Steal Me (Longshadows Book 1)

by Natalia Banks

  And I find myself wondering if this was all planned.

  Did he seriously coach her to make her get me off guard so he could strike? Is anyone that much of an asshole? Could anyone use their child like that?

  I would tell him to leave right now if not for Olivia. I can’t step on and crush her dreams because her dad is an ass. I can’t turn her away and punish her because of who her dad is. But damn it, this is a wrench in my plans. Because I know the second we’re alone, he’s going to try to get me to sell.

  Because men like Mr. Knight don’t understand the word no.

  Chapter 9

  Kieran

  She’s fuming.

  Perfect.

  Knowing I’ve gotten under her skin means I know I’m up one. Sure, she’s pissed, and the dark circles under her eyes that look like delicate bruising tell me she hasn’t’ been sleeping, but all these things will work in my favor. They always do. She’s tired. Off her game. Stressed.

  So she’ll be unreasonable as usual, but she’ll also make mistakes.

  Still, when Olivia laces her fingers with Emma’s I find myself struggling. Part of me wants to tell my daughter not to get attached, but if I do I’ll wind up cluing them both in on my plot.

  I’ll talk to Olivia tonight. When it’s just her and I. I’ll remind her that this woman is still a stranger. She’s not a friend. She’ll never be a friend.

  At the house, she hands me a clipboard and I flip through, signing papers without even reading the forms. I pass it back as she glares at me. She walks past me into the kitchen and grabs an apple and passes it off to Olivia, who smiles and takes a bite.

  We leave the house, heading toward the barn as Olivia crunches and takes Emma’s hand again.

  “Can I see the colt?” Olivia looks up at Emma, who smiles down on her as I follow a few steps behind.

  “Of course. He’s this way.” Emma alters course, and I see Olivia bounce just once with joy. Following, I find my eyes drawn to Emma’s trim backside. The curve of her thighs is still mouthwatering, though I see now that she’s in cream coloured leggings that she’s a bit too thin for my taste.

  In another twenty pounds she’ll be the kind of woman I generally prefer. Still, she’s not bad looking even slim like this. I could still give it to her good.

  As if aware of my thoughts, she glances over her shoulder at me, her lovely cat-like eyes narrowing just a bit as I bring my gaze up to meet hers. Arching an eyebrow at her, I notice Olivia is looking at me. I flash her a big grin, hoping she didn’t notice the tension between me and the woman beside her.

  Judging by the arctic chill in her baby blues, I’m busted. I swear, this girl is just too smart for her own good. So I catch up to the duo and walk beside Olivia. I never want her to see what I do - who I am - and think that’s what men are supposed to be. The dichotomy of who I am and the father I want to be is agonizing.

  Olivia slips her fingers in my hand and grips tightly. I can feel her displeasure in the firmness of her grasp. It feels like she’s trying to hurt me. But I keep my grim loose, careful not to feed into her anger.

  “He’s in there,” Emma says, guiding Olivia to the fence. Instantly, Olivia climbs up and Emma reaches out as if to grip her hips and keep her from falling. Her hands don’t quite make contact and her eyes meet mine, wide and worried.

  “She’s okay,” I mouth silently. Part of me is startled and the rest of me respects how careful and thoughtful Emma’s reaction was.

  Emma nods, her gaze still chilly. She crosses her arms across her chest and stares over the field where a mare and foal play in the grasses. A glance at Olivia tells me she’s loving every second of this.

  “What’s his name?” Olivia asks.

  Emma’s shoulders lift in a thoughtful shrug. “He’ll make it known when he’s ready. His momma is Genuine Honor; Jenny for short.”

  Olivia smiles, her face lighting up. “I love it!”

  “How long have you and your family raised horses?” I ask, trying to be polite. Instantly I’m met with two icy glares.

  Startled, I back up a step, wondering how to deal with my daughter’s sudden anger and the graceful fury behind her.

  “About a century,” Emma says, but I sense she’s being kind for Olivia’s sake. “Are you ready?” She asks Olivia, who’s captivated by the mare and her playful foal. But she nods, climbing down off the fence.

