Page 59 of Freeing the Wild
Cassie
“And I hit Dusty right in the head.Knocked his cowboy hat off into the snow.He was pissed.”Haden chuckles, telling me how he and Colin snowball-bombed Dusty today.He sets his glass down on the table between us to warm his hands by rubbing them together.
“Bunch of five-year-olds out there working for Silver Pines,” I comment, wiggling my toes in my boots.It is cold out here.Damn cold, but I’m not ready to go in yet.I like this side of Haden.The one that is open, funny and light.
“I don’t remember the last time I had a snowball fight,” I say staring off into the trees.
“Oh really?”he asks, mischief lining his face.
“That is not an invitation,” I say.“I’m already cold enough.”
I swallow down some bourbon in an attempt to get the warmth pumping through my blood.
“Tell me something real, Haden,” I ask.
“Something real?”
“Yeah, something no one else knows about you.”
Haden leans back in his chair as he thinks for a minute.“I like animals better than people,” he eventually offers with a grin.
“In general?”
“Yep,” he answers.“I’ll take a horse over a person any day of the week.”
“Why do you think that is?”I ask, tapping my pen on my notebook.
Haden starts to laugh.“This therapy you’re doing is rubbing off on you.You look like you’re about to analyze me.”
“Maybe I am.”I retort, taking another sip.
“For me, animals are easy creatures to relate to.Always have been.They don’t lie to me, I don’t lie to them.They have simple needs: food, water, affection.With animals, there are no games.But people?Not so much.”
He pours a little more bourbon in his glass.“People let you down every chance they get.”
“I’m sorry,” I offer, our eyes connecting.What he’s saying makes sense in relation to his parents.A pang of grief for him washes over me.I lost my dad just like Haden lost his mom.But, in some ways, he had it worse.Because I know my dad loved me.All Haden was left with when his mom went away was questions.And unanswered ones at that.
“Be right back,” he says now, cutting the tension in the air.He disappears into my cabin for a few minutes and then returns with an outdoor space heater.
“You knew I had that the whole time and you’re just now bringing it out?”I ask in mock shock.
“Can’t hack a little cold?”he jokes, plugging it in and angling it toward my toes.
“No,” I admit “I need warmth to work my magic.”
“Is that what’s in the notebook?”Haden asks, holding his hands out in front of the heater.“Songs and musings by Cassie Spencer.Songs about ranch hands she met on her travels.”
“When I was a kid, I used to number them,” I say.“Cassandra Quinn Spencer, Music Book One.”
“What number are you on now, Cassandra Quinn?”His voice is low, and my full name on his lips turns my insides to fire unexpectedly.
“I couldn’t tell you if I tried.Number one fifty maybe,” I joke, putting my feet in front of the heater.Secretly I’m glad he brought it out.I wasn’t ready to go in yet.It’s too peaceful out here, and I’m enjoying his company too much and feeling warmer by the second.
“Better?”he asks.
“Much.”I nod and sip my drink, taking in the way his sweatpants cling to his strong legs and the thick flannel coat with the hood up to keep him warm.His hair is dishevelled, and all I want to do right now is crawl inside his coat and breathe him in while he wraps those powerful arms around me.
“You never answered my question.”Haden nods to my closed notebook.“Are you writing more songs about me in there?”
