Only two cars sat in the haphazard parking area near the stable, and one was Dothan’s. Not surprising, considering it was already two o’clock on Saturday afternoon. Most riders today had come and gone already. But I forgave myself the late start, based on the night I’d had.
I had finally fallen into a fitful doze when the first gray shades of dawn lightened the living room. I awoke two hours later to Nathaniel’s clattering downstairs, a dull throb between my temples echoing the pain in my knee. And then I’d actually driven to the store, purchased the groceries needed for zucchini bread, and spent two hours baking for Dothan. I needed help.
I left my tack in the car, instead grabbing the plastic shopping bag packed with the bread and some bottled water. No one was around, and the horses had been turned out to graze. Crap. That meant I’d have to catch Beau, and he could be very sneaky if he thought he could get out of work.
I heard thumping directly above me, echoing through the otherwise deserted stable. Dothan was obviously working up in the hayloft. Threading my arm through the bag handles, I climbed the rungs of the ladder to the loft. My injured knee sent up a helpful warning flair of pain each time I straightened my leg.
The ladder ended abruptly at a square opening in the hayloft floor, and I peered carefully over the edge. Dothan stood with his back to me, his blond hair tied in a black leather thong. I admired the view for a moment, wrinkling my nose as dust from the hay swirled around in the thin shafts of sunlight filtering through the roof. Then my mind suddenly processed what Dothan was doing and my mouth dropped open.
He was stacking bales of hay—that in and of itself was nothing noteworthy. The task was just one more duty expected of the new stable hand. But he was lifting them as though they weighed nothing, setting them into place above his head like they were dishes being returned to a cabinet.
I silently watched him finish that row, my thoughts spinning. The two evil-looking hay hooks most people had to use to grasp the heavy bales sat in the corner. But Dothan ignored them, starting on the next layer by picking up one bale in each hand and tossing them to the top of the pile.
The white barn cat we called Ghost noticed me lingering and decided I might be willing to give her some attention. She rose from her nest of straw, arched her back in a drawn-out stretch, and ambled over to me with a demanding meow.
Dothan turned at the sound and stopped in his tracks, dropping two bales with a heavy thud. “Hey, Jamie,” he said, not quite meeting my eyes. He wiped the palms of his work gloves against his dusty jeans.
“How…are you doing that?” I asked.
I could tell from his expression he knew exactly what I meant. His jaw worked for a moment before he answered simply, “I’m used to it. Hauling hay every day is a better workout than any gym can offer.”
He looked plenty strong to me, but I still knew the ease with which he tossed the bales was not normal.
I climbed up to standing, setting my bag on the floor before walking over to double check the evidence. Yep, it was hay he was moving—and a hay bale was much heavier than a similarly-sized rectangle of straw. While straw was composed of hollow shafts used for lining the stalls, hay was for feeding and had a much higher moisture content. The bales he was lifting, larger ones secured in three places with twine, could weigh up to 130 pounds.
I slipped my fingers under the twine and tested it. Too heavy for someone to throw around like that. “Something’s not right,” I mumbled. Maybe I had fallen asleep and was dreaming. Or having some sort of waking hallucination associated with lack of REM.
“I’m sure I made it look easier than it is.”
I was sure I didn’t believe him. He wasn’t showing the slightest sign of exertion. “You’re lying,” I said.
He sighed, tugging off his thick gloves and stuffing them in the back pocket of his jeans. “Just drop it, Jamie. Please.”
“I will, only because I know you’re not going to explain. It’s complicated, right? Too complicated for me.” My throat grew tight as heavy tears pressed against the backs of my eyes.
“That’s right.”
I blinked in disbelief, sending the warm tears rolling down my cheeks. Swiping at them angrily, I stared hard at the hay-strewn planks of the loft floor.
He took a tentative step closer to me. “Please don’t cry, Jamie,” he pleaded. “I’m not worth it.”
I shook my head, afraid a sob might escape if I attempted speech. Drawing in shuddering breaths, I watched his hands curl into fists at his sides.
