by Ali M. Cross
The barns came into sight and Sailor slowed her pace. He didn’t know if the horse did it herself, if he did it or Fiona, but he was glad for the few extra moments with her in his arms.
“Just move her over by the door,” Fiona said. She turned her face toward him so he could hear her better, and he looked down, rendered speechless by her beauty in that moment. Her lashes, golden like her hair, hid her eyes from his view, which left him only her straight, elegant nose and soft lips to gaze at. He closed his eyes and swallowed back the wish to kiss her. They weren’t in a relationship. They barely knew each other.
He didn’t trust his voice to respond, so without a word he did as she asked and directed Sailor toward the barn. Finally he cleared his throat and asked, “So how does this work? Do you get off first, or . . . ?”
“You go ahead and get off. Then maybe you could give me a hand?”
He thought about that as he stood in the stirrup and swung his leg over. He doubted she needed a hand, but he wasn’t about to question it.
He stood, his legs wobbly after more than an hour in the saddle, and reached his arms up for her. She swung her leg back over the pommel and put her arms out for his, then he gently lifted her down until her feet met the ground.
She stood, just a foot apart from him, her gaze locked on his. He had the feeling of being adrift at sea, but this time her hands were clasped to his biceps, and his hands were at her waist. He felt safe and tethered. He hoped she felt the connection, too.
“Um,” she said. She moved her leg backward, as if to step away, but Sailor was behind her and when Fiona bumped into her, Sailor responded by pushing back—and shoving Fiona straight into Nix’s arms.
He embraced her and she gripped his jacket. Her mouth parted, and reason abandoned him. He put a finger under her chin and leaned down, pausing a breath from her lips, his eyes locked on hers. She was so open in that moment, her eyes more blue than gray, full of something that looked like hope. He lightly brushed his lips against hers, as if asking permission. He released his finger on her chin, paused again.
Fiona gripped his jacket tighter and didn’t move away.
This time when he kissed her, he let his kiss speak what was in his heart—the wishes he had barely formed, the tenderness he felt for her. He kissed her until everything he felt had been left on her lips. Then he wrapped her in his embrace and rested his cheek against her head, stroking her hair as he held on.
He would have held her all evening if he could have, but Sailor bumped them again—and when he looked up, he saw she was speedily trotting back the way they’d come.
“Shoot!” he cried as he hastily pushed Fiona away and started to jog after Sailor. He forgot to hold on to her reins! Or tie her off! How could he have been so stupid?
“Nix, wait!” Fiona called after him. But he couldn’t let her see him fail, not after . . . after everything in that kiss. He’d never felt a kiss so meaningful in his life. It was terrifying and exhilarating—but it would be the last one if he didn’t catch this horse. He’d never be able to live it down. She’d never respect him and he couldn’t have that.
Fiona stumbled back a couple steps before she realized why Nix had pushed her away so suddenly. Her mind was foggy, her lips tingling, and her body felt cold without his arms around her. But then she saw him running down the path, and Sailor picking up speed far past him.
“Of course she’d run,” she said aloud. She jogged into the barn, down the aisle and into the tack room. She grabbed a key ring from the hook inside the door and ran back to the last stall where they parked the ATV. She hopped on, started the engine, backed it out of the stall and moved onto the path.
She beeped the horn when she got close to Nix and he nearly jumped out of his skin as he pivoted to see her barreling down on him. She laughed, giddy with excitement and something else she couldn’t put her finger on. When he literally jumped into the four wheeler, she grinned at him wickedly. His eyes widened in surprise and his gaze lingered on her, a quizzical expression on his face, but then she had to turn her attention back to the path and the disappearing horse.
“Look at her go,” Nix said, his voice full of awe and wonder.
Fiona sped along the path, her gaze fixed on the black horse, hair flowing from her long tail, forelocks and glorious mane. She looked wild and free, full of life. Fiona backed off the pedal a bit.
“What are you doing?” Nix asked.
