Love, Lies and Blood Ties: A young adult paranormal romance (Love, Lies and Ties Book 2)

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Love, Lies and Blood Ties: A young adult paranormal romance (Love, Lies and Ties Book 2) Page 1

by C. J. Laurence




  Love, Lies

  and

  Blood Ties

  By

  C.J. Laurence

  Copyright © 2020 C.J. Laurence

  www.cjlauthor.com

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Designer: LKO Designs

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  For Katie – couldn’t have done this without you!

  Chapter One

  As Luke showered, I couldn’t help but ponder over things. Last night had not ended how I expected. The fact I admitted my feelings about Marcus to myself hurt more than anything. I’d opened up the gates to hurt and emotional pain without even realising it. Now I understood why so many of my school friends spent days crying and moping around after boys.

  Except Marcus had no resemblance to a boy. He owned the word man. Yet his actions, how he lied to me, they didn’t reflect the actions of a man. Or did they? I guessed that would depend on an individual’s perspective.

  “You look deep in thought,” Luke said, making me jump.

  Standing at the window, gazing out over his land, caught up in nothing but my thoughts, I hadn’t even heard him come down the stairs. “Yeah, away with the fairies, almost.”

  “Anything you want to share?”

  I turned around and met his soft brown eyes, wonder flickering through them. “Nothing you’d want to hear.”

  He took a couple of steps towards me and then reached out, placing his hands on my upper arms. The fruity scent of oranges and pineapples circled around me making me crave something sweet to eat. His red and blue checked shirt and faded denim jeans brought images of cowboys to mind.

  “Whatever you have to say I want to hear,” he said.

  “That is such a cheesy line,” I replied, laughing.

  “A line?” He frowned. “No, Cat. That’s what friends do. Listen no matter what.”

  Friend. Right. I couldn’t ignore the pang that hit my heart when he said that word. Ultimately though, he had a point. We were friends, nothing more.

  “I keep thinking about last night. All these feelings I had…I just feel like such a fool. Why do men lie, Luke? Why?”

  A slow smile spread over his face. “I would just like to point out here that women lie just as much as men.”

  I laughed. “Stop evading the question.”

  He shrugged his shoulders and dropped his hands from my arms. “I don’t know. Personally, I can’t say I’ve ever lied to anyone.”

  “Of course you haven’t. Because you’re so perfect.”

  He grinned. “I’m glad you’ve noticed that too.”

  I folded my arms over my chest and tried my hardest not to laugh. “That’s not funny.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me and focused his attention on my mouth. “I’m sure I can see a smile trying to crack through there.”

  “Shut up,” I said, giving him a playful shove in the chest. “You’re not funny.”

  “Tell me that without smiling.”

  At that point I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I burst out laughing. “Luke, stop it!”

  “I’m not even sorry. At least you’re laughing and not moping around anymore.”

  “What happened to wanting to hear whatever I had to say?”

  “It still stands.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him.

  “Well?” he said, tilting his head to one side. “I’m waiting.”

  I found myself laughing again for some reason. “I’m going to get changed. Then you can take me out for that breakfast you promised.”

  “I didn’t promise anything. I just suggested it.”

  “Are you going to be this awkward all day?”

  He pursed his lips and said, “I haven’t decided yet.”

  Giggling to myself, I grabbed my bag of clothes and headed upstairs to change. Just as the thought of a shower crossed my mind, Luke shouted up after me, “Fresh towels in the bathroom if you want a shower.”

  I smiled to myself. Right now, I couldn’t wish for a better friend.

  ***

  “Oooo, are we going to see the horses before breakfast?” I asked, excitement running through my veins.

  Luke flashed me a smile as he guided the truck towards the stables. “You could say.”

  I frowned. “Why does that sound like code for something?”

  “Well the other way you could look at it would be we’re taking the horses to breakfast.”

  “Wait, what?”

  He laughed. “Two of them anyway.”

  I gasped. “Are we riding?”

  My voice came out so shrill and squeaky, Luke visibly cringed. “Yes,” he replied.

  “Oh my God!” I yelled, jumping up and down in my seat. “This is like the best day ever!”

  Luke chuckled and brought the truck to a stop outside the hay barn.

  I looked down at my trainers and groaned. “I can’t ride in trainers.”

  “Sure you can.”

  I shook my head. “Trust me, I’ve tried. They get jammed in the stirrups. Plus, it’s a weird feeling not having my ankles supported. It makes me feel like a complete novice again, riding in jeans and trainers.”

  “Cat, calm down. Firstly, your feet won’t get jammed in these stirrups. Secondly, you won’t need your ankles supporting. Thirdly, you know you’re not a novice so what does it matter?”

  I had so much rushing around my brain I couldn’t think of anything to say back to him. The anticipation and sheer elation of riding completely overwhelmed me. I felt like a five-year-old being told they were going to see Santa.

  “Who are we riding?” I asked.

  “I’m taking Silva, if he’s in a good mood, and I think I’m going to put you on Missy.”

