Then we just sat on the swing, staring out at the moon, not saying anything more, and hell, it felt…good. Like maybe I had a confidant now.
I glanced down at the phone at the time. Christ, we had been out here an hour already. “Guess we should head back to bed before the sun comes up.”
“Shit, you’re right.” Julian stood up and stretched, taking all the warmth with him. “Hey, thanks for looking out for me. I’m sorry I ruined your sleep.”
“I’m not sorry,” I replied, and there was another long moment of staring.
Julian stepped backward toward the door, then turned. “Well, good night.”
After he walked inside, I stayed a bit longer, trying to make rhyme or reason of my confusing thoughts about Julian. As well as my attraction.
11
Julian
It was Tuesday after lunch, and I was about to walk back to the silo, where I’d begun to sketch out a floor plan, when the activity over at the paddock caught my attention. Kerry was near the fence, watching Ainsley, who was standing at her horse’s flank with a woman I’d never seen before. My feet naturally pulled me toward them to figure out what was up, even though it was none of my business.
Except last night, I’d overheard Sienna telling Kerry about a new rescue horse that was dropped off with George, and I’d admit I was curious about him, so maybe I could ask Kerry. Not that I was any more comfortable around these animals, but watching them from behind a fence created just the distance I needed. And rescues in particular piqued my interest. What was their story?
Kerry’s elbows were resting on the top tier of the wooden slats, and he made quite the picture. Those jeans hugged his ass just right, the muscle shirt showed off his sun-kissed biceps, and the damp tendrils of his tawny hair beneath the cowboy hat made me want to reach out and touch them, to see if they were soft or wiry. I wished I could shake my attraction to Kerry, but it seemed to only get stronger with each passing day.
It didn’t help sleeping in the room next to him with only the bathroom doors between us. Every time I heard the toilet flush or shower turn on, I held my breath, wishing and not wishing at the same time that my wildest fantasies might come to fruition. It would be a disaster if they actually did, which was why I needed to keep showing restraint.
I could feel Hamlet on my heels as I walked the length of the fence toward Kerry, who seemed too engrossed in Ainsley to notice.
Neither one of us had mentioned the time we’d shared on the porch swing the other night. I had woken in a cold sweat and couldn’t easily shake the troubling dream, so I’d headed out the door to walk the property, careful not to wander too far in one direction and get lost, which would’ve sucked. But I supposed I would’ve either ended up on the road or on the Carmichaels’ property, which would’ve been embarrassing had it not been the dead of night. Normally, I was pretty good with directions, but I’d been too shaken to think straight, and it was getting to the point where I was considering an extra check-in with my social worker from the VA about it. She thought the farm would be good for me, that it would help me relax enough to finally feel settled. I wasn’t sure about all that, but the change of pace had been good, though it’d done nothing to dissuade the dreams.
Speaking of dreams, having Kerry waiting for me on the porch when I returned was pretty surreal. And then to admit he’d heard me in the throes of terror made embarrassment flush my cheeks, as well as guilt that I’d probably woken him up a time or two without even realizing it. But we’d become friendly during our milking mornings in the barn—who’d have guessed I’d ever use that phrase—and something reassured me he’d keep my confession safe.
Besides, the stuff he’d shared about his coming out was eye-opening.
Had Sienna caught Kerry watching gay porn on his computer?
Damn, that must’ve been so painful for both of them. Mom had always wondered if Sienna ever had any sort of inkling about Kerry, since they’d known each other most of their lives. And maybe both of them had ignored it, hoping it would eventually be resolved.
Fuck, what an ordeal, and the agony in Kerry’s eyes was palpable.
Kerry’s eyes… They were a hazel color bordering on gold, and I’d only discovered it because of the marathon staring contest between us that night. Damn, the man was so handsome and sexy, and feeling the weight of his thigh resting beside mine was…making me crazy reliving it every other minute. Thing was, had he been uncomfortable, he would’ve moved away, right? So I could only guess he was fighting the same attraction and had no clue what to do about it either.
