by Tessa Bailey
“Don’t think I’m letting the subject slide.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, supergirl.”
She sent him some hefty side-eye, but softened when Kyler pasted on his most contrite expression. “Once in a while at Nelson’s. She’s usually there with friends having coffee and pie.” A beat passed. “She always asks me if I’m seeing anyone.”
“And you always say, ‘No, ma’am. Just textbooks and the backs of my eyelids.’”
Bree stretched her fingers on the steering wheel. “Should have known she was asking for you.”
“Got the full report every Sunday.” They traded a turbulent glance. “You want to know what really got it in my head, Bree? That I needed to come get you back?”
“I, um…” The pulse fluttered at the base of her neck, her body shifting in the driver’s seat. “I don’t know, I—”
“While you decide, I’ll get started. How about that?” Kyler looked straight out the windshield toward the approaching farm, but in his mind’s eye, he saw a man standing on his family’s porch, cornfields spread out behind him. “You remember back in December when we almost lost the farm?”
She took one hand off the steering wheel and placed it over her heart. “Thank God you didn’t.”
“Yeah.” Kyler swallowed the tightness in his throat. “Coach Brooks’s girlfriend, Peggy—she’s his wife now—came up with the fundraiser to satisfy the debt we owed to the bank. Well, it turned out Peggy and Brooks dated on the sly once upon a time. And while they were in Bloomfield, he was working on getting Peggy back. Failing pretty hard at it, best I could tell.”
He laughed under his breath at the memory of his coach, living legend Elliott “Kingmaker” Brooks asking for dating advice on his porch.
“So I told him to take her to Marengo Cave.” Kyler couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “You remember when we went there?”
“I remember the bats.”
“That can’t be the only thing you remember.” Taking a chance, Kyler reached across the console and laid a hand on Bree’s thigh, groaning inwardly when the muscles twitched beneath his palm. “If I recall correctly, that was one of those times you couldn’t keep these babies from cinching up around my waist.”
With trembling fingers, Bree cranked the air conditioner, giving him an evil look when he chuckled. “I was scared of having my blood sucked out.”
“All part of my diabolical plan.” Giving her thigh one final squeeze, Kyler took his hand back. “I told my coach about you and he said something that stuck. Stuck harder than I realized at the time. ‘Imagine you have one more day to fix everything…before she never thinks about you again.’” A chill moved through him and it had nothing to do with the air conditioner. “Scared the shit out of me, Bree. Still does. I didn’t know how much until I was drafted.”
She pulled the truck to a stop outside a freshly painted barn, her hand falling limp after turning off the ignition. “There’s nothing that could stop me thinking about you. Our pasts are twined too closely together for that.”
“You could say the same about our futures.”
Her breath caught and the moment slowed down, Bree turning soft eyes on him, rain pattering on the truck’s roof. In that space of time, he saw past her defenses. Saw they were weakening. And for the first time since coming back to Bloomfield, he reckoned he might have a chance.
“Kyler.”
“I know I’m pushing, but I’m running short on time, Bree.” Instinct screamed at him to drag her into his lap, to kiss the reservations and doubts out of her mind, but now wasn’t the time. If he moved forward before she caught up, he’d ultimately lose ground, and that was out of the question.
His flight was scheduled for tomorrow afternoon.
The sound of the barn door sliding open had both of them looking out the windshield. A man who looked to be in his mid-twenties strode out through the opening, a cowboy hat shielding his head against the rain. His smile was wide when it searched out Bree in the truck, but it dimmed when he saw Kyler. Good.
“Behave yourself, Kyler Joseph, or I’ll take a bite out of you.”
“Promise?”
Color deepening on her cheeks, Bree collected her bag and climbed out of the truck, waving at the approaching fuck-face. “Hey, Mitch. How’s the patient?”
“Mitch,” Kyler snorted, then went to join them outside.