“Letting her fly.”
From time to time Sailor whipped her head up, or flicked her hind hooves into the air. She was having the time of her life.
“She’s stunning,” Fiona said. Her heart ached as she watched Sailor run. She remembered when she felt so free, standing on the stage, every ounce of her being engrossed in the music, the high when the audience applauded, stood for her and shouted “Brava!” And now she was like Sailor, stuck in a box, forced to live this slow, quiet life. She knew there was beauty in that too, but creatures like her and Sailor were meant to fly.
“Amazing.” The tone in Nix’s voice drew Fiona’s attention from the horse. He wasn’t looking at Sailor, but at her, his dark eyes hidden beneath the shadow cast by his hat. There was a curve to his lips that drew heat to her face and the ache in her heart burst apart into a billion tiny bits. Warmth flared and she glanced away, suddenly shy and embarrassed.
Nix brushed his knuckles against her cheek, feather-light, and Fiona gave him a smile. She was remarkably uncomfortable, but she wanted him to touch her. She wanted to know if that kiss had meant something—it seemed like it did, but what did she know? She’d had a couple boyfriends through school but it had always seemed as if they were competing with her. Who was the better singer, more talented musician, granted the most principal parts—she never knew what was real. She finally got tired of it and promised herself she’d never date another singer. All singers were divas and she was determined to be the only one in a relationship.
Nix dropped his arm down behind her so it rested on the back of the seat. She could feel his nearness and wished he would touch her again.
“Have you ever seen her run like this?” she asked. She needed to think about something else—anything else but the way his touch, even the casual, careless presence of his arm behind her, made fire flow through her veins.
“Never.” His voice was low and hoarse, like he was having a hard time speaking. She fought the urge to look at him. She was afraid if she saw a look in his eyes that matched the desire in his voice, she’d pull over and kiss him. And while that didn’t seem like an altogether bad idea, it was also a really, really bad idea. Nix cleared his throat. “But I’m going to have to do it more often because this . . . this is something else. I knew she was beautiful but I really had no idea. Not of this.”
Fiona did glance at him then, but his attention was fully on Sailor, his expression full of unabashed adoration. She actually felt a stab of jealousy, wishing he would look at her like that. She shook her head and smiled ruefully at herself. Sailor was a horse, and she belonged to Nix, besides. Of course he loved her. And it wasn’t like Fiona wanted to belong to Nix, or even for him to love her. She wouldn’t be sticking around long enough, anyway.
Please God, let me get my voice back. Let me get back to work. It was the only prayer she prayed, and she had no idea if it would be heard or answered, but it had been all she could manage for the past few weeks. Before that she hadn’t managed any prayers at all. Things had been going so well, she hadn’t needed God.
Ahead, Sailor began to slow. “There she goes,” Fiona said.
“What?”
“She’s slowing down,” Fiona answered. “In a couple minutes you’re gonna take the wheel and keep pace with her, okay?”
“Uh, okay?”
Fiona laughed, surprising herself. The uncertainty in his voice, the anticipation of what she was about to do . . . it drew up a type of joy from deep inside of herself and she laughed like she hadn’t done since she was a child.
Sail
or slowed and Fiona pushed the four wheeler a little faster. She approached the mare carefully, not wanting to spook her and risk her hurting herself, but Sailor’s ears flicked back and forth and she slowed some more. She knew they were there and wasn’t bothered by their presence.
“Okay, now. Got it?” She didn’t look at Nix, but concentrated on Sailor. Her deep, dark coat glinted with streaks of sweat, but her gait was even and steady.
Nix slid over and put his left leg over the gear shift. He nudged Fiona’s foot aside until he had control of the gas pedal. “Got it.”
Fiona let go of the wheel and drew up into a crouching position in her seat. She focused on the saddle, preparing herself to grab the pommel and hoist herself over. When she was a teen she could have done this, but now? She’d barely been able to lift her leg over Sailor’s neck before, and now she wanted to leap onto the back of a galloping horse? Crazy. She was crazy.