And that same driving force of wanting to be in his presence was what had compelled me to show up in the barn at the crack of dawn the last two mornings.
I had slept in after the nightmare, which had felt good. And when I finally made it to the barn, Sienna was already there, so I helped her with the goats instead. But that similar tension seemed to tether me and Kerry together even across the stalls, and I tried to avoid his gaze, or I might’ve given myself away. Kerry must’ve had the same thought because he fled the barn as soon as his chore was finished, but not before throwing a shy, disarming smile in my direction. It was hard to keep my lips in a neat, straight line even though my stomach felt like it was in a free fall. Like I had some ridiculous junior-high crush on a strong, silent cowboy who seemed more like a figment of my imagination.
As I approached the paddock, Kerry briefly glanced my way before turning his attention back to Ainsley and her horse. “Hey there.”
“Hi,” I replied, then focused on Ainsley, who was using a round brush on Piper’s flank. I’d come to learn that they used three types of brushes to groom their horses, but I hadn’t paid close enough attention to know the difference.
Sienna had explained to me on one of my visits to the stables that grooming was a necessary task—it cleaned their coats, released natural oils, and helped with blood circulation. And, of course, helped a person bond with their horse. Especially a rescue horse. Which must’ve been why Ainsley seemed to spend so much time watching or helping George with the chore. But I’d only been here a few weeks, so what did I know?
“Is that woman a horse trainer?” I asked, watching the lady with the blonde ponytail and riding boots direct Ainsley to switch brushes, then motioning for her to stand in front of Piper and pay special attention to the horse’s face. For her part, Piper seemed to be enjoying the attention, but I didn’t really have a read on their emotions, which was part of the reason why they were so mysterious and intimidating. But she certainly wasn’t trying to get away.
“No, um…” Kerry cleared his throat. “Dr. Barnes is an equine therapist.”
“Equine what?” I asked in confusion, and he cracked a smile.
“Right? Didn’t even know they existed—or maybe just never paid much attention—but it makes sense now that I know a bit more about what she does with Ainsley.”
“Daddy!” Ainsley called out when she spotted us, a huge grin on her face. “I’m gonna saddle her today.”
“Yeah?” he asked, and the equine therapist gave him the thumbs-up.
What in the world?
“I’ll be right here watching you.”
The way his eyes crinkled at the corners made my heart squeeze. Damn, he loved her. Even hired a horse therapist for her.
Kerry glanced at me. “Probably seems strange to you.”
I shrugged. “Not really. I’ve only been to talk therapy at the VA, but I suppose there are lots of different kinds.”
He nodded. “Thing is, after going into remission, Ainsley developed anxiety. She’d been in enough hospitals to last a lifetime, and had been poked and prodded more than any little girl should ever endure.” I winced. Fuck, I hadn’t thought about it in quite that way. “And we wondered if the trauma of all of that was going to cause her to have reservations about doctors in general and maybe even nightmares…sort of like yours.”
I inhaled sharply as my gaze swung toward Ainsley again. She had sur
vived a battle all her own. Damn.
The therapist was brandishing a shiny tan saddle, and Ainsley was trying to wait patiently even as she squirmed beside her. “And?”
“No nightmares. At least not yet,” he replied, and I breathed out a sigh of relief for her. No way I’d wish that on anyone, especially a nine-year-old. “But she started freaking out every time we were out of her sight. As if somehow she would lose us and be left all alone if she didn’t keep track of where we were. And if you added more people in the mix, it was even worse.”
“Poor Ainsley,” I said, watching her help Dr. Barnes gently place the saddle up toward Piper’s neck, then slide it down into place on her back, all the while speaking to her in what looked like a comforting voice, as if to make sure the horse was comfortable. I liked watching them. I found it soothing.
