Impulsion

  “Fate comes in all shapes.”

  “Right, Collin. I just need to… I’m going to bed.”

  “I’ll call you in the morning.”

  She hung up before he heard her voice crack, before he decided to come anyway.

  ***

  Wyatt was furious with Ava for taking Harley to town, even madder that she had stayed out all day, even through dinner. That morning, he had ridden every horse his mother asked to be sent over for Harley to ride, that would challenge her and keep her occupied while Danny Boy was healing.

  He thought if he rode them first, worked out some of the aggression and was there when Harley rode them for the first time, it might not be so bad. He had no idea what kind of rider she was anymore, if this was something she did now and again or if she was still an athlete. That would make all the difference with the horses his mother had asked for.

  Wyatt was going over the farm finances with his parents, planning how much grain they needed for the next month, when Ava came in. He waited for Harley to follow her, thought he’d ask her to take a walk, just start over. When she didn’t come in, he went to look for her. He almost went to the main barn, thinking she was making sure Danny Boy was all right, but the only light on was the one coming from the apartment that Truman had moved into the day Wyatt’s house was built.

  He thought he heard something, saw her shadow, so he started to walk in that direction. His heart picked up when he realized he was walking toward his house. Wyatt could have built his home anywhere on the Doran property, but he chose the spot that would overlook that creek, that one tree that held every memory he wanted to drown in.

  That hope crashed when he realized he did see her, that she was on the phone with him. She told him it felt cold here, and something about memories should stay memories.

  He tore off before she knew he was there, got in his truck, and drove the long way around the property. Even though he was due at the fire hall at 7 A.M., he sat on his front porch until dawn and stared out at the creek, wondering what the hell he did to deserve any of this.

  ***

  Harley was up at dawn the next day but stayed in her room until she heard Camille leave. She didn’t want to be face-to-face with Wyatt after last night. To her horror, that little green Honda was still parked beside the barn. She kept her head held high as she passed it. She was going to her horse, she was going to take care of her horse, then she didn’t know what she was going to do, but that was putting one foot in front of the other at the moment.

  “Where are your riding clothes?” Camille asked from the bays.

  “At the house.”

  “So you plan to just walk around my barn all day and do nothing? Are you not a rider anymore?”

  Harley glanced to Danny Boy, then to Camille, thinking the woman had lost her mind.

  “This is your mount,” she said, pointing to the gray gelding in the crossties, “and he hates waiting on his rider.” Camille stepped in her office, then out again with riding pants and short boots. “Head upstairs and change.”

  Harley had always known Camille was hard-core, but she never though she was cruel. This right here, making her go upstairs when clearly there was a girl lying in Wyatt’s bed, that was a move her mother would make. And by having the mother Harley had, she had learned not to express any emotion in her expression. Camille would have no idea that right now Harley was seconds away from a girlish breakdown.

  She took the clothes and climbed the stairs, telling herself it was not the first time she had found a girl in this apartment. Even though they all said the last time was a ruse, she was having her doubts, especially after a fitful sleep the night before. Every time she rose out of her bed, after a vivid dream about her and Wyatt, that green Honda was in her face.

  Harley knocked. No one came to the door, so she opened it like she owned the place. All the furniture was exactly the same as it was before; like everything else, it was captured in time. She had gone into the bathroom and changed and came out just in time to see a pretty little blonde running around gathering all her things.

  “Hey, thanks for the wake up call. Harley? Right?” the girl said, not even troubling to smile, only bothering to give a condescending glance in Harley’s direction.

  Harley never used it but was taught to give a lethal glare, one that clearly stated, ‘I’m better than you.’ She used it then, though, as she glanced over that girl, then made her way back down, not willing to play nice with anyone.

  It was a good thing she was in a bad mood; that seemed to give her the strength she needed to control this near out of control mount she was on. She felt every bone and muscle and her body pushed, pushed so far that she forgot that she was sore before long.

