My Kind of You (A Trillium Bay Novel Book 1)

by Tracy Brogan

  “Selfie time, Mom!” Up ahead, Chloe stretched her arm as far as she could reach and took more photos of herself and Emily. He heard their laughter floating over the breeze, and it made him smile. They were cute together, and Chloe seemed like a sweet kid.

  “Everybody doing okay?” Emily called out a few minutes later as the trail got narrower and the woods thicker. She looked back over her shoulder at him. He offered up a brief salute.

  “Doing great,” he answered as another pine branch whacked him in the shoulder. Seemed like old Duke here might be a little nearsighted. Or he was doing that on purpose. His horse also seemed to be inordinately interested in the backside of his father’s horse. Every time he got too close to her big, round rump, she’d whip him with her tail and give a little hop and a skip.

  “Sorry to tailgate you, Dad. I’m not doing it on purpose.”

  “Yeah, back it up. I think you’re making my horse jumpy.” Periwinkle gave another little hop in response. “Whoa, whoa there, girl.” Tag patted her neck, and she gave her head a rigorous shake.

  “I don’t think that’s what’s bothering her,” Lilly said. “She seems a little skittish. Do you want to trade? This horse I have is mellow as a hound dog.”

  “No, of course not,” Tag responded tersely. “I can handle her. I’m certainly not going to have you ride the more dangerous horse.”

  Lilly chuckled. “No offense, honey, but I’ve been riding since the first grade.”

  “So, about ten years then?” Ryan said loudly.

  She tossed a dirty glance his way. If she wasn’t annoyed with him before, she was now.

  “I can handle a jumpy horse better than you can,” she said, turning back to Tag. Ryan leaned forward in his saddle. This should be interesting. He’d never heard anyone tell Tag that they could do something better than he could. He saw his father sit up straighter, his tangerine helmet tilting at an angle.

  “I’ve got this, Lil. I’m good. If Ryan would just back up.” Now his father’s voice sounded downright testy. Ryan tugged back on Duke’s reins, for all the good it did. Then he pulled his phone from his back pocket to see if he was talented enough to text and drive. His thumbs moved over the screen to send a message to Bryce.

  GUESS WHAT? I’M ON A HORSE.

  Bryce’s response was almost instantaneous. WHY ARE YOU ON A HORSE?

  RIDING WITH DAD AND BIMBO. BTW HER NAME IS LILLY, NOT DAISY.

  WHATEVER. A ROSE BY ANY OTHER NAME . . .

  VERY FUNNY.

  I THOUGHT DAD HATED HORSES?

  HE DOES. I WILL EXPLAIN LATER.

  Duke stretched his nose forward for another nuzzle with Periwinkle’s ass, and much to Ryan’s dismay, the horse chose that exact moment to blow the biggest, loudest, horsiest fart imaginable. A colonic breeze reeking of hot, musty grass hit him in the face like exhaust fumes. Nonplussed and undeterred, his own horse walked right into it. And then it happened about eight more times. Loud, squeaky, anus-flapping farts, until at last Periwinkle unloaded a dozen road apples directly in front of them. Ryan’s eyes watered as much from the heat as from the velocity. How did horses even do that? Walk and poop at the same time? It was efficient, really. If dudes could do that, he could totally picture Bryce trying to multitask in just such a fashion. He texted his brother again.

  DAD’S HORSE IS A GAS BAG AND KEEPS FARTING AT ME.

  GOT ANY MATCHES?

  IF I LIT A MATCH RIGHT NOW, THIS ENTIRE FOREST WOULD BLOW UP LIKE ONE GIANT FIREBALL. EACH FART LASTS TEN FULL SECONDS. YOU COULD FLY A HOT AIR BALLOON WITH THIS MUCH GAS.

  THAT IS NOT A BALLOON I WOULD EVER RIDE IN.

  GOT TO GO. HAVE TO CLEAN MY SUNGLASSES BECAUSE I’M PRETTY SURE THERE IS HORSE SHIT ON THEM. YOU’RE AN ASSHOLE.

  WHY AM I AN ASSHOLE BECAUSE YOU GOT HORSE SHIT ON YOUR SUNGLASSES?

  NO CONNECTION. YOU WERE AN ASSHOLE WAY BEFORE I GOT HORSE SHIT ON MY GLASSES. I’LL CALL YOU LATER.

