggy. We don’t want him stumbling and making anything worse.”

  Cole climbed up and went to the horse. Hunter seemed to recognise him and whickered softly when he moved to the head end. He knew about the cut and the sprained foreleg, but he wasn’t prepared for how swollen Hunter’s face would be. He must really have been thrown around in the float when they crashed.

  “You get hurt, boy?” Cole gently stroked above the horse’s eyes. It looked like the only part of the horse he could safely touch. Hunter turned his head stiffly and nuzzled Cole’s shoulder. Well, the horse recognised him. Hunter might even trust him enough to lead him out.

  Cole untied the halter rope and opened the side gate so the horse wouldn’t have to back up. Didn’t want him bumping into anything accidentally. At least in a horse truck this big there was plenty of room for one horse to manoeuvre.

  Hunter moved slowly and awkwardly as he followed Cole to the back of the truck and down the ramp.

  In the bright sunlight Hunter looked a mess. Cole gently touched the uninjured spot on Hunter’s forehead again. Something oozed out of the cut and matted his coat. He did this to this horse.

  “Is the box ready?” Milly’s father stood back and hands on hips studied Hunter.

  Cole nodded. Hunter nuzzled at him again, like he forgave him.

  His boss shook his head. “I’m still not sure this is the right decision. Even if the physical damage heals, we don’t know if he’ll want to jump again.”

  “He didn’t get hurt jumping.” Cole didn’t disagree with the boss very often but there was no way he could stand back and let anyone decide to put Hunter down now he’d got this far.