  “Wyatt thought he was going to have to ride that horse three times over before he’d be ready for you, wanted to be here the first time you did ride, but I guess a girl’s day at some shopping center sounded more inviting,” Camille had taunted as Harley let her horse walk around the perimeter of the ring.

  “Wasn’t the driver in that situation.”

  “Oh, so, you forgot how to use your voice? Or do you just let people talk for you? Never rob a bank. They still prosecute the ones that were just there; they call it ‘accessory’ or something.”

  Harley actually laughed at that. Growing up, when Harley was at her farm, Camille never acknowledged the background Harley had, her parents. She treated Harley like one of her own. Every once in a while, usually just after Harley arrived or just before she was leaving, little taunts like that would come; it was Camille’s silent way of telling Harley to woman up. Say what you mean and mean what you say, no matter how scared you are.

  “Your next ride is tacked up. He’s a bit easier.”

  “What? Wyatt doesn’t want to ride him first?” Harley threw back.

  “I’m sure he would love to, but he is currently fighting fires, or waiting to fight fires. On the occasion, he pulls people from turned over trucks, too. We won’t be seeing him until tomorrow. If he sleeps tonight, it will be first thing; if not, then he’ll be ‘round for the afternoon lessons.”

  And that gives him permission to be an ass? Harley thought to herself.

  The last time Harley had ridden as hard as she did that day was the last time she was at Willowhaven. Camille had pushed her, not to be mean, but because that was how she always was.

  The thing about being that tired, feeling every muscle in your body tingling, wanting nothing more than a hot shower and soft bed, was that it didn’t allow you to be stressed, anxious, to really even think. It was a mellow state that was like a drug to Harley growing up, and feeling it again made her life back home seem worlds away.

  It wasn’t until Collin called to check on her that she focused on her situation.

  “Better today?” he asked, and right as he did Harley watched that green Honda pull up. Apparently, whoever that girl was had been with Wyatt long enough to stay at his place when he wasn’t even there.

  “Yeah, it was,” she breathed. She told Collin every detail of her day, a day of riding, working, finding a breath. Anytime he tried to mention Wyatt, she made it obvious she wasn’t going to talk about it by drastically changing the topic.

  After talking with him, just like the old routine she called her father and told him all that she had done that day, too. He never asked about Wyatt, just listened to her, even laughed a few times at the things Camille had said and Harley found fitting to repeat.

  Harley slept like the dead that night, only managed to remember one dream of Wyatt. She thought about waiting on Camille again before she left, especially when she saw Wyatt’s truck parked at the barn right next to that Honda, but she found that thin sheet of nerve that Collin had always tried to get her to grasp and made her way to the barn; properly dressed that day, a tank and riding pants, boots, she even put her own chaps on.

  The horses had already been fed. A few were being tacked, others were being turned out. She was surprised Danny Boy was not
leaning out of his stall, protesting about being left in once again. That almost scared her, so she picked up her walk, almost jogged.

  When she reached his stall, her eyes connected with Wyatt’s. He was holding Danny Boy, letting his long arms guide his hand down Danny Boy’s neck. He was still in his uniform from work, paramedic pants and a fireman T-shirt. Harley was sure the boy could wear a paper bag and still be droolworthy, and that ticked her off more than anything.

  Old Doc Knox, the same vet that had always taken care of this farm, was looking over Danny Boy.

  “Everything all right?” Harley asked, bending to go under the stall guard.

  “This boy’s a machine,” Doc Knox said. “I was checking on the colt that was dropped last week, thought I’d have a look at him. Has he left his stall?”

  Wyatt looked at Harley in question.

  “No, Camille said not to move him.”

  Knox laughed. “She’s fiercely protective over this one.” He picked up Danny Boy’s back leg, ran his hand down his hocks. “You can hand walk him for twenty minutes a day, for his sanity. We want to keep these lacerations as clean as possible; he’s rubbing everything he can into them. I’d rinse them, wrap his legs tight. I’ll come back ‘round day after tomorrow, have another peek.”

  Knox stepped away from Danny Boy and looked over Harley. “How’re you holding up?”

  “Feeling good, worked out the soreness yesterday.”

