Page 83 of Demons

I nodded. Whatever it was that was driving him to need this, I would go along with it. I wasn’t letting the Zephyr thing go. We would talk about it. But first, he had to fight whatever demon was currently in his head.

Storm stepped out of the stables as Thatcher walked around the front of the truck. He glanced from Thatcher to me and laughed, shaking his head before sticking a cigarette in his mouth and lighting it up. The driver’s door opened, and I turned my attention to Thatcher as he climbed inside.

“Are you gonna tell me what this was all about?” I asked him as he backed up his truck.

He shot me a look before glaring out the front window as he headed toward the main house. I didn’t want to go there. I knew he had his own house, but I wasn’t sure where it was. The Shephards’ mansion was beautiful, but it was too big. Too formal. I couldn’t imagine having grown up in something like that. My parents had been a lot to deal with, and they had their faults, but our home had been warm, cozy, lived in.

“It’s dangerous,” Thatcher said.

I swung my gaze back to look at him. “Dangerous? What is?”

“You riding Zephyr at that kind of speed.”

I shook my head. “He wanted to go that fast. I didn’t push him to open up like that. I would never force him to hit a speed that would hurt him. He’s a racehorse. I—”

“NOT the fucking horse, Capri! YOU! It is dangerous for you!” he shouted, his hand slamming against the steering wheel, causing me to jump. He sucked in a deep, raspy breath. “I’d never have let you on him if I thought he’d hit that speed. I knew he was fast. He was bred to be a winner. But …” He shook his head. “You can’t ride him. I can’t handle it.”

I dropped my gaze to my hands clasped together tightly in my lap. I was a jockey. That was what I did. I rode fast horses. Sure, I’d never been on one that could get that kind of time, but in my line of work, that was a huge deal. I would make a name for myself. I would leave a mark. People would know who I was. Carmen hadn’t been able to make Zephyr make that time. But I had.

“He’s big. Bigger than Bloodline. Add that to his speed, and I can’t allow you to race him.” He wasn’t shouting anymore. His voice sounded pained. “Just knowing you were on him at that speed, and I wasn’t there … if something had happened …”

I started to point out that something could happen on any horse. Racing one wasn’t considered a safe sport. People were injured, among other things. He knew this, though I was afraid making my point wouldn’t help my situation. It could make it worse.

Lifting my gaze from my lap to the window, I saw we weren’t headed to the big house now. We were on another road. I glanced in the rearview mirror to see the Shephards’ mansion in the distance. We’d gone past it. Thatcher had a house on the property. I wondered if Sebastian did too.

Not that this was important. Right now, I had a man who could literally end my career. His father had given me a chance to make it in the racing world, and Thatcher might take it away. I wanted to be furious at him and be able to yell. Scream even. But I lacked the drive to do it. The truth was, as frustrated as I was with Thatcher at the moment, I wanted to comfort him. Reassure him. When a man showed no emotion for so long and then you started to see glimpses of it, when he showed you his soul when no one else got a glimpse, it was powerful.

Being a jockey was my dream. I wanted it.

But being the one to reach Thatcher’s darkness was more important. He wasn’t taking racing away from me. Just this one race. This one horse. Sure, I could set records on tracks with him, and thinking about not getting a chance did twist my gut, but I was in love with Thatcher. I knew without a doubt that I was now. I wanted his peace more than I wanted my dream. If he needed to feel as if he were keeping me safe, then I would let him.

I had no idea where this was headed with us or how long I’d keep his attention. Right now, I felt really damn important to him, but would it last? Would he still screw other women? I didn’t think I could handle that. I had to address it with him, but today didn’t seem to be that day.

We’d been through a lot, and I wouldn’t push him.

The tree line opened up ahead of us.

A white stone or brick—I couldn’t be sure—home that sat in the clearing wasn’t what I had expected Thatcher to live in. It was larger than any one man needed. It was larger than any family of five needed. Tall windows that arched rather than being rectangular lined the front of the home. A small balcony sat over the two front doors that also rounded at the top. The wide front porch was low to the ground with only three equally wide steps that led up to it. Flickering gas-flamed lights were on the columns at the top of those steps. There were two large white oak trees that framed the house on each side with what I believed was called a sweet gum tree in the front of the left side of the home.

“Home,” he said as he pulled around the back side of the house.

The door to a five-car garage that couldn’t be seen from the front opened, and he pulled inside. There were other cars here. This was the only truck. I glanced down the line of them, then back to him. His sole attention was on me. I could see the need for my approval. Again, something I’d never expected from Thatcher.

“This … is your house? You live here alone?”

He nodded.

I let out a small, surprised laugh. “Thatcher, this house is stunning. I …” I shook my head in disbelief. “I never imagined this was what you lived in.”

The corner of his lips quirked. “What did you expect?”

I shrugged. I didn’t know. But not this. “I hadn’t thought about it that hard. I just didn’t think you lived in a house that could be on HGTV’s Million Dollar Homes.”

He frowned. “I have no idea what that is.”

I laughed. “Of course you don’t.” Then, I reached for the handle on my door to get out.

“You’ll stay here then?” He said the words almost as if he were asking.

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