Small town romance boxed set

by Goodwin, Emily

  He looks over his shoulder for the woman he was with before. “My assistant. She does everything for me.”

  “Must be nice.”

  “She’s all right.” He shrugs. “Dinner tomorrow. And if you can handle it, drinks after.”

  “Deal.” I’m smiling again.

  With my hand still in his, we turn and walk out of the ER. We exchange numbers and pause in the parking lot.

  “Have a good night,” he says, and he lets his eyes do one last sweep over my body.

  “You too,” I tell him. He’s still holding my hand, and I don’t want him to let go. An ambulance speeds to the hospital, and I get a flash of my ride in one. I yank my hand back and shiver. “Good night, Aiden.”

  * * *

  “I’ve tried everyone else,” Dr. Wells says. I bite the inside of my cheek. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t an emergency. The clinic is full. I have literally nowhere for her to go.”

  I close my eyes and get out of bed that next morning. Lori is passed out next to me, and Chrissy is sprawled out at the foot of the bed. I cut myself off after one drink, finding it hard to keep the visions away with alcohol sloshing around in my mind.

  “I don’t know,” I say as I pad out into the hall, softly closing the door behind me. “I don’t know if I’m…if I’m ready.”

  “I know, honey,” Dr. Wells says, and the empathy in her voice breaks me. She’s been our vet for years. An older woman who’s seen it all, Dr. Wells sometimes feels like my grandmother instead of my vet. “And I also know your mother wouldn’t want you to lock yourself away in that house. She wouldn’t want you to close your heart or your barn.”

  I take a minute, tears filling my eyes. “You’re right.” I can only whisper, too close to crying. “I’ll take her.”

  “Thank you. I’ll have someone drop her off later this morning.” I can hear the smile on Dr. Wells’ face. “I’m proud of you, honey. And your mom was too. She still is.”

  And now I’m a blubbering idiot. I sob a goodbye and hang up. I go down the stairs; they empty into the living room. I cross the room and enter into the kitchen, looking out the window above the sink. The sight of the barn calms me. I stare at it for a few beats, then turn and make a cup of coffee.

  A pile of bills sits on the island counter. I’ve put off opening them for the last two days. There is nothing I can do about them, after all. I can’t avoid it forever. I open my laptop, going to the Excel spreadsheet Dad set up for me and cringe when I enter the negative numbers. How the hell was I going to afford the farm? I always knew horses were expensive—especially sick horses—but I had no idea how many thousands of dollars it took to keep this place open month after month.

  “How did you do it, Mom?” I ask, and I put my head in my hands. My grandmother—Mom’s mom—offered to give me money, but I turned it down, knowing she didn’t get much living off of social security. But damn, I could use all the help I could get right now.

  “Hay?” Lori calls from upstairs. “You down there?”

  “Yeah.”

  She slowly comes down the stairs, the wooden boards creaking under each foot. “Who were you talking to? I heard you crying. You okay?”

  “Dr. Wells.”

  “The vet?”

  “Yeah. She has a newborn foal that needs a home.”

  Lori squints in the morning light. “You’re taking her, right?”

  I nod and get a second coffee mug out for Lori. “I didn’t want to,” I confess. I turn to my best friend. Lori likes horses but isn’t as passionate as I used to be. Sometimes I think it is odd I am best friends with someone who doesn’t eat, sleep, and breathe horses like I did, especially when we were younger. “I’ve never not wanted to before.”

  She sips her coffee. “It’s the first time you’re doing this alone,” she says softly.

  “I know. Phoenix…we set out to get her together. But this foal…I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t.”

  “You should. Haley,” she starts, and I know she’s serious. “I’m worried about you. I know it takes a long time to heal, but you’re shutting everything out—even the horses—and that scares me so much. I don’t want you to shut down completely.”

  I can’t argue, can’t tell her she’s wrong. She’s not. I want to tell her about the visions, about the horrible, nightmarish flashbacks that suck me into hell, repeating the last horrible moments of that night over and over and over until I’m sure I’m nothing more than a pile of ash and bone.

  But I don’t.

