Tin

by K. S. Thomas

  Tin

  by

  K.S. Thomas

  Copyright © 2015 - by Karina Gioertz.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the consent of the author, except where permitted by law.

  Tin is a work of fiction. All characters and subject matter are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real persons, alive of dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover by Mae I Designs and Photography

  www.maeidesign.com

  Final Proofing by Magic Of Books

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  A Note From The Author

  Author K.S. Thomas

  Further Reading: Bittersweet

  Acknowledgements

  Naturally, no book would be written, let alone published, if it weren’t for a great deal of amazing people. Like my daughter, who patiently accepts that there are times when I am completely zoned out, my mind wrapped around fictional people and imaginary conversations, and I need a minute to readjust before I can carry on in the real world.

  Or my friends and family, who have come to understand that deadlines I set for myself are taken as seriously (or more seriously) as they would had they been set by a publisher...other than me. And that this means I may be sleep deprived, cranky and less social for large chunks of time. I am thankful they not only understand and accept this, but continue to love me in spite of it.

  Then, of course, I have to thank those who bravely show up to beta read my first drafts and offer feedback I appreciate beyond measure. Tin’s betas included some lovelies, old and new! So, here’s my official THANK YOU:

  Stephanie

  Tawnya

  Stephen

  Rachel

  Alyssa

  You’re all totally awesome and drenched in awesome sauce!!

  A special thank you also goes to Tami at Magic of Books Promotions, for not only handling the final proofing and ensuring the book was polished up and ready to go, but also for handling all of the marketing involved in the release. It is by far my least favorite task and I am so thankful to have found someone who loves my book babies as much as I do and goes above and beyond in finding them new homes with loving readers ;-)

  Now, my thank you to you. And a little something I want to share with you before you begin reading...

  When I first sat down to write this book, I had a very basic idea of what it would be, but no real direction. Then, once I got going, there was no stopping it. The story just flowed out of me as if it’d been waiting for a long time to be set free. Maybe it had been. Some stories are like that. And I know why, but that’s not important.

  Quinn will always be near and dear to my heart, and I know not everyone who reads this story will feel that way. And that’s okay. Maybe that’s better even. It’s hard to want people to understand her when it makes me sad to think about what it means for many people who do.

  While her story ultimately came together through research and the usual dose of imagination, it was also founded in a place of personal experience. Experience I’d never expected to have. That's life though. And, I’ve learned that not all aspects of pain are bad...

  In the end, I'm grateful to be the person I am today. To know what I know. Even if the journey wasn’t always enjoyable, I’m quite pleased with the current destination and have great hopes for future travels.

  Chapter One

  Riker

  I fucking hate my life. Really. Fucking. Hate. It. I’m pretty sure the only reason I’m even still here is because no one else is left to live it. It’s not even my life anymore. Just pieces of everyone else’s. Shit they left behind that couldn’t be sold or handed off to strangers. Responsibilities. Land that’s been in this family for generations. And that motherfucking horse. Nox.

  He was my grandfather’s pride and joy. Pretty damn sure he loved that horse more than he loved any of us. Although I don’t see why. That four legged asshole has done nothing but cause problems for the ranch since my grandfather’s been gone. Three years now, he’s been busting through fences, tearing up stalls and scaring off pretty much anyone who’s willing to get close enough to feed him. Which leaves me. But it’s all good. In the grand scheme of things, Nox is but a minor listing on the billboard of reasons, I fucking hate my life.

  ***

  Quinn

  I glance down at my black leather boots. They’re not faring well in the muck and mud, but after last night’s rain, I expected as much. Once upon a time, I had proper clothes for this stuff, these days, however, most of my wardrobe consists of skinny jeans and ballet flats. And I’m not complaining. I’m just not prepared. But then how prepared do I need to be today? It’s my niece’s birthday party and even though she’s about to get up on a horse, it’s not likely I’ll be getting anywhere near one. Still, I wish I had my old boots.

  “This was a great idea, Kirsten. I think the kids are having a blast.” I take my seat next to the other moms on the bench outside the riding arena. Automatically, I scan their footwear. I smile internally. At least I still knew better than to wear opened toed sandals.

  “Sophie is doing awesome. Is this her first time on a pony?” My sister’s friend, C.J., leans forward to see past the two moms sitting in between her and Kirsten. She’s seated second to last on the bench, right next to me. “Well, no shocker there. Look at who her aunt is. Sophie was probably born with some sort of special pony DNA.”

  I laugh. “Are you implying your child is part pony? And that she inherited this pony-part from me?”

  “Fine. Maybe not a pony gene. Just your pony sense.” She’s grinning. She’s the only one who’s been around long enough to remember.

  “You ride, Quinn?”

  “Used to.” Another lifetime ago.

