Page 199 of The Wild Charge

The tension slowly unwound, and they spent the rest of the drive chatting about horses: sticky lead changes, and a swollen hock, and a change in diet for a lazy Friesian she wasn’t quite sure what to do with. It lulled him into a false sense of calm, one so deep that it was only once they were turning in at the brick gateposts that he realized she’d driven them to Briar Hall, rather than the clubhouse.

He hitched up straighter in his seat, and Emmie said, “I can take you to the clubhouse if you want, but do you really wanna deal with Boomer and Deacon, and whatever crap they’ve got going on over there?”

She made an excellent point.

But she also parked in front of the barn, rather than driving on up to the house.

Reese sat up in the back seat with a yawn. “This is…” he started, rubbing one eye with the heel of his hand.

“The barn, I know, I know,” Emmie said, killing the engine and popping her door. “But come see. I won’t make you sleep in a stall – mostly because I don’t have an empty one.” The last she said with a laugh as she climbed down out of the cab to greet the dog that came out wagging and smiling to meet her.

Belatedly, Tenny remembered the loft apartment, and then was warmed, faintly, by the memory of what he’d done there the last time he was over here.

He hurried out to help Reese get down from the backseat.

“I didn’t break my legs,” Reese complained, with a pout that was, genuinely, cuter than it should have been.

“No, but you got stabbed in one, so maybe take the help and stop whinging all the time.”

“Whinging?” His brow wrinkled, also cutely. “Don’t you meanwhining?”

“Which one of us speaks the Queen’s English?”

“I don’t have a queen. I don’t believe in monarchies.”

“You don’t know what a monarchy is, you stupid tit,” Tenny said, amiably, as he hooked an arm around his waist and steered him through the open barn doors. He caught a flash of clogs as Emmie disappeared up the stairs to the flat above.

Despite his assertion that he didn’t need help, Reese was pink-faced, breathing hard, and favoring his bum leg by the time they reached the landing. Worrying over him, Tenny didn’t realize anything about the loft had changed until he saw Reese’s eyes widen.

Then he turned his head and…

Oh.

The double bed was still tucked under the skylight, but it was no longer a bare mattress. Now, it was draped in a thick plaid comforter, the head heaped with pillows in dark blue cases. There was a sofa along the stretch of wall beside it, facing a flat-screen TV attached to the opposite wall. In the near corner, two chairs, mismatched and obviously used, but in good nick regardless. He spotted a bookshelf, and two nightstands with lamps, and several overlapping rugs in blue and cream and dark red floral patterns. The space smelled faintly of horses, but mostly of butterscotch, which was down to the candles burning on the small, two-person café table over at the kitchenette, he figured.

It looked like someone’s home.

Going by the way Emmie was smiling at him, arms spread in a silenttad-da!,he figured it was supposed to betheirhome. And he…didn’t know how to process that.

“Bathroom’s fully-stocked, and so’s the fridge, but feel free to move or rearrange anything you don’t like. You won’t hurt my feelings.” She started for the top of the stairs. “I usually do night check around eleven, so if you hear anything downstairs, assume it’s me and don’t come down guns blazing, okay?”

She paused as she passed them, and rested the fingertips of one hand lightly on Tenny’s free arm. Smiled up at him in a knowing way that left him feeling flayed bare; it was an effort not to flinch or turn away, to keep himself tightly locked-down, the way he’d been since he found Reese dangling from a hook in the ceiling. “Welcome home,” she said, and left.

~*~

“…Fox. Fox.Charlie.”

Oh shit, he’d fallen asleep.

Fox jerked upright and blinked his eyes clear to find Ghost giving him areally?look from the other side of the desk. It took him a too-long beat to remember having Shane drive him to the clubhouse, accepting a drink from Deacon, and coming back here to Ghost’s office for an impromptu debriefing.

“Sorry. What was I saying?”

“Nothing,” Ghost said. “In fact, you were drooling a little.”

Fox frowned and wiped his mouth with the back of his good hand.

“Go home,” Ghost said. “We can do this tomorrow.”

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