  “I’ll be okay,” I tell her. “This foal will be a lot of work. It’s the perfect distraction.”

  Lori smiles before her brow furrows. “Yeah, a newborn is going to be a lot of work. What are you going to do?”

  “I have today and tomorrow, then I’ll call in sick Monday if I have to. So that’s three days to try to get her to drink from a bucket or a hanging bottle. If I need to take the day off Tuesday, I will too.”

  Lori doesn’t say anything. She sips her coffee, looking concerned. “You have a date with Aiden tonight.”

  “I’ll cancel,” I say.

  She spits out her coffee. “You can’t cancel on Aiden!”

  “The horse is more important to me. Someone has to be with her tonight to make sure she settles in, to make sure she’s not missing her mother, and someone needs to bottle-feed her.”

  “Okay,” Lori says after a minute’s consideration. “I’ll stay and watch the baby for a few hours so you can go out. Kit owes me anyway.”

  “I can’t make you do that.”

  “You’re not making me. I volunteered. And it’s a baby horse. I love baby animals! Just show me how to feed the poor thing, and you and Aiden can go out for a few hours.”

  Fuck, she is the best of the best when it comes to friends.

  Aiden

  If I’m not playing a character, I’m drinking. The character doesn’t always have to be a role in a movie. It can be the role of how Aiden Shepherd should be, the role of what’s expected of me. I’m a twenty-four-year-old multimillionaire, after all. I have fame, fortune, and friends who emulate the same. It’s the fucking dream, isn’t it?

  It’s not, and it will never be enough. Playing the role of how Aiden Shepherd should be is fucking exhausting, though over the years I’ve gotten good at shutting everything out, keeping the darkness that lives inside me at bay, keeping it distracted, and keeping me from feeling. Aiden Shepherd never feels numb, he never feels hopeless or lies awake for hours at night, unable to sleep and contemplating if life is even worth living. No, Aiden fucking Shepherd wouldn’t feel those things. He’s got everything, remember?

  I reach for the Scotch on the nightstand next to my bed in the hotel. Ice clinks against the glass. It’s pitch black, and I got home from the hospital a few hours ago. My ankle is swollen and a little painful, and it annoys me more than anything. I chug the rest of my drink, taking comfort in the way it burns as it goes down.

  The empty glass drops to the floor, ice spilling on the white carpet. I don’t care. I close my eyes and put my arm over my face, thinking of Haley. She looked good in that skimpy little dress. The night was still hot, and her sweater was odd. I saw a flash of a scar the first time we met. Did she get that in the fire?

  I asked Claire to find a good place for us to go out to dinner tomorrow. She also arranged a car for me, picked out my clothes, and programmed Haley’s address into the GPS. Which was good, because that meant less shit for me to do in the morning, which really meant I could get plastered tonight and pass out, not waking until after noon. It would give me enough time to sober up, shower, and be good to go.

  And that’s exactly what I do. The day passes slowly, and I start to get nervous. I haven’t felt nervous for a date in years, not even when I was with a Sports Illustrated model. I think about it as I drive to Haley’s house, listening to the directions from the GPS. Claire’s on speakerphone almost the entire time and calls back each time I hang up on her. She’s worried I’m g
oing to get lost or drive off a mountainside or something ridiculous like that. Plus, I refused to let the bodyguard come with tonight.

  It’s not often I’m alone like this. Even in L.A., being “alone” means having people around you, having your PA, manager, and agent close enough that a taxi ride across the city is all it takes to whisk you away to safety and out of the public eye. Out here in Montana, I feel alone. Completely alone, and I kind of like it.

  I know Haley lives in a white two-story house. Like a proper creep, I looked up her address on Google Maps and spent too much time using the street view to peek around. She lives on a country road that wraps around a hillside, leveling out at the top. All I was able to discern from the satellite map was a barn close to the house and a decent length of white fence.

  The sun is setting, casting long shadows over the land. I slow as I go around a sharp turn and my foot lets off the gas. Grass-covered hills turn into giant stone mountains that meld into the darkening sky. The world suddenly feels so big, and I feel insignificant and unimportant. The car idles on the road as I look at the land before me. I blink and shake myself. It’s crazy to think something so wild, something so beautiful and untamed, still exists in this world.