“Damn it. This is exactly what I meant last night. Being around me is only going to hurt you in the end,” he said, his voice rough with anger.
“No,” I said shakily, finding my voice. “This isn’t about you. I’m just exhausted. Last night after you left, I went outside to get my book from my car. Someone was lurking around the house and it freaked me out. I didn’t sleep at all.” The second part was accurate, anyway—but it was also true his callous words had upset me enough to start the tears flowing. However, there was no reason for him to think I cared that much about anything he said or did, despite what I thought had been a real connection last night.
“Someone was outside your house?” He started to reach for me, then dropped his arm. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Well, I hurt my knee running up the stairs.” I gently prodded the swollen flesh under my riding breeches.
“Did the person chase you?” he demanded.
“No. I mean, I could have imagined the whole thing. But I don’t think so.” I’d wandered around to the other side of the yard this morning before I went to the grocery store. Sure enough, some branches were broken in the tall line of hedges along the property line, in a ragged hole that suggested a body had slipped through the thick brush. I shivered at the memory.
This time he did take my hand, sending another—more pleasant—shiver up my arm. He led me over to a solitary bale of hay, snagging my plastic bag along the way. Sitting down beside me, he found a bottle of water in the bag and opened it for me.
“Do you think it was those guys from your school?” he asked once I’d taken a few healthy gulps.
“I doubt it. They wouldn’t spend their Friday night hanging around my house without actually achieving their goal of terrorizing me.” I almost wanted him to ask me again about their campaign of hate, just so I could refuse to answer him. I had secrets of my own, however pathetic they might be.
No such luck. He just leaned down to pet Ghost, who was threading herself between our legs.
Once again, I felt compelled to fill the void. He was still the same guy who had held my hand all night without expecting so much as a kiss, despite whatever he was hiding. “Now I’m wondering if it was someone trying to break in. Nathaniel does keep some valuable antiques in the house.”
“Oh?” Dothan cut his gaze to me quickly, studying my face with his clear brown eyes.
“Well, the store has a monitored alarm system, but he has a few books that are so old and valuable they need special storage conditions. You know, they can’t be exposed to any light or humidity. Really old books attract insects too, so they can’t just sit on a shelf in the store.”
“Hmmm,” he said thoughtfully, scratching the cat along the side of her mouth. “So he keeps them in the house? But who would know that?”
His interest struck me as slightly unusual. Then again, he was unusual. “No idea,” I said with a shrug. “Anyway, they’re in a safe.”
“Right,” he said. “So whoever it was probably wasn’t after you. But do you have access to the main house? I mean, if someone broke in from your apartment?”
Alarm bells rang in the back of my head. On the surface, it seemed like Dothan was concerned for my safety—but I sensed something more sinister behind his questions. Was Dothan a thief? That would explain his mysterious behavior and wads of cash. But it wouldn’t explain what he was doing working at a minimum wage job and living in a stable. Unless he was some sort of fugitive. Goos
ebumps pricked along my skin.
“I have access if I need it,” I replied carefully.
“Do you know the code to the safe?” He dug into the bag and pulled out the other water bottle. “It could be dangerous if you do. If someone is after the books.”
“If someone had me at gunpoint, it would probably be more dangerous if I didn’t know it,” I snapped, realizing a second too late I’d inadvertently answered his question. Damn my sleep-deprived brain. I stood up suddenly, and a wave of dizziness crashed over me. My swollen knee buckled, and the next thing I knew, I was in Dothan’s arms.
Chapter 11
I sat on his lap, his arms locked around my chest. The hard muscles of his thighs pressed against the tight fabric of my riding breeches. Breathe, I reminded myself. But the intimacy of our position made hot blood rush to my lower body, leaving my brain once again lacking oxygen. I squeezed my eyes shut as another wave of lightheadedness swept over me.
“Have you eaten anything today?” His breath stirred the air next to my ear.
I considered the question, biting my lip as tiny tremors rocked my nervous system. Had I eaten? Aside from dinners with Nathaniel, no one really monitored my diet. On school days I always grabbed something quick for breakfast and bought lunch in the cafeteria. But on the weekends, my days were less structured.
