Page 27 of Maverick
Of course, that was the old me. Trailer park me.
I take a deep breath and sit there staring at Stella’s trailer, and I try to tell myself that this is purely about Frank. Because I have felt so much guilt over my inability to get that horse where I know he can go. At first, I just figured that had to die with Sadie.
That her dreams for him were over. But then… I just can’t do it. I can’t leave him there languishing, which is why I’ve had someone working with him for a while, but Sadie always knew that we had to find a rider who was highly skilled. Sadie wasgood, but she didn’t even think that it was her. She didn’t think she was Olympics-bound. She was more passionate about horses than she was about her own riding. So maybe Stella would’ve always been the one. Except…
If Sadie were alive, we’d have kids by now. I would’ve quit the rodeo, even though I hadn’t won. I’d be home, living a whole different life.
Instead, I live by myself.
I want to believe that there’s no nefarious reason that I want Stella for this.
That it isn’t just because being near her makes me feel something. Something that was otherwise long gone.
That’s okay, right? That I just want to feel it. That attraction. Desire. It’s like watching someone drink and imagining the alcohol sitting on my tongue. Like getting a contact high from someone smoking a joint nearby. It feels like enough. And I’m not sure that I should feel guilty about it. Or maybe I should, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop.
Complicated. It’s too fucking complicated, and here I am.
I get out of the truck, both cups of coffee in hand, and make my way up to her trailer door. I knock with my elbow, and she jerks it open, wearing that waffle print shirt she was wearing the other morning, no bra underneath.
My eyes go straight to her nipples. But hell, they’re at eye level, because she’s up in the trailer, and I am just a man.
That makes me want to laugh. Because I haven’t felt like just a man in a long fucking time.
Mainly, I feel like a shell wandering around, like a ghost that can’t reach the life intended for him. I didn’t die that day, but in many ways I did.
All the possibilities, all the things I should’ve had, gone.
And so, much like a ghost, I might as well not be here. I might as well exist on a plane where I can’t touch anything, andnothing can touch me, because that’s how it feels most of the time.
But right now I’m staring at her tits, and I feel a whole lot more than I have for a long time.
I force myself to look up at her face. “Morning.”
“Yeah. Good morning.”
“You need help with anything?”
She shakes her head. “No. I just need to get Cloud Dancing loaded up, and get the trailer hitched to the truck.”
“You got it?”
She snorts. “Yes. I’ve been driving a horse trailer since I was sixteen.”
“Of course you have.”
“I need to get dressed.”
I wish she wouldn’t. I like what she’s wearing just fine.
“Can I get your horse for you while you do that?”
“If you really want to.” I do, mainly because I want to get the show on the road.
“I’ve got him,” I say.
I meander down to the stall with her name on it, and grab a lead rope, clipping it to the horse’s halter as I open up the door, and then take him out. “Come on. We’ve got a bit of the journey ahead. Though maybe not as long as the one you might’ve had.”
I realize I don’t know exactly where she lives at the moment. Something else I’ll have to ask her, I suppose. Or I don’t. Because it’s not like I have to know her to work with her. Or to enjoy the shape of her breasts.