  I clapped my hands together and squealed. “I’m so excited!”

  Luke raised an eyebrow and said, “Really?”

  I gave him a playful shove in the shoulder. “Stop it.”

  He grinned. “Come on, let’s get the tack and head out to the horses.”

  “We’re not bringing them to the yard?”

  “No. I never do. Besides, the route we’re taking, we need to ride through the field so it makes no sense to bring them up here to then ride them all the way back.”

  I glanced out of his window, spotting little dots on the horizon. “We’re walking the tack all the way over there?”

  He laughed. “Would you stop squealing if I said yes?”

  I grinned. “Maybe.”

  “Come on,” he said, hopping out of the truck. “Let’s get sorted.”

  My phone started ringing then. I pulled it out of my pocket and threw it in the door pocket without even looking at it. Nothing would ruin my morning of riding or put a dampener on my exceptional mood. I got out of the truck and followed Luke into a huge tack room.

  “Wow!” I said, gazing around at all the gleaming tack. “This is incredible.”

  Along the left-hand wall sat eight English saddles with eight English bridles underneath, each one had
a small brass plaque above it with the horse’s name on it. On the right-hand wall were eight western saddles with matching western bridles, again, all named by brass plaques. Along the back wall were eight driving harnesses, all named again.

  “I don’t believe in sharing tack,” Luke said, grabbing Silva’s western saddle. “It’s a very personal thing for horses. Just because they’re roughly the same build, doesn’t mean the tack is interchangeable. They need to be as comfortable as possible.”

  “I couldn’t agree more. The amount of horses I’ve seen with behavioural issues or physical problems because of ill fitting tack is really sad. It isn’t a one size fits all thing.”

  “I’m glad you agree,” he replied, grabbing Silva’s western bridle and hanging it off the horn on the western saddle. He then took Missy’s western bridle and hung that off the horn of her saddle before hitching that onto his other arm. “Ready?”

  I reached for Missy’s tack. “I can take that.”

  “I’m good, Cat. These are heavy anyway.”

  “I think I can manage a saddle, Luke.”

  He grinned. “And I think I can manage two.”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “Hats?”

  “I don’t ride with one.”

  “Ever?”

  “When I show I wear one because I have to but otherwise, no.”

  I’d ridden without a hat on a couple of occasions but generally speaking, when dealing with spirited super fit warmbloods and unpredictable temperaments, I’d never liked doing so.

  “I do have some,” he said, nodding towards a wooden box at the back of the room. “Help yourself if it makes you feel better but trust me, there’s no greater feeling of freedom than having the wind rush through your hair whilst on horseback. I wouldn’t put you in any danger, you know that.”

  I deliberated for a moment before deciding to play it safe. Whilst Luke loaded the truck up with the tack, I rifled through the brand-new looking hats and found one that fit perfectly.

  “I’d rather have it and not want it, than want it and not have it,” I said, walking back to the truck.

  “That’s fine,” he said, giving me a warm smile. “I totally understand.”

  Luke threw some haybales in the back of the truck. I made my way to the gate and opened it for him.

  “Why, thank you,” he said, as I got back in the truck after closing it behind the truck.

  “No problem.”

  “Have you ridden western before?”

  “Once,” I said. “We had a lady come to the stud with a stunning Lusitano. She competed working equitation with him in western tack. Fantastically trained horse.”

  “Spanish horses are in a league of their own. So intelligent and majestic. But I still prefer my chunks,” he said, chuckling.

  “It’d be a boring world if we all liked the same thing.”

  “Very true.”

  I watched as the horses lifted their heads one by one and started walking towards the truck. As before, they all soon broke out into faster paces as they realised their hay was here.

  “Am I right in thinking you’re leaving the truck in the field whilst we ride?”

  Luke nodded. “Yes, I do it all the time. Just makes things easier.”

  He brought the truck to a stop and switched it off. “If you lift up the back seat, there’s brushes under there.”

  I couldn’t deny being impressed. He literally thought of everything. As he distributed the hay, I investigated what lay beneath the back seats. Eight clear plastic boxes, all named of course, housed the basics of a grooming kit for each horse—hoof pick, dandy brush, body brush, mane comb, metal curry comb, and a rubber curry comb.

  Plucking out the two boxes for Silva and Missy, I put them in the back of the truck next to the tack. Missy and Silva stood on either side of the open back, munching on hay. I looked around to see Luke shaking out Maurice’s hay bed as the others tucked into their stashes.

  As he came back, I couldn’t help but ask, “How did you get these two to stay here?”

  A devilish grin spread over his handsome face. “If I told you that, I’d have to kill you.”

  I laughed. “That sounds like a secret worth dying for.”

  “Afraid not,” he said, shaking his head. “Just my excellent animal training skills.”

  “So modest.”

  “No point in being modest about something you know you’re good at.”

  I giggled and set about grooming Missy as she ate her hay.