  “You can toss your core out there,” Emma says, “They’ll eat it.”

  Olivia’s face lights up and she tosses her apple core out into the field. “What’s first?” she asks, sounding so responsible and adult it breaks my heart. She’s growing up way too fast.

  “First,” Emma says, a hint of amusement in her voice, “you learn to take care of the horses.”

  Olivia’s nose wrinkles like she knows she isn’t going to like this part. “I have to shovel up poop, don’t I?” she asks, giving Emma a soulful glance that makes Emma grin. The smile is so genuine and beautiful I feel like someone struck me right in the solar plexus. My heart kicks into overdrive and I notice how her smile dims when she notices me over Olivia’s head.

  “You do,” she answers Olivia, staring me down for a moment before her attention returns to Olivia.

  Once again, Olivia slips her hand in Emma’s as they walk toward the barn. I hang back this time, looking over the land. It’s nice to put actual land to plans I’ve drawn up in my mind. The grass, once cut, would make beautiful lawns. It’s free of weeds, verdant green, and perfect. Not that it matters. It would all be mud once the contractors came in to lay foundation.

  But it’s good to know that the very soil itself is in good condition. Marketing rich, backyard garden quality soil is a huge selling point that hits the market I want right between the eyes.

  Catching up to Emma and Olivia, I watch Emma show my daughter how to muck out a stall. I sense she’s enjoying herself. Of course she is. I’m sure she’s getting even with me through making my daughter shovel up dung. What a childlike thing.

  But as I watch, I begin to wonder if I’m wrong. There’s an animation in Emma as she talks to Olivia and works shoulder to shoulder with her. Olivia laughs at something Emma says, and I see them share a giggle.

  After a few minutes, Emma walks over toward me. “She’s doing good,” she says, focusing on Olivia.

  “Thank you for being adult about this,” I say, knowing she could have refused to teach Olivia.

  Emma crosses her arms. “I didn’t do it for you,” she says, her tone stony. “I did it for her.”

  “I do everything for her,” I say, hearing the truth in my words. “Even trying to buy you out is for her.”

  Emma stares at me, shaking her head and letting out an unladylike snort. “Are you kidding me?” she asks, her stare shocked. “Even now you’re trying to use your own daughter against me to make me sell?” she walks away, muttering “Unbelievable.”

  “It’s not like that,” I say.

  She turns to face me as Olivia continues to work just out of earshot. “No?’ she asks, arching an eyebrow at me like she can convince me to tell the truth. Except I am. That wasn’t my intent. Not really. It was truth first, manipulation second.

  Emma looks away, then marches right up to me, planting her hands on her hips. “Look, Mr. Knight,” She says, my name leaving her lips like a curse, “don’t lie to me. I’m not stupid, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t treat me like I am.”

  “I know you’re not,” I say, and she hesitates, studying me intently. Her full attention feels like a ray of sunlight, warm and comforting. But I don’t have time to ponder why. “But I am going to buy this property.” Lowering my voice to a dangerous growl that demands respect, I say, “I always get what I want.”

  She blinks, her gaze softening in a way I didn’t expect. “I’m truly sorry for you, Mr. Knight.”

  She walks away, leaving me trying to figure out what the fuck just happened.

  Chapter 10

  Emma

&
nbsp; As much as I don’t want to, I do feel bad for Mr. Knight. A man who’s had everything given to him – or who has taken everything – is no man at all. Men understand that life is give and take, not take, take, take. And if Mr. Knight has never lost anything important, then he’s shallow and has never experienced life on life’s terms.

  What a pity.

  Olivia stands back to admire her handiwork and I praise her. “Keep up the good work and I might have to hire you on!” I say, and her face lights up.

  “We’d be a great team,” she says, and I feel like I’ve been kicked in the gut by an excited mule.

  At a loss, I merely walk her over to the mare whose stall she’d cleaned. “This is Dear Dreamer,” I tell her, and she strokes the mare’s nose as she talks to her.