  He tucked his phone back in his pocket and pulled off his glasses to wipe them on his shirt, telling himself it was just a smudge and not equine organic matter from Periwinkle’s ass.

  “She’s really not very cooperative,” Tag said as his horse stepped from the path and just suddenly stopped. Duke bumped into her, his face pressed against her butt, and Ryan dropped his glasses.

  “Shit. Oh, I mean, shoot.”

  Chloe rolled her eyes. “Oh, like I haven’t heard worse.”

  “Sit tight, Ryan. I’ll get them.” Lilly was off her horse and handing him his glasses before he could even comment.

  “Thanks,” he said, taking them from her hand.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Periwinkle sidestepped, bumping Duke in the nose, which was the horse’s own damn fault because he was being quite persistent. Clearly Duke was an ass man.

  “Seriously, Ryan,” Tag said. “Could you please back up?”

  “Emily, let’s change up the order here, okay? I’ll take the lead with Tag, Chloe can go in the middle, and you and Ryan bring up the rear,” Lilly said.

  “I think that’s what my horse has been trying to do,” Ryan said.

  Minutes later Lilly and Tag were in the front, Chloe was in the middle, and Emily rode beside him. That was a nice turn of events. She looked completely at ease on that horse, holding the reins in one hand while the other rested casually on her thigh. Today she wore jeans and a red tank top, and Ryan couldn’t help but wonder just how many versions of her there were. The white business suit Emily, carefree sundress Emily, and now cowgirl Emily. Was there a seductress Emily in there somewhere? If so, he’d very much like to meet her. The idea of her in some slinky nightie, or better yet, wearing nothing at all, hit him hard. His attraction to her was just not helpful. Yet it seemed unavoidable.

  “A word of warning,” he said, clearing his throat. “Periwinkle seems to be having some gastrointestinal distress, so I’m not sure you want to be downwind of her.” Periwinkle responded to his comment with another robust fart. “See what I mean?”

  Emily smiled. “Yeah, horses will do that. You get used to it.”

  “I don’t particularly want to get used to it. In Sacramento we have these newfangled inventions called automobiles. You know, horseless carriages? They’re all the rage.”

  A tiny dimple appeared near the corner of her mouth. “Just a fad, I’m sure. I’ve heard the smog and pollution on the freeways is so not pleasant.”

  “True, but then again, I don’t usually have my face a mere two feet behind a tailpipe.” He smiled at her, hoping to look clever, then grabbed onto the pommel of his saddle as Duke veered from the path again, letting a thick branch wallop him in the arm. “And call me crazy, but it seems like this horse is doing that on purpose.”

  Emily nodded, her smile staying right in place. “You’re not crazy. He’s totally doing it on purpose.”

  “Why? Why would he do that?”

  “If you had somebody straddling you, wouldn’t you be trying to get them off?”

  He let that sink in for a second before responding. “I guess I’d sure give it my best shot, depending on who she was and how much fun we were having.”

  The blush started at the neckline of that little tank top and floated its way upward until her cheeks were bright crimson, but her smile was discreet. She gave her head a little shake. “Ryan Taggert, the things you say.”

  “Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” he said, then for the sake of his own sanity, he quickly changed the subject. “So, how goes the renovation at your grandmother’s cottage?”

  She rolled her eyes and looked skyward at his question in a move that reminded him of Chloe. “It’s going to be like running a marathon at a sprinter’s pace. Everything needs updating, I have about eight weeks to make it happen, and my foreman is on a tether.”

  “A tether? For what?”

  “Drunk riding.”

  Ryan couldn’t contain his chuckle. “Drunk riding? How is that even possible? Is it even possible?”

  “It�
��s totally possible. Apparently he and one of the other guys on my crew got drunk and broke into his neighbor’s barn, stole a horse, and tried to ride it. They were allegedly going to the store for more beer but, you know, thought biking it would be irresponsible.”

  “Drunk riding. So I guess that’s . . . an RUI?”

  She dipped her head as she laughed, making that ponytail sway. “An RUI and grand theft equine, I suppose. Fortunately for Tiny—that’s his name, Tiny, even though he’s not remotely tiny. Fortunately for him, the horse’s owner did not press charges for the borrowing of the pony, but my dad still arrested him for drunk and disorderly.”

  Ryan thought about this for a moment. “So, wait a minute. He’s got the tether, but if it allows him to move around the island, how does that stop him from drinking and stealing horses again?”

