Page 9 of Wild Horses

“Hey, folks, we’re closing.” The staff member in her crisp polo looks at us expectantly.

War rises, and I stare a little too long at the water sluicing down his torso. His hand reaching for mine breaks me out of my stupor. He helps me out of the hot tub and snags a towel, gently wrapping it around my shoulders. Leaning forward, his lips graze my ear. “I’m a problem solver, Laramie, and learning more about you is on my list now.”

I gulp, tingles of desire coursing through me.

With a knowing smirk, War winks. “See you Thursday, Trouble.”

CHAPTER FOUR

war

I fiddle with my watch, the large rose-gold cage glinting as I triple-check the time. Since starting physical therapy, I’ve never been in a hurry to get there. Today, though, a current of urgency spurs me forward that has nothing to do with the brisk December air. It’s funny how something as simple as meeting a beautiful woman can change your perspective. Knowing I’ll see Laramie today—and hopefully learn more about her—is an unexpected bright spot.

She waltzed into Dr. Panter’s office like she owned the place, a natural swagger to her steps that captured my attention. We spent that entire first session staring at each other across the room, and even though we didn’t speak, it was the best foreplay I’ve had in a long while—to the point I had to take matters into my own hands when I got home. I didn’t even know her name then, but the idea of that lithe body riding mine is an image I still can’t shake.

Then, at our next shared session, I got to talk with her. Her husky drawl drew me in, as did her colorful language. Who knew someone cussing out a dumbbell could be adorable? Ifound myself lying for her and wanting to help her when she was hurting. When I walked into the aquatic therapy room and found her below the water’s surface in the hot tub, a surge of protectiveness and panic flared in me. Maybe standing up for Tuesday awoke some long-dormant instincts, but everything in me screamed to grab her and make sure she was okay.

There’s a magnetic force around Laramie, and it’s put me on a trajectory straight into her orbit.

It’s not like I haven’t dated over the years, but most of those were orchestrated interactions withsocially acceptablewomen brought forth by my parents and their equally shallow friends. I’ve never had an immediate, instant attraction to another person like what I feel now. Everything about Laramie calls to me, despite knowing nothing about her.

Hell, maybe that’swhyshe appeals to me. She’s an unknown. Not a polished Pilates princess or a spoiled debutante hand-picked by my parents for her background and status. There’s something inherently untamed about her, something wild. Something that demands I let it pull me along.

Shaking my head, I dismiss my thoughts. This is stress and lust talking. It’s been way too long since I got laid. Nothing more. I pick up my pace, wanting to make sure I get to PT on time—for my health and no other reason—when my phone buzzes.

Tuesday

Heads up. Mom and Dad have been calling my lawyers around the clock. Making some pretty big threats.

I stop in the middle of the sidewalk, grunting out an apology to the man who crashes into my shoulder. Aggravation coils with physical pain as I reread my sister’s text. Ihurriedly pull up all my documentation, confirming everything, before replying.

Davis Designs is safe. The new contract is bulletproof. You don’t need to worry.

But do you?

All it takes are three words to remind me of the difference between Tuesday and myself. Her concern for me comes through despite my not having done enough to earn it.

My phone rings, and my father’s information pops up on the screen. My muscle memory goes to answer until my newfound spine has me swiping ignore.

I’m not worried. No matter what happens. I did the right thing.

For once

Tuesday hearts my message, and I grant myself a smile. I’ll take that little digital heart. It’s another brick in the relationship we’re slowly rebuilding. We’ve texted more over the past few days than we have in years. Me, assuring her everything is going to plan here in Dallas. Her, sharing small, superficial snippets of her life in New Mexico.

My grin grows thinking of the pictures she sent yesterday of herself and her friends eating massive croissants drizzled with honey in a cute bakery.I bet Laramie likes croissants. And honey…My phone rings again, pulling me from the image of licking crumbs off a certain brunette’s lips.

Fuck.It’s Dad again. The twinge in my shoulder, the cold, and now phone calls from my father. None of these things are helping my mood.

I answer the phone in a clipped but professional tone, theone I’ve perfected over the years. “Hello, Father. How are you?” I’m still on the street, a block from Dr. Panter’s office, but I want this conversation done before I get there.

The chilly December wind howling between the Dallas skyscrapers has nothing on the ice in my father’s voice. “I warned you what would happen if you followed through with helping your sister. Did you think I was joking?”

Huffing, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “No, and you’ve made it clear every day since. Do you have something new to say, or are you just going to bark the same toothless threats each time we speak?”

“Watch yourself, Warren. I’m still the majority shareholder of this company. The companyIbuilt. One call to HR and you’re out. Your job is on the line as it is.”

My job.Vice President of Business Development. Aka, my father’s second banana, overseeing the securing of new contracts and client relationships and perceptions. Perceptions. They are all that matter to him. And for so long, they were all that mattered to me, too. For the hundredth time since sending Tuesday to Trail Creek, I wonder why.

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