  “Hello Dear Dreamer. I feel like we’d be best friends, given enough time.” Her grown up words flash me back to my father. It’s something he would have told a new mare that needed the calming tone of his voice most. And he’d hold the promise through. He’d become fast friends with her, sharing secrets, small talk, and companionable silences all alike with her.

  “Emma?” Olivia says, snapping me out of my moment. I realize tears are welling up in my eyes, and I blink them back.

  “Sorry, I think I was about to sneeze,” I say, hoping the cover is enough.

  “It’s okay to cry,” Olivia says softly, looking over her shoulder at her father, who’s off looking up at the ceiling of the barn, likely appraising the value of the wood. “I cry sometimes too. When I really miss mom, I can’t help it.”

  My throat aches for this little girl whose loss is as acute as my own. “I miss my dad,” I tell her, finding comfort in our common ground. “He died and I miss him every day.”

  “I miss mom every day too,” she says, her hand finding mine in a gesture of comfort that’s wise beyond her years. With a smile, I steer the conversation back to the horse. If I keep talking like this, I’ll cry for real, and while I’m sure Olivia would be level-headed about it, I doubt her father would be. Hell, he’d find a way to use it against me, I’m sure.

  “So, we have to check her hooves.” I show Olivia how to stand and run my hands down Dreamer’s leg. She lifts for me and I use the hoof pick to teach Olivia the parts of the hoof and how to clean them.

  As I talk, I feel Knight’s eyes on me and I glance his direction. He’s watching me with an intensity that’s almost unsettling. My heart begins to pound and my mouth dries up. Thankfully, Olivia says she’s got this and I turn away from his stare and watch her. But I can feel his gaze on me.

  “Good job,” I tell her and she beams at me in an honest pleasure that’s heartbreaking. “Can you do the rest?” I ask and she nods. While she works, I make my way to her father.

  “She’s doing great,” I say, feeling awkward. Part of this job is talking to eh parents. Often I wind up teaching them as much as I teach their children. But not Mr. Knight.

  “She generally does,” he says.

  “You don’t have to be here,” I say. “You signed the waiver. You can go.”

  “I’d rather stay,” he says, leveling that stare at me once more.

  “Fine,” I say, refusing to let him get to me.

  He seems to consider a moment. “So, how is the farm doing?” he asks, and I know he’s pushing.

  “Very well. Overhead is low, profits are high.” It’s not a lie, really.

  “Interesting,” He says, studying Olivia as he stands beside me. She’s working hard at the back hoof, her little face screwed up with intense concentration. “You look like you work too hard,” he says, and I struggle not to roll my eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to retire?”

  “I’d be bored,” I say, refusing to think about how life would be if I wasn’t working myself to the bone day in and day out.

  He glances at me, his expression incredulous. “Really? You wouldn’t like to see the world? Travel? See all the great things the world has to offer outside this place?”

  “That would be fun for a little while,” I say honestly. “But I’d get homesick pretty quick and miss my home here, and my life.”

  He falls silent, and I wonder what approach he’ll try to take this time. Thankfully, Olivia finishes up and I hurry to her side to see her handiwork. She’s done well, and I show her how to saddle up the mare. She’s a quick study, and she bridles up Dreamer without help.

  “Always look forward when leading,” I tell her as she leads Dreamer out toward the round pen. Grabbing a hardhat, I follow her. While I don’t look to see if Knight is following, I sense his eyes on me once more and know he is without a doubt.

  At the round pen, I help Olivia put on the hardhat. Once it’s secure, I help her mount and run her through the basics before letting her try for herself. I fall back toward the fence, knowing she’ll learn quickly. Dreamer has been training riders for well over a decade, and she’s good at it. If Olivia makes a mistake, Dreamer will let her know.

  “Is she still doing good?”

  Without looking at him, I answer. “She’s a natural. Are you sure she’s never had lessons?”

  “Quite,” he says, the single word clipped.

  “I’m never going to sell,” I tell him, needing him to hear it again. “There’s nothing you can do to me that will make me budge.”

  “Why are you so unreasonable, Emma?” he asks. As he says my name, my body lights up like a Christmas tree. Nerves fire off white-hot and excited. It’s confusing, and I try to formulate a response.