Kyler’s competitive side could be fierce when the situation called for it. During his final year at Cincinnati, he’d been one of the three team captains, putting him at centerfield for the coin toss. No matter how often football purists waxed poetic about sportsmanship, that strut down the fifty-yard line to size up the opposing team’s captains called for intimidation. Always had. While some of his teammates liked to crack their necks or bash their shoulder pads, Kyler chose to stand real still and make eye contact with each opposing player, looking for chinks in their armor. If he were the bragging sort, he’d call it damned effective.
This situation with Mitch wasn’t a competition, though. He wasn’t trying to be the bigger, more intimidating man. If he handled his jealousy by acting like a territorial dick, Bree would shut down on him faster than he could spit. So while the green monster hummed and shook inside him, begging to be appeased, Kyler forced himself to ignore it and remember one thing.
A life with him in Los Angeles was Bree’s choice. Not his. He’d laid his cards on the table, bared his feelings, and the next move belonged to her. All he could do at this point was surprise her. And God knew, he loved doing that.
“Good to meet you, Mitch. Kyler Tate.” He put his hand out. “Hope you don’t mind me tagging along to watch Bree work.”
Mitch’s eyebrows hitched up—hell, the trainer almost looked disappointed in him being friendly—but he shook with Kyler nonetheless. “No, uh…that’s fine.” He tilted his head. “Kyler Tate, you say? Why does that ring a bell?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’ll come to you.”
The trainer scrutinized him another few seconds before shrugging. “Well, let’s get out of the rain, shall we?”
Kyler gave Mitch what he hoped was a winning smile. “Great idea. Thanks.”
When the other man turned for the barn—shoulders slumped a good deal more than before—Kyler found a mixture of suspicion and amusement on Bree’s pretty face. “You see something interesting over here, supergirl?”
“When exactly am I going to get a handle on you?”
He checked the urge to throw an arm around Bree’s shoulders, draw her up against his side. “Guess we’ll have to wait and see.”
They stopped at the entrance to one of the stalls. Inside, a brown horse with patches of white lay down, muscles tense. If Kyler didn’t see it with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have believed that the mare sighed in relief when it spotted Bree. She murmured something to the animal but made no move to approach, seeming to communicate from ten feet away.
“Her name is Flo-Rida.”
He smiled “Like the rapper?”
“Yeah.” She leaned into him and pointed at the horse’s behind. “But also because she has a white patch in the shape of Florida. The owner’s teenage son named her.”
“Give that kid a medal.”
Mitch cleared his throat behind them, reminding Kyler they weren’t alone.
“Looks like you have everything under control for now,” Mitch said. “I’m heading out for a bit. Call my number if you need anything.”
Ignoring Kyler’s grumble over her speaking with another man on the phone, Bree turned to Mitch and nodded. “Will do. Thank you.”
If Kyler wasn’t mistaken, Mitch looked a little dejected over not being asked to stay, so Kyler took some pity on him. “Wait up, Mitch.” He jogged over and met the trainer at the barn entrance. “You mentioned my name ringing a bell. If that’s on account of me playing football for Cincinnati and—”
Mitch snapped his fingers. “That’s it. Hol-ee shit.” He smacked a hand against his outer thig
h. “You’re playing for the Rage next season.”
“Right.” Kyler winked over at a dumbstruck Bree, who was probably going nuts not being able to hear their conversation. “I have a line on Bearcats tickets if you’re ever up for a drive.”
A few minutes later, Kyler’s number was programmed into the trainer’s phone and Kyler had to admit, not succumbing to jealousy had been harder than evading a tackle, but twice as satisfying.
Returning to Bree at the stall entrance, he leaned down to talk beside her ear. “Aren’t you going to go in?”
She turned sparkling, excited eyes on him. “Not unless I’m needed.” The backs of their hands brushed together and Kyler’s belly tightened up like a drum. Not only because her touch never failed to have an effect, but her love for the animal, for her job, was contagious. “Foals are born naturally. They’re cleaned by their mothers afterward and the bonding process begins. I try to stay out of it, only helping if there’s a complication.”