  C.J. shrugs. “I didn’t know that.” And I can tell it’s really bugging her. C.J. likes to be in the know. And we all like it when she is, because she spreads ‘the know’ around. In a totally ‘non-gossipy, just informing every one of the current events like I’m a newscaster and it’s my job’ sort of way. And really, where would we be without the news? Especially since I’ve only just moved here. Meeting C.J. has really gone a long way in getting to know everyone else. Even if I haven’t actually met everyone else yet.

  Right now she’s staring back and forth between my sister and I, shaking her head, and I can’t tell if it’s because she’s so distraught over having been left in the dark about my little riding habit or if we’ve done something else to offend her that I just don’t know about. It’s possible. I love C.J. and all, but that girl is high maintenance. “Sometimes I really don’t see how the two of you are even sisters.”

  Ah. That thing. Yeah. We knew about that, too. Which is why Kirsten whips back her long perfect platinum blonde curls and laughs while I tuck a strand of my dirty blonde waves carelessly behind my ear and offer up an awkward smirk. It’s the best I can do sitting next to life-size Barbie.

  Feeling properly motivate
d to move this conversation along, I point out at the six girls straight ahead, just bobbing along on their ponies. Well, they’re horses. But everyone here’s been calling them ponies and I don’t want to be the asshole who corrects them now.

  “Anyway, how long are they going to make the girls just walk around in circles? I mean, this is a lesson. Right? They should be teaching them stuff.”

  Kirsten gives me a look and I know I’m annoying her already. I do it a lot. But today it’s in record time and I feel all at once slighted and impressed with myself.

  “They’re only five, Quinn. They’re stoked just to be up on a pony.”

  And now I kinda do want to correct her. But I won’t.

  “I’m just saying. You paid for a lesson. A lesson implies learning stuff,” I grumble as I slide myself off the bench. As much as I’m trying, I still don’t fit in with Kirsten and her friends the way she’d like me to. I don’t really know what she thought would be so different this time around. We certainly never hung around with the same crowd when we were kids.

  Even with the age difference meaning less now at twenty-two and twenty-seven, we still couldn’t be less alike. If anything, the last three years have probably put more distance between us than ever. But I know Kirsten, and she’ll never accept that. She needs us to be close. She needs us to be perfect and sisterly. Because she’s perfect. Only I’m so far from it, perfect looks like a speck of dust from where I’m standing.

  I hear C.J. make a comment about my sudden exit, but I don’t turn around. Instead, I head toward the barn to try and absorb some of the scents. Maybe if I just stand inside an empty stall for a while and then don’t shower for a couple of days, I can pretend my life hasn’t turned into the shithole it is. I realize of course, Kirsten would never let me stink up her house like that, not with horse or myself. So this very moment is an act of playing pretend already, but I’m getting good at that. Playing pretend. It’s my thing. I’m the master of it.

  Rounding the corner to the front of the structure, I’m suddenly face to face with a riderless horse running straight at me in a full gallop. Without even thinking, I stretch out my arms and step directly into its path.

  “Whoa. Whoa, now.” It’s the most gorgeous Friesian stallion I’ve ever seen and he slides to a stop just a few feet in front of me. Double checking to make sure I’m right about this boy business, I take a step toward him. He shies away, backing up and I can tell he’s seriously considering bolting again. “Easy, boy. It’s okay. You’re okay.” Keeping my eyes averted and walking slightly sideways, I continue to approach him until I’m standing at his side. “There you go. That’s a good, boy.” Careful not to startle him again, I slowly reach my hand up along his neck, patting him gently before grasping a handful of his mane near the withers. Considering he’s not wearing a halter or a bridle, there isn’t much else I can hold onto right now and letting him roam the property while kids are present, doesn’t seem like the most excellent idea. Of course, now that I’ve got him by his mane, I’m not really sure what to do next.

  “Nox. You sonofabit-. Oh.”

  I turn toward the deep voice and realize I’m standing face to face with the second most gorgeous thing I’ve seen today. Except while the first one was scared, this one looks pissed.

  “I take it this guy is with you?” I start walking toward him, clicking my tongue to let my new horse boyfriend know we’re moving.

  “He is. Or he was.” The guy is still scowling and I’m already starting to take back the gorgeous thing I thought about him a second earlier.

  “You know horses.” He says it like it’s a statement, but the expression on his face suggests it’s more like a riddle spoken by the Mad Hatter in Wonderland. Completely absurd.

  “I know horses.” I confirm the fact. Then, because I’m tired of holding back every little thing that might offend someone I add, “Judging by the way he came racing over here to see me while you’re over there alone, you don’t.”

  But he just ignores me. Or, ignores my comment anyway. The way he’s staring, piercing me with those devastatingly blue eyes, he’s definitely not ignoring me. “What’s with the boots?”

  “Excuse me?” Except I kinda know exactly what he means and that only pisses me off more.

  “Your boots. They’re sure as hell not made for being out here. Just seems odd someone who knows horses, wouldn’t know that.” And the ‘you’re just another city girl moron’ glare he gives me to follow up his remark leaves little for interpretation.