  “I’m not unreasonable.” How dare he be so rude?

  He’s silent, and I can’t help but rise for the bait. “What makes you think I’m being unreasonable?” I ask, feeling anger surging in my gut.

  “I offered twenty million on a property perhaps worth five million at most. You turned me down. That’s unreasonable.” He’s so calm and matter of fact it boils my blood.

  “Perhaps you don’t understand the notion of sentimentality,” I say, hearing the fury in my words. “But how could you understand sentimental value? You always get what you want, therefore you value nothing.”

  “That’s not very nice,” he says, his eyes locked on his daughter as she rides circles around the pen. Dreamer is keeping true to form, moving at a good pace that trains Olivia’s balance without being too quick or changing directions too suddenly.

  “You expect me to be nice?” I ask, incredulous. “You’ve done everything you can think of, even resorting to using your daughter, to make me sell my home.”

  His eyes leave Olivia to lock on me. There’s an icy chill in them as he stares me down. “I never used her,” he says, his voice dangerous. “She wanted lessons. I allowed it.”

  “And it’s luck that brings you both to me?” I say a bit too sweetly. I know he’s lying.

  There’s a flicker behind his eyes, as if he’s surprised I’m calling him on his bullshit.

  As we both look toward Olivia again, I feel the question forming before I can tamp it back. “Where is Olivia’s mother?” I ask, dreading the answer.

  Beside me, I feel Knight tense up and fury begins rolling off him like a choking fog.

  Chapter 11

  Kieran

  She asked a question she has no right to ask, but I’m staring at her lips, wondering if she’d shut up if I kissed her. Would she forget her question then? Her innocent face is sweet, and there’s genuine curiosity in her fresh features.

  And the anger that filled me drains away.

  Of course I’ve got a canned answer. The same one I give people who ask. It’s been rehearsed to death. I say it in my sleep, I say it to strangers who ask, I say it to teachers who think it’s the root of Olivia’s issues.

  But it’s a god damned lie.

  As Emma studies me, I find myself unable to feed her that same old lie. And I begin to wonder who she is and why she’s interested. There’s no reason for her to ask. She’s got no vested interest. No reason to suspect anything out of the ordinary.

  B
ut as the silence stretches out between us, becoming awkward, I see her lips twist like she’s considering how to fill the void. I feel no such compulsion, and I wait, wondering what she’s going to come up with.

  “I’m sorry,” she says, the words popping out like she tried to hold them back. Her face flushes red and she looks toward Olivia who’s still riding well, talking to the horse as she goes in circles. But all I can do is stare at Emma.

  I’m torn. Part of me is pissed she’s trying to get so personal. Part of me wants to know why, if she’s someone I need to worry about. I know Cami is looking for me. Is Emma a spy? But the loudest part of me wonders why there’s a sudden sheen of tears in her verdant eyes as she watches Olivia.

  “She’s a natural,” Emma says, and I sense she’s trying to fill the silence and bury her mistake.

  “It’s none of your business,” I say, needing her to know where she stands as far as my family goes. We’re here so Olivia can learn to ride. Not so Emma can find a way under our skin or into our hearts. She’s got no reason to get personal.

  And I don’t want her to.

  Emma glances over at me, her cat-like eyes wide and worried. “I know,” she says softly, the words soothing like a bandage on an open wound. “I’m sorry.” Her eyes dart back and forth between mine as the wind toys with a stray lock of her golden hair that’s found its way free and clings to her neck. I want to move it, to brush it back, but I know better than to touch her.

  Everything in me feels magnetized to her right now. Her eyes are warm and kind, and I sense something there; not pity – empathy. It’s a refreshing change. Even Nikki looked at me with pity. Everyone does.

  But not Emma. There’s something so pure and real; kind, even, in her eyes. It melts the deepest layer of ice around my heart and I instantly struggle to rebuild the protective shield.

  As if she feels it too, her eyes dart to my lips, then back up to mine. Her body softens, as if her spine is slowly failing her. But when her pink lips part, just a little bit, I feel like I’ve been kicked in the balls.