Page 42 of Wylder Ranch
“Yuck,” Max exclaims finally and runs back to the stall he’d been leaning over.
My eyes roll. “What did you tell him?”
“Nothing that isn’t true.” Miles shrugs, then turns to Haven. As he does, his expression morphs from his usual shit-stirring insolence to the broad smile I know he uses to charm women. Both are equally punchable. “Hello,Haven. Good to see you again.”
“Hey, Miles.”
“Ah, you remember I’m the better-looking one.” He winks, gesturing to his face.
It’s a joke that will never die. It’s been going since Hendricks and Miles first discovered girls, and no one could tell them apart. Something they used to their advantage many times. I only wish they’d been caught more because when they were, it was really fucking funny.
Haven points at Miles’s jacket withLord M. B. W. Burlingtonembroidered on the left breast above the Foxleigh Park logo. “It has your name on it.”
“So it does.” He laughs. “What are you two doing here anyway? I thought new parents needed to catch up on sleep.”
Haven groans, mumbling agreement under her breath.
“Came to introduce Everly to her first cows.”
“Lucky Everly.” Miles peers into the harness. “But doesn’t she need to be awake for that?”
Ignoring him, we walk down to the stall where Max has climbed in to feed apples to two donkeys. Hendricks rescued them a few weeks ago and brought them here, where they’ve been enjoying life in the warmth of a cozy stable. Max has been visiting them every day.
“Max, where’s Daddy?”
“At the surgery,” he replies, grabbing another apple, and holds his hand out flat to the closest donkey.
“Hendricks is a vet. He runs surgery hours at lunchtime, but mostly, he’s out visiting yards,” I explain when Haven looks at me in question.
In the distance, the sound of the church clock ringsout, and Miles checks his watch.
“Come on, Maxy, we need to get over to Foxleigh for your polo lesson,” he says, ruffling Max’s head.
Max shoves the remaining apple at the donkeys and jumps up. “May I ride Clover?”
“Who’s Clover?” asks Haven.
“Uncle Miles’s best polo pony. She’s really fast. Uncle Miles always scores a goal on her,” Max blurts out, turning to Miles with pleading eyes. “May I ride her? May I? May I?Pleaaaase.”
“Maybe. After your lesson, but only if you manage to stay on today.” Miles holds his hand out for Max. “See you both later.”
“’S’not my fault the saddle was slippery,” Max grumbles as Miles leads him away.
Haven watches them until they disappear around the corner and out of sight. She stays glued to the spot, that same look on her face she got before when we were talking about her ranch. Again, I want to ask what she’s thinking, but instead, I’m nudged hard in the ribs by a donkey.
“Ouch.”
The frown on her brow disappears along with whatever was going through her mind as she turns to find a donkey nibbling my sleeve and bursts out laughing. The combination is enough to wake Everly, who decides very loudly that she doesn’t want to hang out at the farm today. Or meet the cows.
In the end, because Everly’s lunch is imminent, I take one of the estate cars and drive us home so Haven can feed her in peace and the comfort of the rocking chair.
While they’re upstairs, I keep myself busy. I tidy,check my emails, make a few calls, return the car, and order lunch.
And I begin to wonder if she fell asleep with Everly when she walks into the kitchen, hair wet from a shower. Her skin’s still damp enough that the long T-shirt she’s wearing over her leggings clings enough to her body that memories of her naked almost short-circuit my brain.
It’s followed by the scent of roses and freshly cut logs wafting around her, and I have to unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth.
I slam the laptop shut.