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but I came here to watch my niece do the riding. If I had known I’d be bailing your ass out, believe me, I would have dressed more appropriately.”

  Then, he surprises me by actually breaking into a smile. And I’m back to believing in his natural beauty. Fuck me, the man is hot. And even though we’re both being assholes, I can tell I’m entertaining him and in some sick sort of way, I find this satisfying.

  “Tell me, Boots. You always this argumentative?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. Are you always such a dick?” I have to bite back a smile. Because, damn. That felt good. And, call me crazy, but I kinda think he liked it, too.

  His mouth opens, and I’m ready to hear what he says to launch round two when the sound of Kirsten’s voice cuts through our moment like an ax. A big, ginormous, chop and hack my moment with hot grumpy cowboy guy to bits, ax. My sister never goes small. Knives. They’re small. Kirsten comes in with an ax.

  “Quinn? Holy hell, what are you doing with that horse? Give it back. Right now.” Her perfect porcelain skin seems to lose another shade of color. I didn’t even know it could do that.

  “Jeez, Kirsten, relax. I wasn’t taking it. What, like I’m going to stick it in my pocket and try to sneak it out of here?”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the crease between his lips twitch briefly. I like it. I want to do that again. I don’t even know why. Well. I kinda know why. And it’s not a good reason. Actually, if I’m totally honest, it’s a horrible reason. “Here. You better take Nox before I use my shrinking potion on him and attempt to squeeze him into my sister’s Beemer without her noticing.” Damn. I did it again. Why didn’t I just shut up after, ‘here’?

  On the other hand, maybe I should keep talking. Because now that he’s standing right next to me, I wouldn’t mind seeing that little smirk up close and personal.

  “Potion, huh. So you’re a witch? Well, that explains the boots. And the hair.” His voice is even darker now that he’s so close, I doubt anyone else can even hear him. I notice the fine lines at the corners of his eyes. There’s a mischievous youthfulness about him, but it’s misleading. He’s probably close to Nate’s age which would put him at right around thirty.

  He slides a halter over Nox’s muzzle and behind his ears, purposely ignoring me the whole time, but I catch his eyes dart in my direction once to see my reaction. I wish it’d been better.

  Rather than do something super clever and confident, I actually reach up to touch my ends, which are purple. A delightful contrast to the dirty blonde I always thought, but clearly Cowboy disagrees. Or, at least he wants me to think he does. That is kinda the thing we have going here.

  “My hair is awesome.” Yeah. That’s the best I can come up with as he walks away, leading a reluctant Nox back into the barn.

  I’m still standing there, debating whether or not it would be weird to hurl another insult his way even after he’s out of sight, when I feel a stabbing pain in my side from where Kirsten has pummeled me with her pointy little elbow.

  “What was that?”

  I don’t even need to turn and look at her to know she’s not happy with me. That tone said it all.

  “What was what? Me and the horse? It got loose. I was just helping out. Doing my part to keep your little birthday troop from getting stomped into the ground. You should be thanking me.” Total bullshit by the way. Most horses will go out of their way not to step on a human being. But Kirsten d
oesn’t know that.

  “I’m not talking about the horse. I’m talking about the guy.”

  I make the mistake of finally moving to face her and I regret it instantly. Both her hands are in tiny fists, propped on her hips and she’s got that expression I swear my mother must have passed down to her in some sort of a welcome to motherhood ceremony when she popped out a baby herself. Because she didn’t ever have it before Sophie.

  “You’re talking about the guy? You mean the asshole who couldn’t handle his horse? Why are we talking about him?” I do my best to match her pose, but I’m a far cry from motherly, so it’s a pretty sad effort, and Kirsten totally bypasses it without so much as acknowledging it. Instead, she narrows her eyes a little more until they’re itty-bitty slits, which she then uses to scan me from head to toe, and I can’t help but wonder if my mom taught her this x-ray vision shit as well.

  Finally her arms drop to her sides and her eyes open up to normal eyeball status again. “Sorry. For a moment there I was worried.”

  I shake my head. “Nothing to be worried about. Trust me.” I don’t trust me. But Cowboy is gone and not coming back out after me. And that I can trust.

  I follow my sister back to the arena where the girls are still riding their ‘ponies’ around in circles the same way they were when I left. I’m hoping I was gone for most of their hour lesson, but I’m thinking it’s really only been like five minutes.

  “There you are. We were wondering what happened to you.” C.J. is up on her feet. She’s got her camera out and I’m guessing she’s gotten every angle imaginable at this point of her daughter on that sluggish appaloosa.

  “Leave it to my sister to attract a runaway horse and a loser to go with it under any circumstance,” Kirsten announces loudly, accompanying the whole thing with a dramatic eye roll.

  “Excuse me?” But no one is paying attention to me. They’re all laughing at my sister’s little display of - I don’t even know what to call it - sisterly concern? Total bitch? I’m going to settle somewhere in the middle on this one and call it good.