  We fell into a comfortable silence as we readied the horses for our ride. I couldn’t help but marvel at how quiet and calm they both seemed. They munched on the hay in the back of Luke’s truck, totally relaxed, eyes all but glazed over. The warmbloods I’d worked with before would stand but they were always on alert, eyes wide, ears twitching in every direction, they were always ready to go. These guys looked like a bomb could go off next to them and they’d barely bat an eyelid.

  “Do you want to hear something cool?” Luke said, putting his brushes down in the back of the truck.

  “Always,” I replied, grinning.

  He walked around the truck to Missy and touched her halfway down her side. “Her girth, from here round—” he ran his finger down and then underneath her “—is greater than the length from her shoulder to her rear quarter.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “No. That’s not possible.”

  “I can get a tape measure if you like,” he said, grinning.

  I took a step back and looked at her. She was very short coupled, meaning her back, the area where a rider would sit, wasn’t very long. As I studied what Luke claimed, I could actually see it. Her belly was so deep, I’d never seen anything like it.

  “That’s really cool. If she were a warmblood with this conformation, she’d be a champion jumper.”

  Short backed horses were a firm favourite for jumping because it meant all their power was easily held together, they had less ‘body’ to manoeuvre which made them great for turning on a sixpence. Back home, the stud owner, Marianne, compared them to cars. Short backed horses were like hatchbacks compared to normal horses which she viewed as saloon cars.

  “You can get a mini in anywhere,” she’d said, pointing at her own red classic with pride. “It’s the same with short coupled horses.”

  I thought back to her stud and wondered what they might be doing right at this moment. A twinge of homesickness hit me like a bulldozer, the first I’d really had since I’d moved here. Then I realised it wasn’t my home anymore—this was.

  Luke chuckled, snapping me out of my thoughts. “You and your warmbloods.”

  “Hey, it’s all I know.”

  “Well, you’re about to be converted,” he said, winking. “If you sort the bridles, I’ll sort the saddles. They’re easy—no nosebands and all that nonsense.”

  I smirked but didn’t rise to his dig at typical English tack. I had a feeling deep down that these guys could probably be ridden in a headcollar but didn’t ask in case he decided we’d do just that.

  As Luke sorted Missy’s saddle, I sorted Silva’s bridle. I anticipated him sticking his head up in the air like a giraffe. At a towering seventeen hands, I’d have no chance of getting the bridle anywhere near him if he did that. A few of the horses at Marianne’s stud did that when they were feeling awkward, or didn’t want to stop eating, or just found it plain amusing.

  To my surprise, Silva actually dropped his head to the point that his poll, the space between his ears, sat just above my hip level.

  “Awww,” I said, scratching his neck. “Such a good boy.”

  “Bet your Spaniards wouldn’t do that,” Luke called out.

  I turned around and stuck my tongue out at him. “You can’t compare tanks to sports cars.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Depends if you want power or speed. I prefer good old-fashioned brawn.”

  “I think you’re just jealous you’re too big to ride a proper dressage horse.”

  “Oh really
?”

  I grinned. “Yep.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  I wondered what he meant and had a horrible feeling he was somehow going to prove me wrong. I slipped Silva’s bit in his mouth and settled the headband of the bridle behind his ears. It felt wrong that that was it—no nosebands or throatlatches to fuss over. The split reins were an oddity too.

  “So easy and simple isn’t it?” he said, the glee in his voice ever apparent.

  “The real test is what control you have,” I quipped back.

  “Ahhh,” he said, patting Missy’s neck and walking over to me. “That’s the key. It’s not about control, it’s about a partnership.”

  I thought on that for a moment. Marianne was an excellent horse woman, she had years and years of experience under her belt, but her number one rule was that the horse had to know you were in charge at all times. She was alpha, they were beta.

  “That’s…an interesting perspective.”

  “I’m guessing your posh stud didn’t train like that?”

  I shook my head. “No. It was very much treating them like children to be honest. Discipline, discipline, discipline. They step out of line and there are consequences type thing.”

  Luke raised an eyebrow.

  “Not in a cruel abusive way,” I said. “For instance we had one horse who bolted every time he was asked to canter. We had him checked out by the vet, physio, dentist, farrier, the lot. Physically, he was in top form. The first time Marianne rode him, after getting the all clear, she asked for a canter and true to form, he bolted.”

  Luke winced. “What did she do?”

  “She let him run. She sat there as cool as a cucumber as he hurtled around the school at breakneck speed. When he started to slow down, she pushed him on. You could literally see the confusion in his eyes and that he was thinking this is weird. Every time he tried to slow up, she pushed him on again and again. When he finally stumbled from tiredness, she allowed him to stop. He never did it again.”

  Luke grimaced. “I see the thinking process behind it, but the main thing people forget about horses is that they’re a flight animal. That means they’re reactive. He behaved that way for a reason. He wasn’t born thinking ‘whenever someone asks for canter I’m going to bolt’. Something triggered him to behave that way. Whatever trauma caused that is still in him, it’s just been forced to the back of his mind.”

 

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