Impulsion

  “How’s that going to solve anything?” Camille protested. For Wyatt’s entire life, they had instilled both sides of the business into him; he had to understand it to carry on the family legacy one day, but unlike Truman, Wyatt had a passion for the jumper world, too. Camille thought this deal would kill that passion more so than what this tragic division had done.

  “You gotta let ‘em run, Momma. We’re holding him back, which is making him think there is something out there he’s missing. If he goes on this circuit, he’ll have freedom, he’ll ride, he’ll get it all out of his system.”

  “We’re teaching him to run.”

  “No, we’re teaching him that he can’t outrun it. We’re teaching him to fight harder and think clearer next go ‘round.”

  “Fight harder? He’s done nothing but rebel.”

  “And he’s rebelled without thought. He’ll learn to think. He needs space. That boy is not going to manage this empire of ours if we don’t do this. He has to leave. He has to get some life under his belt. Right now, he sees this farm as a prison. Give him a good year or so on the road, and it will be home again.”

  When she didn’t say anything, he went on. “Look, Lucas raised Memphis on the track, took that boy from city to city, showed him the wild side of life - and look how that worked out. Memphis is the only one of the three of ‘em that doesn’t have a wandering spirit. He’s grounded because he knows what’s out there, he knows where home is. This is gonna help Easton. You know I told his daddy I would watch after him. It’s gonna help Wyatt. Everyone gets what they need out of this.”

  “He needs an education, Beckett.”

  “Does he?” Beckett said with a raised brow. He and his wife came from far different backgrounds. Beckett’s education came from the land he was raised on, the family that raised him, the life he was born into. It wasn’t the same for Camille; not even close.

  When Camille looked down, when the ghost of the barriers they had broken down decades before made itself known, he lifted her chin, smiled slightly. “He’s going to get one. Duke has set Brant up on some kind of online education. He has it outlined where the boys will make it to UT for the classes they can’t get online. The deal I’m putting before Wyatt and Easton, with Cindy backing me, is they get this freedom, they get paid good money, but all of it leaves the second their grades fall. They are going to have to figure out how to manage it all.”

  Camille hated to admit it, simply because she didn’t want Wyatt to leave Willowhaven for any extended period, but he had a point. Wyatt was brilliant. The boy had yet to make it to a full day of school his senior year but still managed to carry a 3.8 GPA. The only classes he never skipped were the ones that were already giving him college credit.

  This circuit had discipline and responsibility, no doubt, but he could be hurt; one bad ride, and that could be it. If that weren’t bad enough, she knew in every field there was a wild side. There was no telling what kind of hell he and Easton could raise or what trouble they could get into.

  There was no doubt, though, that if they didn’t do something, Wyatt was going to throw his legacy away, simply because the heaven of Willowhaven had turned into a hell for him.

  Right then, truck lights came down the drive.

  “They are heading out the day they graduate. I’m sending him with my rig. We just got to get him through the next week and a half.”

  Camille wanted to go to Wyatt right then, pull him in her arms, do something to take away the pain she could feel from where she stood, but instead she nodded for Beckett to go, for him to take care of their son, make a man out of him.

  Wyatt had never been away from her for more than a few days’ time. This was going to kill her, but she trusted Beckett, knew without a doubt that though her husband seemed carefree to most, he had a deep reverence, never came to a decision lightly, and whatever his solution was, it was meant to solve more than one issue.

  ***

  Wyatt and Easton had graduated that morning; the rig with their living quarters was packed. The bulls were loaded on another trailer that Wyatt’s uncle Duke would pull. Wyatt’s cousin Brant was pulling another trailer with his camper. It was an entourage, an escape that Wyatt could not believe was offered to him. He was given the freedom and means to escape to places that there was no chance Harley’s memory could touch. His best friend was at his side, and he had a chance to make real money, a chance to get his degree in business, his mother’s only demand about this adventure.

  It was one that he would grant. He’d already picked up summer classes just to prove to her that at the very least, he would bring that degree home to her.

  “I’m going to have to bleach this entire apartment when I get back,” Wyatt said under his breath as he watched Dorcas move her things into his apartment.

  His kid sister, who was looking less like a kid every day, smiled up at him. “Just make sure you come back in one piece.”

  She was the one that had asked her mom if Dorcas could stay in the apartment. Apparently, Dorcas’ parents were going through a divorce, and it was hard at home. Camille’s agreement was that Dorcas worked off her board. She was also told that no matter when it happened, if Wyatt chose to come home she had to leave the apartment so he and Easton could move in again.

  Wyatt pulled Ava to him, gave her a deep hug. “Stay out of trouble. Away from assholes. Anyone gives you hell, you tell Truman; he’ll have your back.”

  Ava’s eyes started to water, but she nodded. Wyatt picked up his bags and made his way down the stairs, hoping his mother would be there to see them off. He could tell this was not her idea, that she was worried. Anytime anything bothered her, she kept her distance, and she had done just that recently.

