Page 34 of Wild Eyes
“Thank you,” he replies casually before continuing with his tutorial. “After you toss it, you pop your head into the stall to make sure our horse is safe and sound and happy. Not cast up against the side or in distress or anything. And then you move on to the next one.”
“You want me to pick up the hay?”
He peers down at himself, realizing that he’s covered in dust and bits of the green feed. Between his thumb and forefinger, he pinches the fabric of his T-shirt, shakes it out a little, and wipes it off before looking back at me. “Yeah, see? Now I’m clean.Magic.”
I glance at the hay and must make a face because West adds, “Might do you good to get dirty. Don’t worry, even covered in hay, you’ll still be fancy with your diamond earrings.”
Without thinking, I reach up and feel the studs in my ears.
Andrew bought them for me for my birthday and I haven’t taken them out since. The reminder has my skin itching and my throat feeling tight.
Suddenly, I want them off my body. Urgently. They feel dirty. They makemefeel dirty.
I don’t want to be the girl who wears two-carat diamond studs. I’d rather be the girl who tosses hay without worrying about getting dust on her clothes.
West watches me with an indent between his brows as I tug the earrings out of my ears and shove them in the pocket of my sweater.
“I…was joking. You didn’t need to take them off.”
“No, I forgot I was wearing them.” I press the pad of my finger into the pointed bar of one earring. It hurts. It feels good. “Actually, do you want them?” I pull my hand back out and hold my palm up to him. “You can have them.”
West blanches. “What?”
It’s an impulsive offer and I know it. But I feel all tangled and torn. I don’t trust myself right now—hell, I don’t even know myself right now.
“I don’t know. I heard feeding horses is expensive. Or you can buy a pony for Emmy? Here, have them.” I shake my hand gently in his direction, and he eyes me like I’ve lost my mind.
After a beat, he takes a few tentative steps forward, leaving the wheelbarrow behind him. He curls his fingers around mine, forcing my palm closed and encasing the diamond studs in our hands. His voice is so sure, so kind, it almost makes me want to weep.
“Why don’t you sleep on that one? If you want to donate them to a good cause in a few days’ time, I’ll help you pick one out.”
The warmth of his touch seeps into my bones, and his eyes search mine in a way that’s full of questions. Questions he doesn’t ask. Instead, he steps away, taking the heat of his nearness with him.
It makes me want to follow him. It makes me want to chase that warmth, that comfort I feel when I’m close to him.
But I shimmy my shoulders and stand up tall before shoving the diamonds back into my pocket. Then I clear my throat and look him square in the eye. “Okay, I’m ready to toss some flakes. Let’s do this.”
He watches me for a moment, assessing me. I fear he’s going to ask one of those questions swirling in his irises. I swear I can see it sitting there on the tip of his tongue.
I’m no open book, but it seems as though all West needs to do is look at the cover to know something’s wrong. He sees past all the vibrant colors, all the shiny foiling. It’s like no matter how pretty the cover is, he knows that if he opened the book, the pages would be blank.
I can’t fool him. He sees right through me.
I realize I’m holding my breath when he finally points to one side and says, “You take left.” Then his opposite hand points the other way. “I take right.”
We spend the next several minutes working our way down the long concrete alleyway, pulling the flakes from the wheelbarrow and checking on each horse. The hay is prickly against my skin. It leaves me feeling itchy and like I can’t escape the dust that permeates my clothes or gets caught on my cardigan. Regardless, the sweet smell of the grass does something good to my nervous system—calms it.
We work in a companionable silence for the next ten minutes. Our soundtrack is the horses’ content huffing as their teeth grind on the hay and the wheelbarrow’s low hum as West rolls it farther down the alleyway.
When we get to the far side of the barn, I glance up at him, thinking he’ll dismiss me now that we’ve completed the task.
But he surprises me.
“Wanna do the outdoor paddocks with me too?” he asks with a quirk of his head.
The relief I feel is instant. Sharp. I’m thrilled he doesn’t seem in a rush to get rid of me. I’m relieved that I’m not an annoyance to him—a liability.
Otherwise, surely, he would tell me to go to bed. But he didn’t. So I press my lips together and nod, following him out into the dark on the opposite side of the barn.