“Does that happen a lot?” Kyler asked, just to keep her talking in that rushing, euphoric way.
“I wouldn’t say a lot. But nature needs a push once in a while.” Her excited smile stopped his breath. “That’s where I come in.”
You want to take her away from this?
Ten gallons of cement coated Kyler’s shoulders, hardening immediately. Bree was watching him closely, though, so he forced a casual demeanor. “You were right. The horse does trust you. I could see it.” A million thoughts raced in his head, but one stood out brighter than all others. “Dammit, Bree. I’m so proud of you.”
“I’m proud of you, too,” she whispered, her brows drawing together at whatever she read on his face. “Kyler?”
Who was he kidding? He’d never been able to hide anything for long from Bree. A fact he’d completely forgotten in the face of seeing how much she thrived in this environment. An environment that might as well be a million miles from Los Angeles.
She started to speak again, but the mare made a distressed sound and stood on shaky legs, sending Bree rushing into the stall.
Chapter Thirteen
Bree’s hands were steady, but her adrenaline pumped hot.
Above her, the mare made a long, guttural sound of distress. “Only one of the foal’s feet is showing,” she explained to Kyler, her voice thick. “We need to stand Flo-Rida up and walk her around. That should hopefully reposition the foal. If it doesn’t, I’ll have to do it myself.”
Without missing a beat, Kyler rubbed his hands together. “Okay. Stand her up and walk around. Let’s do this, supergirl.”
I’m still in love with him.
Freaking obviously.
Who wouldn’t love this man? Especially—God—when he loved her with so much conviction and patience and persistence. After four years of no communication. He’d signed a multimillion-dollar contract to play professional football. Fame, idolization, and freedom were at his disposal. Yet here was Kyler Tate, same exact man he’d always been—with the addition of some extra drool-worthy muscles—ready to help her deliver a foal on a rainy day in a barn. No questions asked. Because it was what she needed.
It was time, however, that she stopped denying what she needed most. That she’d never stopped needing. Kyler.
Lord knew she was a stubborn woman and always had been. Kyler was her equal in that way. They’d both spent their separation operating in unique ways. Kyler had bided his time while Bree lived in denial. Had she really believed that someday she would magically get over Kyler? What a farce. Until she took her final breath on this earth, his face would be the first she pictured when someone uttered the word love in her presence. He was her first love and down in the pit of her soul, she’d known he would be her last.
Tucking away the truth for later, Bree blew out a deep breath and stood. After unhooking the bridle from where it hung on the wall, she took care sliding it over the agitated mare’s head, whispering comfort to her as she cinched and secured it. With some urging, she led Flo-Rida toward the stall exit, Kyler holding the mare steady on the other side.
“My dad used to be in charge during foaling time. Without him here, the waiting still makes me anxious,” Bree murmured. “Talk to me about something.”
“I’m going to hook Mitch up with Bearcats tickets,” Kyler answered immediately, shhing the horse when she made a low whinny. “Despite his name being Mitch.”
A chuckle burst free of Bree’s lips. “What’s wrong with the name Mitch?”
“Nothing. It’s perfect. It’s exactly what I would name the man I had to battle for your favor.”
“But you didn’t battle him,” she pointed out.
He winked at her over the top of the mare’s head. “Didn’t I?”
Right there, less than three feet away, was the only person in the world who always managed to make her laugh, grow exasperated, and be surprised, all at the same time. “Where are you going to live in Los Angeles?”
The question slipped out without warning, but Kyler showed no reaction apart from his grip creaking on the reins. “They put us in a hotel for training camp. It gives us time to find a place to call home.” He slid her a glance. “I don’t know what this life is going to bring, Bree. I could be traded after a few years. Find myself down in Dallas or up in New York. So I figured while…we’re in California, we should live by the ocean. Someplace small that makes the change not seem so huge. Two bedrooms, a giant bathtub. A big, floppy dog sleeping on the end of our bed.”
A wrench fell in her stomach. “Low blow.”