  She never even acknowledged what he had seen when he went to find Harley. He wanted her to, he wanted her to tell him that he saw it wrong, to explain a woman’s mind to him somehow, but she didn’t - which all but destroyed any hope Wyatt might have had that his anger had stripped him from seeing the obvious. This wild adventure before him was his only hope to get his life back on track.

  Chapter Eight

  Harley didn’t think it was possible for her body to cry another tear, not after that first month away from Wyatt. Not after waking up every single night from a vivid dream of him, the kind where she could smell the leather, the earth, the mix of spices, where she could hear his voice, hear him tell her, “You’re safe.”

  Her father didn’t speak a word to her for weeks after she left Willowhaven. Her mother did; from the moment Harley boarded the plane home to New York, her mother began to recite her ultimate threat, the threat that said that if Harley dared to speak to Wyatt or any Doran again, she would not only ensure that every horseman with any class saw them as worthless trash, but also sue them for everything and anything under the sun, with the sole purpose of bankrupting them. She even swore to Harley that if she pushed hard enough, she would find a way to prosecute Wyatt for something.

  Harley was sure her father had heard some, if not all, of that threat, and he never bothered to rebut it. The first word he said to her was ‘Hi,’ in a raspy tone, and that was in the ICU; he’d had a heart attack. Harley blamed herself for it, thought the stress of what she’d put him through caused it. Her mother was sure to back up that point with every glare, every sly comment.

  Months later, he still wasn’t well enough to travel. Harley tried to use that as an excuse not to have her birthday celebration states away, but he had told her that she deserved the party her mother had planned for her, even if it was wrapped around some political charity event.

  Harley masked a trained smile, played the part her mother wanted her to, knowing the threat of how brutally she could destroy the life of the only people that made her feel normal was still in the air, that the risk of her father enduring any ounce of stress could be fatal.

  Her mother had placed her with a cunning chaperone, an advanced business law student. Collin Grant. If Harley had a friend her age in this worl
d, it was him. Collin saw the scam, the stage their mothers stood on, the one they wanted them to stand on.

  In public, he played his part to perfection. He looked like he was born for that life, but the thing was that it was a joke to him, literally. Anytime he had been Harley’s escort in the past, as they walked in any room, under his breath he sounded like a radio announcer calling the plays, making fun of the skeletons in everyone’s closet that they all thought were secret, what plastic surgeries they had, who they were sleeping with, who was really broke, you name it. His banter would always bring forth a natural smile to Harley, make her relax a little, help her get through whatever her mother was forcing her to attend.

  Collin and Harley’s fathers were old friends, so in a way they had grown up side-by-side, even had a few vacations together. There was nothing between them but friendship.

  When she laid eyes on Wyatt, when she saw him move across the lobby, every tense muscle in her body relaxed and managed to swim with adrenaline at the same time. She felt herself breathe, the nightmare of the last few months fading; she would have sworn she felt the Earth move.

  She was frozen in place, registering the events seconds after they happened. Harley barely caught the brush off comment her mother gave to Collin about how Harley had met more than a few people at all of her charity events, how it was dangerous to care so much but her Harley was a brave one.

  Upstairs, once Harley made it to her room she rushed to her window, looking in every direction for Wyatt. She couldn’t see a thing, the wide balcony shielded most of the parking lot, and what she could see was too far away to distinguish.

  Her mother came charging in her room, jerked the drapes closed and moved an inch from her daughter’s face.

  “You almost killed your father the last time you ran off with that boy. What do you think is going to happen if you develop some kind of backbone and decide to chase that trash now?”

  Harley stood frozen. For one of the first times in her life, she felt rage began to boil to the top of her emotions - and it was because she realized that she had let this woman make her weak.

  Right then, before she could say a word she heard, “Oh, Mrs. Tatum, I apologize. You have caught me and my misguided intentions.”

  Harley followed her mother’s stare to the doorway. Collin was standing there with a bottle of wine, two glasses. Like it was never there, the cold fury left her mother’s expression and a warm, sweet smile emerged.

  “And what intentions are those, Mr. Grant?”

  Collin, who was just over six-foot, a lacrosse player, well built, dark hair and bright hazel eyes, smiled warmly. “I just wanted to steal a private moment with the ravishing birthday girl; everyone kept stealing her attention downstairs.” He looked down at his hands, let a somewhat guilty expression come to his visage. “Of course, I suppose the late hour and wine made that a bad idea. My mother would be ashamed.”

  Harley’s mother let out a hackle of a laugh, the one she always used in public. She walked right over to him, reached up and cupped his face in her hand. “No, my dear. I believe she would be charmed, for you are your father made over.” She glanced back at Harley. “Happy Birthday, sweetheart.” Just to act somewhat like a mother, Claire took the bottle of wine away from Collin, shaking her head. “You may be old enough for this, but she still has three years.” She smiled at him and sighed. “I’m simply exhausted. We have breakfast with your mother in the morning. Don’t stay up too much longer.”

  Collin shut the door to Harley’s suite, held up his hand, and listened to the other side of it.

  He mouthed the words. “Standing right there,” as he pointed to the closed door. Then aloud he said, “I believe that was a birthday celebration to be remembered. Your mother has a gift when it comes to event planning, always brings the best people together.”