“I had a banana,” I remembered. I’d pulled one out of a bag after shopping and eaten it in the car on the way home.
“It’s after two o’clock in the afternoon,” he said sternly. “No wonder you’re fainting.”
“I made zucchini bread.” I tilted my head toward the bag on the floor. “I was planning on eating that. But I’ll need my arms.” The position we were in made it difficult not only to think, but to move.
He released the iron hold he had around my chest, sliding his hands into the curve of my waist. Lifting my hips, he shifted me back over to the spot next to him on the hay bale.
“I can’t believe you actually made it.” Bending down, he retrieved a loaf of bread, encased in shiny silver. The unfamiliar crinkle of tearing tinfoil sent Ghost skittering into a corner.
“Why not?” I asked, accepting the first slice. “You liked the carrot cake, and you said you wanted to try it.” Breaking off a piece, I popped it into my mouth. Thankfully it was delicious—moist and sweet, with a slight crunch to the crust. My stomach suddenly came to attention, demanding more.
He shrugged, making appreciative noises while he chewed. “I’m not used to people doing nice things for me, that’s all.” He took a swig of water. “It’s really good, Jamie. Thanks.”
His words sent a twinge of sadness through my heart. Silently I took two more slices and handed him another. At the rate we were going, we’d finish the whole thing in one sitting. I’d baked a second loaf, but I’d taken it downstairs and left it for Nathaniel. He’d been at work for hours by the time they’d come out of the oven.
“Maybe people would do nice things for you more often if you didn’t push them away,” I commented between bites. I watched him carefully out of the corner of my eye.
His jaw set into a hard line. “Touché.”
Apparently that was the only answer I was going to get. Not good enough.
“Before I…got dizzy…you said being around you would only hurt me in the end. Can you tell me why?”
“A lot of reasons.” He tipped his head toward me. “Complicated, remember?” he added, pointing at himself with a self-deprecating grin.
I chewed my lip to keep from laughing. “Just give me one. I think I deserve that, for the zucchini bread at least.”
He sighed. “I suppose you have a point. Okay, here’s one: I don’t know how long I’ll be around.”
Huh? That sounded morbid. Was he dying? I leaned back and scrutinized his appearance. Handsome, rugged, strong—a picture of health. A picture of health that should be splashed across a billboard in Times Square, wearing a lot less clothes. Muscles deep inside me clenched, and I looked away to hide the flush coloring my cheeks.
Maybe he was undergoing some experimental treatment that gave him superior strength and an electrical charge. While it seemed unlikely, I had no better ideas to account for the things I’d witnessed.
“Are you sick?” I asked, splitting the last thick piece of bread between us.
His lips curved into a grim smile. “No.”
“Moving? New job?” My mind flashed back to the day we performed surgery on Tom the cat. “Veterinarian school?”
He shook his head. Standing up, he reached for my free hand and pulled me up.
I could think of only one other somewhat disheartening option. “So, the plan is to ask me out on a date, pretend to befriend me, and then cut me loose?”
His expression turned dark. “Does that seem like the kind of person I am?” Dropping my hand, he gestured toward the ladder. “I need to get back to work.”
I guessed that was my cue to leave. But now I felt horrible, on top of exhausted. “No, it doesn’t,” I replied honestly. “But you’ve got to give me a little more to go on.”
He pulled his work gloves from the back pocket of his jeans and tugged them on. “I came here to do something. I don’t know what’s going to happen afterwards.” He walked away and grabbed a hay bale, using two hands and feigning effort.
I swallowed audibly. Do something? “Is this something…illegal?”
“Depends whose laws you’re following.” He turned his back on me and shoved the bale onto the top of the stack.
I’d headed to Sam’s directly from the barn, and thankfully she was home. After my encounter with Dothan, I’d stomped out to the pasture and finally tricked Beau into a halter with a bag of carrots that had half the other horses teeming around me. Then I’d put us both through a punishing course of difficult jumps, despite my aching knee. Dothan was nowhere to be seen when I returned to the barn to clean Beau up and secure him in his stall for the evening.
