“Thank you,” I whisper, the words feeling like sandpaper on my throat.
With that, he leaves, and I stare after him until the water boils over.
Chapter 7
Kieran
I open the door and feel his presence before I see him sitting on the bench beside the front door. “What are you doing here, Connor?” I ask, annoyed at his refusal to take a damned hint.
“You’re not answering my calls, mom’s asking after you, and we need to talk.” Connor’s wound up tighter than a tinker toy, and I want to turn him the other direction so he’ll click-clack right off my porch.
“I’m a busy man.” It’s not a lie. But the look on his face as he glares up at me is enough to run my blood cold. There’s an icy fury in him blazing white hot. He blames me for everything. And maybe he’s right. Maybe it’s all my fault.
“What do you want?” I ask, tired of all the drama and long-buried hatred.
He stands, straightening up all six feet four inches of his height. Eye to eye, toe to toe, we stand. Staring one another down like rival wolves, we stand silent. “Call your fucking mother,” he growls, the sneer on his lips telling me exactly what he thinks of me.
He moves in closer until only inches separate us. “You’re not too damn busy for her. Pull your head out of your ass and remember where you came from. Who you came from.”
A cold, hard smile tugs the corners of my lips. “Fuck you, Connor. Get the hell off my porch.”
He doesn’t move, though, and I cross my arms waiting for him to man up and walk the hell away. Connor’s not a fighter. Our youngest brother is the one more likely to throw a wicked right hook. But he’s not here right now.
“You won’t stop until you kill her too, will you?” Connor asks, his ice blue eyes freezing over.
And I break. Blinking, I look away from him and toward the front door, praying Olivia is up in her room, far away from the conversation taking place here. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say finally, my gaze flicking back to Connor.
He nods his head, a mocking expression on his face. “Of course. Nothing is ever your fault, right? Perfect fucking Kieran Knight. Hey, I think I saw a bench in town without your face on it. Should I send the location to your PR department so they can fix it?”
I’m tired of this fight. He’s my brother. My blood. My family. We weren’t always at each other’s throats like this. We were best friends as kids. We hid from dad’s rage fueled episodes together. We stood up to him and protected mom from him together. We took beatings so she and our youngest brother wouldn’t.
But now we might as well be mortal enemies.
“That son of a bitch deserved what he got,” I say.
Connor’s eyes widen. He’s quick to wave a finger in my face. “How dare you? That man was your father.” He’s dangerously quiet.
“That man,” I say with as much derogatory hatred as I can muster, “beat our mother. He wasn’t a man. He was a fucking piece of shit coward woman beater. How can you be so loyal to him?” It baffles me. We grew up together. We saw what he did. We felt his wrath.
But Connor feels bad for the fucker.
Connor seems to take a second to gather himself. His answer is so poised I find myself listening. Really listening, perhaps for the first time ever.
“Dad was sick,” Connor says, placing his hands on his hips as he speaks. His expression is far away, somewhere over my shoulder, perhaps focused on ghosts I can’t see. “But you turned your back on him. You didn’t try to help him. You let him down.”
“Don’t pin that shit on me,” I snarl. “He made his choices. He chose what he did.”
Connor fixes me with an unnerving stare. “He didn’t choose to be sick. He didn’t choose that.”
“Why did you come here?” I ask, ready for him to just go and leave me and my family alone.
“Cami is trying to find you.”
My heart sinks to my toes. Connor seems to see the panic I feel and he speaks quietly. “I didn’t tell her anything. But I thought you needed to know.”
“Thanks.” The word is less hollow than I feel, but Connor shrugs it off like I’m just saying it out of habit.
“Call mom,” he says, straightening up the lapels of his charcoal suit as he turns to walk down the steps like he owns the place.
“Connor,” I say and he stops, pivoting on his heel to face me. “I owe you one.”