  Not long after, I arrive at Haley’s house. It’s just like it was on the map, but the grass needs cutting and the flowerbed is full of weeds. A white horse looks out at me over a half door and whinnies. I narrow my eyes, still bitter about the fall yesterday. My ankle is feeling okay, and I ignore the doctor’s advice to stay off it for another few days. If the pain gets to me, I’ll just drink. Yeah, yeah…I know. Booze isn’t the cure-all for everything, but it works for me.

  I cut the engine of the Mercedes. Everything about this is so conventional it feels weird, which makes me laugh. An old-fashioned date like this isn’t my norm anymore. I’m off my home turf and feel disadvantaged. Haley made it clear my fame doesn’t sway her opinion of me. I can’t pull the usual cards and impress her and be sure she’ll come home with me, where we’d fuck and I’d pass out, physically satisfied and distracted enough to sleep through the night.

  I take a breath and get out of the car. Lights are on inside the house, and I peer through the windows as I walk to the front door, but I’m unable to see anything past the sheer curtains. A wrap-around porch hugs the farmhouse, and the steps creak under my feet as I ascend the stairs. My heart thumps in my throat and I wish for a drink, more pain meds—anything—to take the edge off my anxiety.

  A cat meows at me, snaking its way around the legs of a wicker chair. Flowers hang from baskets on the porch, leaves and buds dead and withering from being forgotten. Another cat sits on a white rocking chair. A dog barks from inside the house. I extend my hand to ring the doorbell and suddenly feel like I’m on set again. The farmhouse, the picture-perfect view of distant mountains. People really live like this? I take a breath and hesitate.

  It might look like a set, but there’s nothing guiding me. There’s no one to give me a line and cue me along. There’s no redoing an awkward moment or saying a line over and over until it’s perfect.

  Fuck real life.

  The doorbell rings, reverberating inside the house. The black and white cat comes closer, tail in the air. It meows again and rubs its head on my leg. I’m not really a cat person—hell, I’m not really an animal person. It’s not that I don’t like them, it’s that I don’t have time for them. I hold out my hand, and the cat presses its cheek against my fingers, purring already.

  I flick my eyes to the door, wondering if I have time to get a quick selfie in to post to Instagram. A cat and me would get lots of likes, lots of comments from fans, and looking through it would make me feel good. I’ve been advised over and over to post and ignore, but I can’t stay away. I like interacting with fans over social media. I like knowing they like me, that they approve, and they want more. Yeah…I need the validation.

  I get so far as getting my phone out of my pocket when I hear someone rush down the stairs inside. I quickly put the phone back and straighten up. Claire dressed me today. I’m wearing jeans and a dark gray t-shirt under a leather jacket. Everything is designer, and I know it cost a ridiculous amount. Sometimes I think about how incredibly stupid it is to charge several hundred for a fucking t-shirt. But this is how I’m supposed to dress, so I do it.

  The doorknob rattles and my heart skips a beat, knowing Haley is just inches away. Seconds tick by, and my heart begins to beat faster and faster until she finally opens it. The wooden door swings in with a squeak of the hinges.

  “Hi,” I say when I see her. She’s wearing dark jeans, heels, and a flowy top that’s low cut and tight across the chest, and her tits look fantastic. I stare at them for a couple seconds before moving my eyes back to her face. Her hair falls in soft waves around her face, and her makeup is light and subtle. “You look beautiful.”

  She smiles and uses her foot to hold back the dog, who’s wagging her tail to greet me. “You don’t look so bad yourself,” she says, bending over to grab the dog’s collar. I get an even better view of her breasts, and it takes all I have not to stare. “Sorry, she loves everyone.”

  I bend down to the Border Collie’s level. “Is she friendly?”

  “Very.” She gives the dog a few inches. “Settle down, Chrissy,” she says.

  “It’s okay.” I hold out my hands and the dog goes crazy. Haley lets go, and the dog bounds forward, jumping into my arms and licking my face. I laugh and pet her for a second before pushing her back and wiping the slobber from my cheeks. “She is friendly.”