I lay diagonally across her bed, relating the strange events with Dothan this weekend. She listened intently as she deftly plaited her golden hair in a complicated French braid. I was ashamed at the stab of envy I felt watching her get ready to go bowling with her soccer team.
Finishing my monologue, I rolled onto my stomach and propped myself up on my elbows. “So?” I asked, absent-mindedly tracing one of the embroidered green leaves on the bedspread.
“Clearly he’s a vampire.” She finished her braid, holding on to the end as she dug through her drawer for an elastic tie.
“Then he’s a vampire who eats popcorn and zucchini bread,” I replied with a sigh.
“Alien?”
I actually considered that one. “That sounds closer. He does seem to be on some sort of mission. Do you really think it’s possible?”
She turned, fixing wide sapphire eyes on me. “That depends—do you feel you’ve been probed anywhere recently?”
I scowled at her, fully aware my cheeks were turning a fiery red. “Sam!”
“Of course I don’t think it’s possible,” she said, shaking her head. “I think your imagination is playing games with you. What you feel when you touch him is chemistry between you and an apparently smoking hot guy. And he lugs bales of hay around all day—of course it’s easy for him. You can’t compare what he can lift to what you can lift, because guys have greater upper body strength. It’s a fact, unfortunately.”
“But I’ve seen Mr. White struggle with those bales,” I pointed out, referring to the owner of Fox Run. “He’s a guy, and he’s used to hard work.”
“He’s also not a teenager.” She pushed her arms into a navy blue hoodie and stuffed her feet into tall Ugg boots.
“Yeah.” I could see she had to leave. “Okay, have fun tonight.” I rolled off the bed, wincing when my weight shifted to my swollen knee.
“You should come,” she said, forcing enthusiasm into her voice.
I understood her dilemma, and I had no intention of putting any more of my burden on her s
houlders. “Thanks, Sam. Really. But all I want to do is go to bed.” With all the Dothan talk, I hadn’t even gotten to the midnight stalker story. Another time.
“Have fun,” I called over my shoulder as I let myself out of her room. A fierce, overwhelming wave of exhaustion sank heavy claws into me with sudden force. I prayed my leaden legs would hold out long enough to get me up the stairs to my apartment and into bed.
Chapter 12
Sundays I worked from noon until five o’clock, so usually by Monday I was anxious to get to the barn after school. Nathaniel kept the store closed on Mondays—weekends we had to be open to accommodate shoppers’ schedules. But this Monday he spent his day off doing inventory, which was a daunting task with all the books we had shelved in the back. A combination of light rain and heavy guilt forced me to join him as soon as I’d grabbed a snack.
So as I hurried out of my last class on Tuesday, my thoughts were solely on riding. In retrospect, I should have noticed the unusual number of kids loitering in the hall, an air of cruel expectation surrounding them.
My head bent, I spun the dial of my locker and lifted the metal slide. A scream tore from my lips as the door swung open, and I stumbled backwards in horror.
A decaying rat hung from the shelf, its withered pink tail secured by a stack of my books.
The smell of rotting flesh rolled off the tiny corpse. I slapped my hand over my mouth to mask the retching noises. I could hear a few muffled snickers above the blood rushing in my ears.
Pull it together, I ordered myself silently. My initial shock was the only reaction they were going to get. I took a step forward and hid my face with the locker door, trying not to notice the vacant holes where dark beady eyes should have been. It was impossible to spend as much time as I did at a stable and not see rats; I just didn’t usually have dead ones hanging directly in my field of vision. Plus the barn cats didn’t leave a lot to look at when they were lucky enough to make a kill.
Clumps of students were breaking up—clearly the best part of the show was over. But I had to get the thing out, and I wasn’t going to give anyone the satisfaction of watching me do it. I’d come back. Closing the door with a calm click, I spun the dial to lock it before I realized the futility of this action. Obviously my combination was now public knowledge. Someone must have broken into the office files. Another thing I’d have to take care of this afternoon, I thought with an inward sigh.
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