And now I remembered Mom having a talk with me as a kid as we sat on the plane, heading on a trip down here. She warned me to approach the horses cautiously, or they were liable to startle and accidently kick you with their hooves, which were hard, hurt like heck, and could cause damage. “Happened to me,” she’d said, “and I had a bruise for weeks.” And now I wondered if that was where my trepidation about horses originated. That, along with seeing something similar in a couple of Western movies—one that resulted in death—had sealed the deal.
But hell, if Ainsley could conquer her fears, so could I.
“You must have a winning personality, though, because normally Ainsley would’ve never approached a stranger, not without major coddling. Something about uncertain situations feeding into her reservations. Dr. Barnes always says that fears are irrational, so sometimes there’s no rhyme or reason to them,” Kerry explained, and now I remembered how watchful she was on the porch when I’d first arrived. “Anyway, we had to prep her for weeks that you were coming and would be living here with us.”
“Holy shit.” My hand covered my mouth. And here I’d thought Ainsley was just being shy when really, she was being vigilant. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”
“No, it’s okay. I think she…needed to face somethin’ a bit out of her comfort zone so she could grow.” He looked at me then, and our gazes held. “Maybe you did too?”
“It’s working out so far.” I cracked a smile. “For both of us?”
“I hope so.” His gaze swung back to his daughter. “Anyway, when her grades started dropping and she was refusing to see her friends as frequently, we asked for help.”
“And you got Dr. Barnes?” I asked, still marveling at all he’d just shared.
He snickered. “Not right away. At first we tried talk therapy. But then we were told other forms of therapy seemed to work wonders for certain issues.”
“Really?” Who knew? But it made sense, especially with kids. Who wanted to sit in a boring room and talk to someone? I had a hard enough time as an adult. Suddenly I was curious about it all. “What is equine therapy supposed to do exactly?”
“I guess when you have anxiety, it helps to form a bond with someone—or in this case, something—to build trust. But slowly, through directed tasks or something like that. Not sure I totally understand.” He motioned to his daughter, who was now helping take the saddle off. Seemed like such a simple task, but it obviously had a point to it. “Dr. Barnes believes in using rescues because in many cases the horse has trouble with trust too.”
I glanced back at them and noticed how Ainsley was softly cooing to Piper as she offered her an apple slice, and then kissed her soundly on the nose.
“Ainsley loved the mares from the ranch as much as I loved the horses I’d been raised around, before Rocket,” Kerry said, and I remembered Sienna mentioning that horses could live up to thirty years unless they got an injury or a disease. “But for therapy, Dr. Barnes believes in using horses her clients aren’t familiar with. That way both have to rely on new instincts.”
I found that fascinating. “Makes sense the way you explain it.”
“We’ll see.” He turned his attention back to his daughter, and I didn’t want to intrude any more than I already had or overstay my welcome. So I turned in the direction of the silo and was about to tell him I’d catch him later when George walked into my view, leading a large—almost grand—horse that immediately snagged my attention. His shiny coat was a chestnut-red color, his ears twitched as if he was hyperaware of his surroundings, and his eyes seemed kind, if a bit wary.
Since when did I ever care what a horse looked like, let alone how they were responding to their environment? But I felt captivated, unable to draw my gaze away, like I was hypnotized or something. As they got nearer, it dawned on me that he must be the new rescue I’d heard about.
12
Kerry
I’d been standing near the paddock, catching the tail end of Ainsley’s session with Dr. Barnes, who had just returned from a week-long competition; not only was she a therapist, but also a top equestrian in the state. She had slowed down in recent years and only competed occasionally now, but in her heyday, she was renowned. I’d heard her name thrown around here and there since I was a kid, and it was probably one of the reasons my parents were impressed the first time they’d met her and had immediately given their blessing on her work with Ainsley. Not that I needed their blessing when it came to helping my daughter, but somehow it eased the burden when Dr. Barnes explained to them why Ainsley might’ve developed some of her issues. Otherwise, they might’ve protested the very idea of therapy. Just like they did other ideas they didn’t quite understand, like my sexuality.