  Emily’s smiled widened. “Well, turns out it’s not really so much a tether as it is an electric dog collar. If he gets too close to the barn that was the scene of the crime, he gets shocked in the leg.”

  “You are making that up.” She must be making that up.

  “No, I’m not. We have our own brand of justice here on the island.” She winked at him, and he squeezed the pommel again, wishing he could have a few minutes alone. It was going to be another cold shower for him when this day was over.

  “You’re making that up. How would your father even enforce such a thing?”

  “I’m not lying. Ask around. And anyway, Tiny felt so bad about nearly crushing that poor horse, he’s willing to do whatever he’s told. Lucky for me, because for the moment, I’m his boss and I’m the one telling him what to do.”

  Ryan was beginning to realize life on this island did not run quite the same as life back in Sacramento. “What’s the rest of your crew like?”

  “Unique. Unruly. But sincere. I think they’re all intent on doing their best work. You’d kind of have to meet them to really get the true flavor.”

  “Maybe that can be arranged? I’d like to see the place. I do know a thing or two about building and remodeling. I’d be happy to throw in a few suggestions.” He hadn’t meant to make such an offer, but now that it was out there, he didn’t regret it.

  Emily’s nod was slow and deliberate. “Hmm. I’m on a pretty tight budget if you’re asking me to hire you as a consultant. I know how you Taggerts are about money, and I wouldn’t want you to think I was taking advantage of your expertise.” Her words could have been an insult, but her smile said otherwise. She was teasing him, and he liked it.

  “No charge for my expert services,” he said. “Strictly pro boner.”

  What? Shit.

  He slapped a hand over his mouth and glanced at Chloe. Fortunately, she had her earbuds in, not that she would have been able to hear him over her mother’s laughter. He smiled wide.

  “I meant pro bono. The boner just slipped out. I mean . . . um . . . shit.”

  Heat, like another massive horse fart, radiated over his skin. What the hell had he just said?

  “That’s some real selfless charity work there, Ryan,” she sputtered out between giggles, and suddenly he was laughing right along with her. Pro boner? Really?

  “Well, what can I say? I’m a real giver.”

  Chapter 16

  Fifteen minutes later they reached the shoreline near Potter’s Pointe. The woods receded to reveal a grassy area with a few picnic tables, a public restroom, and a drinking fountain. The gray clouds had given way to glorious afternoon sunshine, and the breeze over the water was a nice break from the muggy stillness of the woods.

  “This is Potter’s Pointe,” Emily said. “The spot where the British landed, causing Chief Eagle Feather to ride naked through the town warning the Americans, or so the story goes. I’m not sure there’s much truth to it, but if you ask our historical committee, they will quite emphatically defend it.”

  “I’m thirsty, Mom. Can I get a drink?” Chloe asked, pointing at the fountain.

  “Whoa! What the . . . Whoa!” Tag’s exclamation rang out, and Emily turned just in time to watch Periwinkle lie down right in the middle of the grass and roll to her side. Tag landed with a grunt and a thud, his feet slipping from the too-short stirrups. He lay on the ground as his horse, just as easy as she pleased, popped right back up.

  “What the hell?” Ryan said breathlessly. “Dad, are you okay?”

  “Tag?” Lilly slid off her horse and reached his side before Emily could even comprehend what had just happened. “Are you okay?” Lilly echoed Ryan’s question.

  He sat up and started to pull off his helmet. “Um, I’m fine. I’m just not sure what happened. She just laid down all of a sudden.”

  “You sure you’re not hurt?” Lilly asked.

  “Um, guys?” Chloe said. “Where is she going?”

  Emily’s gaze traveled from Tag to where Chloe was pointing, and there was Periwinkle, wading straight into the water. In seconds she was belly deep in Lake Huron and getting herself a drink. Emily coughed over a chuckle. That’s why Percy told them to head to this spot. He must have assumed the horse would pull this kind of prank. Although it was a little risky since that horse could have rolled right over Tag’s leg. Lilly would never forgive her if Emily broke her boyfriend.

  “That’s legit messed up,” said Chloe, pulling out her phone to photo-document the event with various apps.

  “You didn’t hurt your leg, did you?” Lilly said. “She didn’t land on you, right?”