  “Yeah. Some guard dog.” Haley smiles again and rolls her eyes. It’s the most I’ve seen her smile since we met. Chrissy jerks away and goes after the black and white cat. The cat lashes out and hisses, and then they take off. Haley rushes onto the porch.

  “Chrissy!” she yells. “Get back here right now!” The dog disappears around the house and Haley sighs. “She’s so well trained, as you can tell.”

  I laugh. “Should we go get her?”

  “Nah, she’ll come back.” She’s standing right next to me, close enough for me to smell her perfume. “How’s your ankle?”

  “Fine,” I say. “Doesn’t even hurt.”

  “That’s good. Uh, want to come in?”

  I nod and follow her inside, through the foyer and into the kitchen. Baby bottles clutter the counter. I look at them then at Haley.

  “You have a kid?” I look back at the bottles. There must be dozens of them. “Or a lot of kids?”

  “No,” she says. “And sorry this is a mess. Today’s been a little hectic.” She picks up a bottle that rolled off the counter and tosses it into the sink. “Where are you taking me tonight?”

  “I can’t remember the name,” I confess with a smile. I actually don’t know it. But I know we have reservations two hours from now. “So you’re not going to explain why you have a million bottles?”

  Her smile fades and she looks at the sea of plastic and rubber on the counter. “I have a newborn. She’s only taking milk from a bottle right now. When they dropped her off, I was given all these bottles.”

  “You are talking about a horse, right?”

  She nods. “Yeah. I’m trying to get her to drink out of a bucket. It’s exhausting bottle-feeding a foal.”

  “How often do they eat?”

  She makes a face that lets me know: all the damn time. “My friend Lori, who you met last night, is taking over baby duty while we go out.”

  I guess she wasn’t coming back to my hotel then. Dammit. She looks so hot; just thinking about undressing her makes me start to get hard. I blink the thoughts of her naked away. I can’t let my brain wander past that, though the harder I try to not think about it, the more I find myself wondering what she feels like.

  “What do you feed a baby horse?” I blurt, needing to stop thinking about laying Haley down and slowly stripping her clothes off. Milk, plonker, that’s what all babies eat.

  “A mixture of special formula and co
w’s milk. Goat’s milk is better, but it’s super expensive,” she says, then she looks embarrassed to bring up money. What’s expensive to her isn’t to me. I haven’t always had a lot of money. I can still understand, and still feel the stress of not having enough. I remember the twisted knot that formed in my stomach when I had to scramble to pay bills.

  “And you feed her a few times a day?”

  She raises an eyebrow. “Try a few times an hour.”

  “Ouch.”

  She shrugs and wraps her arms around herself. “It’s what has to be done. Hopefully she’ll be able to drink from a bucket or I can hang bottles in her stall. And really, I worry about her getting depressed from missing her mom more than anything. Foals like to be snuggled. I’ve been holding her all day, and I’m sure I will tomorrow.” She sighs. “Hopefully she’ll adjust. I can’t miss that many days of work.”

  “You take off work to take care of your horses?” I don’t mean to sound judgmental, but I’m surprised by her devotion.

  “Someone has to.”

  “That’s kind of amazing,” I say, and she blushes. We look at each other, unmoving, for a few seconds. The silence is growing awkward. Why did I come inside? This is weird, just standing here. Where is our scene break? Where are the writers to move this along, to make something happen, and get us out of just fucking standing here?

  Something bangs and scratches on the front door, causing me to jump.

  “It’s Chrissy,” she tells me, and she walks off to let the dog in. I take the time to look around the kitchen. Besides the various bottles on the counter, it’s clean but cluttered. It feels so homey, so real. I lean against the island counter and cross my arms, grinding my teeth. I start to feel like myself, my real self. I close my eyes and push the darkness away. What the fuck was my problem today? Some days are worse than others, some days I don’t want to get out of bed. Some days I feel so numb I want to hurt myself just to feel. Fuck. I can’t do that. I won’t do that. Not again. I have to be the version of Aiden people expect. I have to believe in him enough I feel it.