His mouth ticked up at the corner, hope flaring in his green eyes. “I’ve had some nervous energy on my hands over the last couple days waiting for you to have a good think, so I’ve been looking at apartments.” A beat passed. “I don’t know if you still have the same plans, supergirl, but if you wanted to attend a four-year veterinary school, Western University is only a short drive away.”
“My plans haven’t changed.” The wings of fear and excitement tickled her throat, battling one another. “You looked into all that for me?”
“Made sure there was a diner within walking distance of the apartment, too. I know that’s how you like to get your coffee.”
Her knees wobbled. “Never really got into Starbucks.”
“I know.”
“Something so formal about ordering coffee off a menu,” she whispered under her breath, just to fill the charged silence. “Whipped cream on coffee doesn’t seem like it should be an everyday thing.”
They reached the wall of the barn and gently turned the mare around, Bree running a hand down her flank. “In the off-season, we could come back to Bloomfield,” Kyler continued, his tone low, bordering on urgent. “Whatever you want.”
“What about what you want?”
“I want us,” he rasped. “I’ll build everything else around that. That has been my plan since age thirteen. It just got delayed.”
“Kyler. This is crazy.” The slow pace of their walk was a stark contrast to Bree’s rapid heartbeat. The gravity that continued to consume and release her, wrecking her balance. “Can we really ever come back, though? All the attention that follows you around...” She shook her head. “Before college, it was town pride. Now it’s curiosity and people standing outside the gym or crowding you to death in Nelson’s—”
“I’ll keep it away from you.” Threads of determination stitched themselves together in Kyler’s voice. “No more dragging you out into the open, Bree. I’ve learned my lesson.”
“You can’t stop being yourself, Ky. I wouldn’t want you to stop.”
“Where does that leave me?” he whispered to himself.
Bree ached to take a leap, but impulsive decisions were never how she’d worked. Time and pro/con lists, testing the waters. That’s how she operated. Once upon a time, Kyler had been her listening ear. Her sounding board. So while she wanted desperately to leap into his arms, kiss his mouth, and agree to California, she wasn’t quite ready. Not without laying some things to re
st in her mind.
They reached the stall and Bree guided Flo-Rida back down onto the pallet, observing for long minutes while the mare labored. When she saw both legs emerge, confirming the foal had been repositioned during their walk, Bree fell back on her butt with a sigh of relief, remaining there under the false assumption her heart rate would slow now that the danger had passed. But it didn’t.
“Talk to me,” Kyler said, threading his fingers through her curls. “Tell me what’s holding you back. Tell me what you didn’t say on prom night.”
“My family needs me,” she breathed. “I belong here. In Bloomfield.”
“There’s more.”
Bree looked up to find Kyler watching her from beneath hooded eyelids, seeing straight through to her center. “I’ve never stopped aching over hurting you. It was the worst night of my life.”
“Mine, too.” Mouth in a grim line, Kyler scooped Bree up and carried her from the stall. “Talk to me.”
She shoved his shoulder, but he didn’t budge. “I’m getting there.”
Just outside the stall, he set her down, backing her up against the wooden partition. Intensity radiated from every inch of his rock-wall body. “I’ll just wait here and be patient. Sound good?”
A laugh shuddered out of her, but it held little humor. Spiked wheels turned in her belly, digging in and getting stuck. “My mother left when we needed her.” Words she’d never said out loud poured free, through the cracks of a smashed dam. “She wanted more. I’m afraid to admit I want more, too. Even to myself.”
The tension lines around Kyler’s mouth softened. “It isn’t more, Bree. It’s different.”
“It’s more. It’s California, money and fame and all the things she wanted. I’m betraying my family by accepting them, by wanting them, aren’t I?”
“I could tell you no, but you’re the one who has to believe it.”
“That’s annoyingly logical.” She dropped her forehead onto his chest. “My father would never say it out loud, but I know he feels like a failure for not making her happy. I can’t be his instant replay.”