  Tag finally unfastened his helmet, tossing it on the grass beside him. “No, I’m fine. The only thing bruised is my ego.” He chuckled. “I did not know horses ever did that.”

  “Well, they’re sure not supposed to! I’m going to have a word with that Percy O’Keefe when we get back. Are you sure you’re okay?” Lilly asked again.

  “Yes, I’m fine. Stop fussing.” He stood and rubbed his hip, tilting to the left a bit before straightening up.

  “Um, should somebody go get that horse out of the lake?” Chloe asked. “She’s going kind of deep.”

  Ryan clambered down from Duke’s back and handed the reins to Emily. “I’ll go get her.”

  “Do you have your phone?” she asked.

  “We don’t need to call anyone. I can go get her,” Ryan responded.

  “No, I mean you don’t want to go in the water with your phone.”

  “What? Oh, yeah. Right. Not waterproof. Thanks.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it her. She resisted the urge to see if there was a passcode. Because it might be kind of fun to peek into Ryan Taggert’s virtual black book. Maybe see a few photos of girlfriends, or just to see what stuff he found important enough to photograph. So maybe she just oh-so-accidentally bumped that button with her thumb . . . yeah, there was a passcode.

  “I can get her, Ryan. She’s my horse,” Tag said, taking a step and listing again. Lilly took his arm, and he let her.

  “I got her, Dad.” Ryan hurried toward the shoreline.

  “Shoes!” Emily shouted, and Ryan kicked them off just before hitting the water. She watched as he waded in chest deep until he finally reached the horse, but Periwinkle seemed none too interested in coming back. Ryan tugged and cajoled and even slipped once and went all the way underwater, only to come up sputtering and shaking the water from his short hair. “Come on, you rotten horse,” he muttered.

  This day was supposed to be rough on Tag, but so far Ryan seemed to have gotten the worst of it. Emily and Chloe had dismounted by the time he finally made it back to shore with a drenched and seemingly reluctant mare behind him. Ryan was, of course, soaking wet, too, his gray T-shirt now molding to all those muscles Emily had suspected were under there. She was right. There they were. This was not a man who spent his time on the sofa, and Emily found herself mentally tabulating how long it had been since she’d last had sex.

  A long time. These days she was just too busy with work and taking care of Chloe to cultivate a relationship. Even the casual but with benefits kind, so sex just
wasn’t readily accessible. But here was Ryan Taggert rising up out of the water like Poseidon. Okay, probably not Poseidon, but maybe rising up like a really good-looking man pretending to be Poseidon. He could totally pull that off. And speaking of pulling it off, he handed the reins to Emily and proceeded to pull off that wet shirt.

  Emily heard a soft, faint little sound, like the coo of a baby dove, and realized in an instant that it had come from her own throat. She coughed and turned around to hand the reins to Chloe as Ryan twisted up his shirt to wring it out.

  “Well, that was refreshing. That water is not warm,” he said, using the knotted shirt to try to wipe droplets of water from his skin. The air was balmy enough, but the breeze was strong, and Emily could see goose bumps cover his skin, and that gave her goose bumps of her own.

  That damn horse had nearly rolled over his father, and then she’d nearly drowned him. Ryan did not like that horse. Now he was standing on the grass in wet clothes praying that the frigid water hadn’t reduced him to prepubescent sizing, because he couldn’t exactly pull at his jeans. He couldn’t take them off to wring them out. He just had to stand there, dripping, trying to pretend that he didn’t feel stupid for having slipped in that water. He hadn’t expected it to be so rocky, and his bare feet had given him zero traction.

  “Thanks for getting her, Ryan. I could have done it, you know,” his dad said. “Do you want my dry shirt?”

  Oh. Yeah. That wouldn’t make this worse, him taking the shirt off his father’s back. “No, I’m good. This will dry. Eventually.” He flapped the shirt in the wind a few times. “See, practically dry.” It wasn’t. Not even a little.

  Periwinkle had the audacity then to bump her nose against his shoulder and offer up a friendly little nicker as if they were pals. Stupid horse. “You know,” Ryan said, “if she’d farted in that water, she could have jet-propelled us to shore in a heartbeat.” She bumped him again, and he waited for some laughter at his joke. It was sort of lame, sure, and maybe a little off-color, but he’d expected at least a bit of a chuckle. At least from Chloe. Didn’t all teenagers love fart jokes? But he looked over her way as Periwinkle’s nose bumped him even harder this time.