Page 112 of Wild Eyes
He’s a no-nonsense kind of guy. Works hard and goes home to his family. I tried making conversation with him once and it fell flat, so I stick to polite greetings now.
Soon he’s gone, and it’s just me and West and the flashy horse in the ring. I don’t know how long I watch them, but West never stops talking to her as he follows her lead around the ring. The muscles in his arms flex as he grips the reins, and as shespins in circles and dances around him, he remains unruffled. Her eyes and her closest ear flick in his direction a little more frequently, as though she’s deciding if he’s really so bad.
After a while, she turns her entire head toward him and sniffs, taking him in like it’s the first deep breath she’s allowed herself.
“There you go, sweetheart,” he says in a gentle voice, and I bite down on my bottom lip.
Watching him with the horses has become a favorite daily treat. First, he looks fucking killer in jeans and a T-shirt. Second, he says things likethat. Third, he’s amazing at this. I know little about horses, but I don’t need to know much to see it. The way he talks to them, touches them. He respects them.
He’s incredibly capable. And fuck, that’s hot.
I cross my legs as I watch him lead the filly around the ring, explaining the farm to her in dulcet tones as though she were a human. “Just over there is my house.”
He points at it as he walks her into the corner and lets her sniff every inch of the place. The step stool. The poles stacked near the end.
I can see the anxiety loosen around her. She’s still tense, but she’s warming up to West. When she sniffs the scuffed end of his boot, her lips wiggle against it softly. He runs his hand over her neck, over her shoulder, and back up.
“There she goes, huh? All right, pretty girl. You did good today.”
He turns to lead her out of the ring, and I can’t keep myself from asking as he walks past, “That’s it? You’re not going to ride her?”
West’s eyes flash up to mine, then back to the filly. “Nah, she’s not ready. Doesn’t trust me.” He grins at me. “But she will. And I’m in no rush.”
He leaves me sitting here, slack-jawed. I know we were talking about the horse, but I can’t help but feel a kinship with her somehow. I was a nervous wreck when I got here too. And West soothed me. Never pushed me too far. Always made me feel better about myself, never worse.
God, he’s treated me with such love.
It makes my heart race.
It makes my heart ache.
It makes my heart a little more his than it already was.
CHAPTER THIRTY
WEST
It’s becomepart of our rhythm over the last few days to do night check together. We work in tandem, her humming an unfamiliar tune softly as she stands on her tippy toes to peek into every stall and me trying not to track her every motion like a man obsessed.
Because I am.
But I’m not sure I want to be. Falling for someone who’s only going to be here for what amounts to a blink of an eye seems like a reckless thing to do.
We both know it. And yet, we don’t acknowledge it. Hell, I even told her I believe everything will be okay. But over the past few days, a sense of dread has set in. Like I can say that all I want, but it doesn’t change the reality of our situation. I can’t manifest everythinginto existence.
We play house with our blinders firmly in place. I can’t decide if what I’m doing feels like a leap of faith or if I’m just setting myself up for heartbreak down the line.
She’ll record here, and then she’ll be gone. She’ll tour, and she’ll be carted around, appearing on daytime television firstthing in the morning before attending high-brow promotional events at night.
And I’ll be here. Breaking horses and looking after my kids. Mia and I agreed we’d never leave while the kids were still small. That we wanted a simple life for them here.
And I still think that’s best. But the weight of knowing we’re not set up to make it is heavy because I’ll be the one who ends up alone again.
It agitates me to feel like I have found someone who fits me so perfectly and to know I can’t keep her—not really. Not the way I want.
I stew on it as we complete the chores. After I flick the lights off and pull the sliding barn doors shut, she slips her hand into mine.
It’s as we walk past the arena that she unlinks her fingers and moves toward the sand ring. Instead of stopping at the fence line, she dips between the boards and steps onto the other side. Overhead lights cast a gentle glow, and I watch her body sway as she marches into the middle.