He winks. For a second, it feels like the old days. The days before everything in my life fell apart. The days where I called him friend as well as brother. I watch him go and pull the phone from my pocket.
Dialing the number from memory, I wait as it rings.
“Kieran!” Mom sounds deliriously happy and I can’t help the smile she brings to my lips.
“Hi mom. How are you?” I ask, keeping my tone as upbeat as possible. Across the road, Connor pulls his truck off the road and honks as he speeds down the drive.
“It’s so good to hear your voice,” she says, and I sit on the porch, ready to devote the next few hours to her. It’s the least I can do. Connor’s right; I can’t forget where I came from.
“Daddy! Daddy!” Olivia bounces around with every word over her lips.
“Yes, yes, we’re going.” She’s been like a crazy puppy the last few days. Waiting for her first lesson riding horses has been the hardest thing she’s had to deal with for the last week. All the crushing boredom she’s feeling not being in school and not seeing her friends has transferred to me.
Still, as I grab my keys, I feel a sense of excitement welling up in me. It’s not unlike the feeling I’d had as a young boy feeling my first crush. That excitement to see her face at school had made my heart beat fast, made my flesh tingle, made my mouth dry up like the Sahara.
I’m excited to see Emma again.
It’s odd. Women don’t create feelings like this within me. Not for years. Women are wonderful, I love them, until I’m done with them. But they don’t revert me to that young boy experiencing my first crush.
Which is confusing. She hated me. I don’t like her. She’s stubborn and unreasonable. I mean, I offered her exorbitant amounts of money for her land. Yet she’d stuck to her guns for some insane reason. Twenty million is more than she’ll bring in in a lifetime, I’m sure. More than that damn ranch will make for her, absolutely. So clearly, she’s unreasonable.
And I don’t have room for stubborn, unreasonable women in my life. Especially not ones who eye me with the same distaste I often feel for myself.
“Daddy!” Olivia tugs at my sleeve and I resist the urge to tell her not to do that.
“Are you ready?” I ask her, scanning the house one last time. Somehow it feels like this day will change everything, and I’m desperate to remember how it is before I go. For comparison. Soon I’ll have a new stretch of land to make us millions. Soon my fortune will grow. Onward and up.
What had mom said? You’ve always been driven. Just don’t forget to respect the people who make everything possible.
Well, mom didn’t meet Emma.
Chapter 8
Emma
I wake to dawn. A single ray of sunlight streams between my curtains and warms my face. Blinking the sleep from my brain, I sit up.
“Dad!” I call, excited to be up and ready to help him.
Then the world comes crashing back.
Dad is gone.
I’m alone.
Suddenly, I feel like I weight a million pounds. Tears sting in my eyes as I flop back onto my bed. That same warm sun beam lights my face and blinds me. I stare into it, peering between the curtains and catching a glimpse of blue sky beyond.
It’s not fair.
How can the morning be so beautiful when I feel so terrible?
Outside my window, I hear birds singing their hearts out. The sound used to make me smile, but now everything just hurts. Internally, I search for a reason to get out of bed. Something. Anything.
Jenny’s new colt.
>
I sit up and grab some clean clothes. Dressing in a hurry, I make a stop in the bathroom. Scrub face, relieve self, avoid my eyes in the mirror. Drag the brush through my hair. Gather up the mess of reddish brown hair and twist it up behind my head more for getting it out of my way than fashion.
Then I catch my glance in the mirror.
It’s like time stops as I stare at this stranger. This imposter. Who is this skinny girl with the too pale skin? I look like a walking corpse. Like death personified. In this moment, I hate her. I remember how I looked before dad got sick. I was stronger then. My arms were more muscled. My body filled this stupid tank top then.
Now I’m just a skinny waif that’s clearly not able to take care of herself.
No wonder Mr. Knight thought I wasn’t the owner of this place.
I don’t look like I could own anything other than a permanent bed in the local hospital.
What would dad say if he saw me now?