  He waved his hand toward her, telling Harley to say her line. And she did. “She does. I felt like a princess. Having you there made it a night that I could never forget.”

  “Me?” he asked with a grin, even stepping closer to Harley.

  “You always make me feel like a princess, Collin. I couldn’t wait to see you tonight.”

  “You have stolen my breath, Miss Tatum,” he said as he moved to the entertainment system in the front room. He turned the music up, then motioned for her to move back into the bedroom, far away from where Harley’s mother could hear them.

  “What crawled up her ass? What’s with that guy?” he asked Harley in a hushed voice.

  Harley was digging in her bag, looking for some kind of comfort clothes, jeans, something. The best she could come up with was black leggings and a top that reached her thighs. She rushed into the bathroom. Collin leaned against the door that was barely open, not looking in, but out.

  “That’s Wyatt.”

  “The horseman?”

  That’s why she liked Collin, called him a friend; he gave everyone a proper title.

  Harley had breathed a yes as she struggled to get out of her dress, even cussing. Collin opened the door, motioned for her to turn, unclasped the top and moved the zipper down, then went back to his post by the bathroom door. “Was he coming to wish you a Happy Birthday?”

  She and Collin hadn’t had a moment alone since Harley arrived that morning. The last time she had seen him was when their families were vacationing just before the summer started. One night they were walking on the beach, just trying to get air. Harley could not remember how it came up, but in a roundabout way she had told him about Wyatt. She told him about the Dorans but spoke more about Wyatt, told him how Wyatt was helping her the most with her horse.

  Collin looked down at her and said, “You love him.” Harley never said either way. Collin had never given her a reason not to trust him, but the risk of that slipping out was too great.

  “They caught us. Mom took me away.”

  “When?” he asked, stepping in the bathroom with her. Harley had changed and was packing all of her things, the things she thought she needed anyway.

  “Right before Dad got sick. Mother blames me, and before that, even now she says that she will bankrupt his family, prosecute Wyatt or something.”

  “That’s bullshit. Prosecute? No way she would bring that attention on you or her.”

  “Me and him are both eighteen now. We can figure a way around whatever hell she throws at his family.”

  “You’re running away?” Collin asked.

  Was she? Yeah, she was. Wyatt had fought for her, came all the way here; that meant he saw this the same way. No matter what her mother did, they would be fine.

  “All right,” Collin said, reading her expression. “At least be brilliant about it.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning book a flight, a car for when you get there.”

  That thought hadn’t crossed her mind; as far as she had gotten was escape the hotel and find Wyatt.

  Harley had no means to her name. Before being caught with Wyatt, she had a few credit cards, some cash that she never really used, but afterwards her mother took all of that, took her phone away, told the entire staff at the house that if they let her near a phone, they would be terminated.

  She looked up at Collin and moved her head slightly to the side. She was scared, but she was growing that backbone.

  “The boy is not downstairs. I looked. They said they all ran away, then peeled out of the parking lot.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I told the head of security he was a good friend of mine and to call me as soon as he came back, that I would come down and bring him up myself.”

  Gone. Harley lowered herself on the side of the tub. Why would he just leave? Fight that hard, then leave? When she looked up at Collin, it somewhat made sense.

  “I’d be hot if I was him,” Collin said.

  Harley buried her face in her hands. Collin was there in a heartbeat, kneeling before her. “Tell me where to book the flight. You’ll be there before he gets back. No harm, no foul. If he doesn’t believe
you, I’ll call him.”

  She looked up at him in shock. “Your mother is going to kill you.”

  He smirked. “Didn’t you hear your mother? I’m my father made over, meaning I don’t give a damn what my mother thinks. This is my birthday gift to you.”

  The first flight Collin could find was at eight the next morning, exactly an hour before they were supposed to have breakfast with their mothers. That seemed like a lifetime to Harley. Her backbone was growing stronger by the second, though.

  She had no phone numbers completely memorized, so without her phone she had no way to call Wyatt’s cell, but she looked up every number to the farm there was, called them all every few hours, hoping someone would hear the ground line ringing and come to investigate; then she could ask for his number, or at least Ava’s. She even called the house number to Easton and Memphis’s house, no one answered. It was like the town had vanished, it was so frustrating that it was making her sick at her stomach.

  She stopped trying at 3 A.M., planned to call hours later when she knew they would be feeding the horses, when she was on her way to the airport.

  Their plan was for Collin to call his mother just after they were supposed to be there and tell her that he and Harley wanted to spend the day at a few art galleries, that he had made a reservation for them that night for dinner. They both knew their mothers would be too thrilled with that notion to even question it, and it would give Harley a good day and a half to vanish.

  No doubt Harley’s mother would come after her, that there would be an explosion of drama, but any moment alone with Wyatt would be worth that hell.

  At 5 in the morning, their plans were destroyed. Harley had fallen asleep on Collin’s shoulder on the settee in the living area. Her bags were all packed just inside her room. Harley’s mother was the one who woke them, and she actually looked horrified.