“We could just wait until she slows down more,” Nix said, voicing Fiona’s own thoughts. “Or until she stops altogether.”
But Fiona couldn’t stop now. She needed to do this. She was committed.
She carefully stood in the ATV, ignoring Nix’s quiet cursing. She didn’t take her eyes off the saddle.
Five, she breathed. Four. She wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans. Three. Two. She took a deep breath. One.
She leaped.
The four wheeler jerked to the side when she jumped, and Nix fought to regain control before he ran the thing into Sailor’s legs. But the horse swerved, too, under the unexpected weight on her back, so he soon breathed a sigh of relief. That had been one of the most terrifying things he’d been a part of—and he’d jumped off a twenty-foot stage into the waiting hands of a teenage mosh pit once or twice before.
Now he slowed the vehicle down and watched Fiona ride Sailor ahead of him. He wondered what she’d do about the flapping stirrups because even at her height, they were still too long for her—but while he watched she pulled them up and crossed them in front of her so she was riding without stirrups at all. “Huh,” Nix grunted. With the reins in her hand and everything under control, he expected her to slow Sailor down and bring her back around to the barracks. Instead, Fiona glanced at him over her shoulder.
It was hard to tell with strands of her hair obscuring her face, but he thought he saw her grin and a wicked gleam spark in her eye. Then she leaned low over Sailor’s neck and kicked her with both legs—hard.
Sailor lurched forward as if she’d been bitten on the rump and tore off down the lane. Nix was so stunned he forgot to keep his foot on the gas. He watched as the pair turned at the bottom of the pasture, running now along the fence where Fiona’s horse had gotten hurt. Sailor was glorious, and still so powerful after running for the last twenty minutes. And Fiona was . . . the sun.
Nix gasped as the imagery burst into song in his mind. Sailor was the moon, she always had been, and now with Fiona—golden-haired and warm-skinned—on her back, it was like the sun riding the moon. They ran like joy personified through the pastureland, the mountains rising stern and imposing behind them, dressed in autumn colors like a gaudy gown. He wanted to close his eyes, to write the song in his mind. He wanted to book it back to his truck so he could write it all down. Instead he sat there in the idling four wheeler, letting the distance between his two girls grow, while he watched them shine, each in their own magnificent way.
Dimly he was aware that he’d just thought of Fiona as his girl. And dimly, he knew that wasn’t right, that he couldn’t claim her. But at that moment he didn’t care about right or wrong. All he cared about was the joy blooming in his heart.
NIX HAD TIME TO HOSE DOWN THE ATV AND PARK IT back in the stall before Fiona returned with a slathered and exhausted Sailor. His first reaction was to chastise her for working Sailor so hard, but then he saw their faces. The girl was beaming, a light and a happiness like he never imagined glowing on her face. And the horse, well, she walked right up to Nix, lowered her head, and bumped him in the chest. She kept her head lowered, her forehead pressed almost painfully against him, while he did the only thing he could do at that point—he rubbed her cheeks and neck and behind her ears. She was sticky with sweat, but his heart filled with love and joy just the same.
“She loves you,” Fiona said after dropping lightly to her feet. Sailor didn’t move, just continued to blow puffs of air against him.
“She’s never done anything like this before,” Nix said reverently. He looked up from Sailor to see Fiona leaning against the barn door, her arms folded, her expression soft and admiring.
“She’s never felt this free.” The wistful tone in her voice had Nix wondering who she was talking about—Sailor, or herself. He wanted to go to her, to urge her to tell him everything, but Sailor still had him pinned and he didn’t want to break this bonding moment with her, either.
“You mean she just needed a good run? But why is she loving on me? Shouldn’t she be thanking you? You’re the one who rode her. Who let her run.”
Fiona pushed off of the wall and shrugged. She kept her face averted, so Nix couldn’t read the expression on it. “She knows you let her. She knows you love her and take care of her, but that you just don’t know how to let her be free. Except now you do.”