Shoving aside the thought, I leave the bathroom. On the porch, I grab my boots and shove my feet in them. With quick steps, I rush to the barn. Inside, the heat and horse smell hits me like a truck and I close my eyes and smile, feeling a tiny sense of peace. In mind’s eye, I can see dad here, mucking out the stalls and talking to the horses as he goes.
But when I open my eyes, it’s just me looking out over a sea of faces peering curiously at me over stall doors.
“Good morning,” I say, watching ears swivel and lock on my voice. Gathering up the tattered edges of my courage, I make my way to Jenny’s stall. I’ve got this. I can handle this life. I’m stronger than this.
“Hi Jenny,” I say, peeking over the stall door. Past her, her colt is nursing, his little tail swishing back and forth like he’s feeling frisky. I rub her face as I watch him. “We’ll get you guys outside for some running time today, okay?” I say. She nickers and rubs my shoulder with her nose. I pat her neck as she lips at my hair.
“Knock it off, little lady,” I tell her.
With quick hands, I make rounds, pitching feed into bins. When waters are filled, I begin to take horses out of stalls, one by one. I brush them out, talking to them all the while about everything and nothing. When they’re brushed, I pick out their hooves, then grab the wheel barrow to muck out stalls.
I leave one.
Some part of my brain remembers that I’ll be teaching that sweet-voiced little girl today. And part of my method is to teach everything from the ground up. She’ll learn to muck, to brush the horse, to pick hooves. Everything.
Because the only way to respect an animal is to care for it.
When I’m finally done, the sun is warning me it’s nearing one. Only a few more hours to finish up the tasks I need to get done for the day.
With trembling hands, I halter up Jenny. There’s no need to rope her colt; he’ll follow his momma. “Let’s get you out to pasture,” I say to her and she tosses and lowers her head several times before settling and following me out.
When they’re out in rolling green grasses, I stop to watch them for a while. Jenny’s ready to let out some of the steam she’s feeling at being cooped up so long. And her colt is bouncing around like grass is both the scariest and most amazing thing he’s ever experienced.
Dad would have loved this.
My phone rings and I pull it out of my pocket.
“Hi Emma!” There’s no mistaking the exuberant voice on the other end of the line.
“Olivia!” I say, glad to hear from her. And it dawns on me; I’ve been looking forward to giving her lessons. Her excitement is infectious. There’s an excitement in her that’s so pure I find myself hoping I’ll feel it with her as she learns.
“We’re here early. Is that okay?” She sounds so scared I feel bad for her.
I can’t help but smile. “It’s fine. Your dad can get the annoying paperwork out of the way first and then we’ll have a ton of fun.”
I can hear the excitement in her words as she speaks to someone I can barely hear in the background. But he sounds handsome.
Stop it, I chide myself. Still, my heart kicks into overdrive.
“We’re parked out by the house,” Olivia says.
“I’ll be there in a second,” I say, walking toward the house. As I circle around the house, I see a familiar truck.
No way.
A little girl piles out of the truck and races toward me. I catch her as she launches herself at me in a genuinely warm hug. But over her head, I meet the brilliant blue eyes of the one man I don’t want to see right now.
Anger backs up my throat like bile as I stroke the girl’s hair. She clings to me as he moves toward me with an air that’s decidedly at ease. But the look in his eyes is all victorious.
I want to slap him.
“Hello Emma,” he says, his throaty voice sending my pulse into a gallop that leaves me feeling faint. How dare he?
Olivia finally pulls back and looks up at me. “Your stomach is rumbling,” she says with all the innocence of a child. I smile at her.
“I must have missed lunch,” I say, realizing I didn’t eat breakfast or lunch. “Why don’t we go in? I can make you a snack,” I say, glad I’d decided to do a bit of shopping yesterday. The part of me that wants to ignore Mr. Knight wins out, and I lead Olivia toward the house. When her fingers slip in mine, my heart melts.
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.
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