They had started sessions this past spring, and we’d detected some differences in Ainsley since then. She had certainly taken to Julian, a virtual stranger, and that seemed new, so I was being cautiously optimistic. I’d noticed the same at the ranch when random neighbors would stop by before or after dinners. She used to stick closer to us, but last weekend she readily went outside to play with her cousins and the neighbors’ kids, as if she’d forgotten she was supposed to be on her guard. We’d take any little victories we could get, and Dr. Barnes was fantastic with her. We couldn’t have asked for a more compassionate therapist, which was the exact thing we all needed. She didn’t even bat an eyelash at our family history or living arrangement, and that was a relief all its own.
I was so intent on watching Ainsley groom her horse—because no doubt she’d drill me about it later—that I didn’t hear Julian walk up to the paddock after his lunch. But I did recognize his warmth and the pressure of his shoulder as he settled beside me near the gate. We were both dusty and sweaty from the morning’s work, but there was this other underlying scent to him that I wished I could take a deeper whiff of. Sort of woodsy with a hint of spice like the aftershave he’d left on the bathroom counter the other morning that I couldn’t help lifting to my nose. Way to dig myself in deeper, because he only intrigued me more.
Julian’s attention was turned toward the grassy area, where George was leading our new rescue. The horse was slightly skittish, which was understandable, but he followed instructions well and seemed to acquiesce as soon as a voice was raised, which made me question if the tone triggered something from his past. A couple of the rescues we’d taken in had a rough history, and some had just gotten past their prime and needed someplace to live out the remainder of their lives. We had to be selective, though, or we’d bite off more than we could chew; we had plenty of work around here between the three of us and the seasonal hires we employed in the spring and fall for birthing season and the harvest.
Julian was staring so intently at the horse, I wondered what it was about him that had captured so much of his attention. Julian didn’t seem wary like he’d been the handful of times in the stables with the other horses, or like that time when he’d startled and I had to steady him. This time he seemed openly curious, absorbed, almost bewitched.
“You got a thing for those ginger boys, huh?” I smirked. It felt damned good to be able to joke about something regarding our sexuality. Fuck, who knew
a stupid joke could be so freeing?
His eyebrows drew together before he got my meaning. Then he burst out laughing.
“Maybe I do.” He eyed me up and down, and holy crap, the flirtatious tone coming from such a gorgeous guy lit a fire in my belly. I hadn’t even considered the fact that my hair was similar in color to the horse’s mane, though mine was lighter, more of a tawny hue. And my scruff grew in even darker in the winter months.
“Is that your new rescue?” Julian asked, his voice taking on a strange lilt.
“Yep, his name is Mercy.” I studied his reaction. Mercy was handsome, with that auburn coat, but I’d never seen Julian quite so captivated by an animal on the farm before, let alone a horse, which he seemed guarded about from the start. “Have Mercy is technically his name. He was a race horse who had an accident that cost him his livelihood.”
“You’re kidding.” His eyes scanned the length of the horse, but the scars from the accident had long since healed. His mane and coat were back to being shiny, which no doubt told the story of his recovery. It was why grooming and gentle care were imperative.
“His locomotor system was affected, so he developed an abnormal gait, likely from all the pain he’d endured. His jockey was injured as well,” I explained, and Julian winced, compassion shining in his eyes. “Thankfully, Mercy was nursed back to health—his rider too, I heard. So now that his racing days are over, he’s ready to live a simpler life on a farm.”
“And they called you to take him in?” Again, there was a modicum of awe in his voice.
“Told you we’ve become a sort of sanctuary around here.” I shrugged. “And we certainly didn’t want to see him put down.”
“Actually, it was Kerry who convinced them to send Mercy here,” Sienna said from over my shoulder as she joined us against the fence. She was carrying feed in a bucket for the chickens and had stopped to check on Ainsley as well. We were like two sides of the same coin when it came to our daughter. “He’s the biggest softie around here.”
Have Mercy Page 9