“I can’t ride her like that,” Nix protested. He really didn’t quite know what to make of Fiona’s words. They seemed to have a double meaning, something he couldn’t quite decipher.
“Just let her be free, and she’ll love you as best she can. You good to clean her up? She’ll need a good cool-down.” She faced Nix then, her arms still folded across her chest. She was the cold Fiona again, all the light gone out. He nodded. “Good. I’ve got to go check on Daisy.”
“Want me to come with you?” But she just kept walking like she hadn’t heard him at all.
Fiona’s legs felt unsteady as she took the long way around the back of the house to the pasture she’d tucked Daisy in. She wanted to get out of Nix’s view as quickly as possible. Away from his understanding eyes and the pure love being showered on him by Sailor. She shouldn’t be jealous of Sailor’s affection, but she was and couldn’t figure out why.
On the trail, running so wild and free, she’d felt a bond of her own with the horse, a kinship she hadn’t felt since the stage. Except this was more—instead of the constant competitiveness between her and her costars, she felt only pure joy in the sharing of those blissful moments.
And when they returned, it seemed utterly natural for Sailor to rush to Nix and bask in his love. So natural, Fiona almost wished she could do the same. While she watched them, she imagined it, just for a second. She’d felt so exhilarated and free, and it would have been the perfect ending to land in Nix’s arms. For him to stroke her hair while her breathing slowed and she found her legs again.
Nix was steady. He’d ground her—just like he grounded Sailor. He’d love her without making her feel trapped. She didn’t know how she knew, but remembering the way he’d kissed her, and watching him with Sailor, she just knew. But the love of a good man wasn’t enough to keep her here. A good ride, even an amazing ride, wasn’t enough. She didn’t belong, and that wouldn’t change because of one man and one horse.
She needed music, and she wasn’t going to find it here.
Her step faltered; she wasn’t watching where she was going and the next thing she knew her ankle jagged and she slipped on the loose dirt, fell backward, and slammed her head against the ground. She lay still for a long moment, unable to open her eyes or move or do anything more than breathe. Fear crept over her, gripping her throat, crushing her chest. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t scream. Sparks of light flashed behind her closed eyelids and she opened them wide—a man loomed over her, silhouetted by the streetlights, hidden by shadows. He was big and breathing hard, pressing all his weight into her throat.
Sirens sounded and he looked up—and for just a moment, she saw his face. Then darkness engulfed her.
Fiona bolted awak
e, thrashing about as if fighting someone off.
“Hey, hey. It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe.” Nix murmured any words he thought might comfort her. She grabbed at her throat and made choking noises while tears streamed down her face. It was the tears that disturbed him most of all. She put on such a brave face all the time, acted like everything was fine, but she was definitely not fine.
This was so much more than some nodes on her vocal cords. This was something else.
He remembered a night when he’d stumbled out of his room at some hotel, to find his drummer making unwanted moves on a girl who’d been at the concert that night. Nix was no prince, but he drew the line at consent and from the way the girl struggled, Derek didn’t have it. He’d made short work of kicking Derek out of his suite, then found himself face to face with a crying, half-drunk, half-naked girl.
Thinking back on it now, he hated that he’d been of so little use to her. He’d looked into her terror-stricken face, handed over her belongings and watched her stumble-run out of the suite. He should have called the cops. He should have fired Derek for being a scumbag. He should have made sure the girl found her way safely home. He should have done a lot of things. That’s why he knew he had a long way to go to atone for his sins.
But it was also why he knew that whatever it was that had sent Fiona from the Met, it wasn’t overuse of her voice. The look he’d seen in that groupie’s eyes was the same one he saw now in Fiona’s. That, coupled with her urge to fight him every time he tried to help, and the way she clutched at her throat—left him pretty certain he was right.
Finoa MacDonald had been attacked. And for some reason she didn’t want anyone to know about it.