  “I tell you right now, I did not like the look of that truck. I’m too old to get calls like that. You know I have daughters your age. Don’t be putting more fears in my head; they already keep me up at night as it is,” he said with a chuckle. He glanced back at Wyatt. “Tell your momma I’m sorry I missed her. It’s looking like it’s going to be a long day,” he said as he pulled his phone out and read the screen before making his way out of the stall.

  Harley could feel the raw tension between her and Wyatt, felt that harsh, painful glare he was giving her. It took all she had not to tell him that he had no right to look at her like that when Honda girl was still lying in his bed upstairs.

  “I can rinse his legs, set him up. I’m sure you’re tired.”

  “We didn’t turn a wheel last night. I’m fine,” he said as he led Danny Boy to the doorway and reached for his lead. Harley dropped the stall guard, and with Danny Boy in the middle they made their way to the wash bays on the far side of the main barn.

  They worked in silence, unwrapping Danny Boy’s legs, getting the water and soap ready.

  “Did you ride Ghost yesterday?” Wyatt asked finally.

  “I did.”

  “He didn’t throw you?”

  “Did you want him to?” she spat back.

  Wyatt looked at her like she was insane. He couldn’t figure out how she had become so cold in just a few years’ time. He hated her mother with a passion. Her father? He’s always seemed like an all right kind of guy to him.

  Every visit Garrison made to Willowhaven Farms, he spent just as much time watching Wyatt ride the broncs as he did Harley riding the jumpers. Wyatt took him as a man’s man, but now, seeing how Harley was, he found just as much blame with him. He could have stood up to his own wife. They had all seen Claire change her tune when he was around; she almost acted human toward Harley. Man’s man or not, he should have figured out what that woman was raising Harley to become.

  “No. I suppose I didn’t know how much you were able to ride since you went to so many parties. For all I knew, he was too advanced for you.”

  Harley was having to tell herself to be tender with Danny Boy. She felt her hands pushing into him as she scrubbed; the tension was just that elevated inside of her. Danny Boy was dancing from side to side, hating the water in general.

  “And how many parties did you go to since I saw you last, Wyatt? Do girls that hang out at bars ride better than ones that go to charities?”

  “It doesn’t matter what you do outside the barn, but in it,” he stabbed back as he eased Danny Boy. He never liked water on his legs, but oddly he liked it on his head, or at least his teeth. If you held the hose up to him, he would always lift his lip and move his head from side to side across the stream. If you did that a few times, he would let you put water anywhere without making too much of a fuss.

  If Harley weren’t furious, doing everything she could not to look at Wyatt’s piercing stare, she might have found some kind of awe that Wyatt had remembered that about him. She might have noticed that to Danny Boy, not a moment had passed since he was here before. He’d once again found the only trainer he could tolerate, that he had never managed to buck off. That odd bond Wyatt had with Danny Boy had always made Harley’s heart flutter a little when she was younger, made her think that there was nothing Wyatt could not do, simply because he was able to harness the amount of power that Danny Boy always used and find a way to use it where everyone was satisfied.

  “And how many girls have you brought in this barn, Wyatt?” Harley asked as she stood, prepared just to engage this tension, to flat out tell him that whatever he thought or assumed about her and Collin was so far off the mark that it was comical. Not only that, but it hurt that he would think she could move on like that, that it hurt that he had moved on.

  “I don’t bring anyone here. They show up.”

  Harley felt like slugging the hell out of him.

  “Is that what they taught you on the road? To say it’s not your fault that you fucked whoever? They fell at your feet, so you had no choice?”

  “And what did they teach you at that charity event?” Wyatt said, dropping the hose and moving to the same side of Danny Boy that Harley was on. He was towering over her, doing his best to mask the pain in his eyes. He could not believe she was faulting him for fucking anyone when she was in a long-term relationship with Mr. Perfect, bound to marry the son of a bitch. “To make sure your man had a manicure before you let his hand slip between your legs?”

  “Fuck you, Wyatt.”

  “Not possible,” he said as he stepped forward. He was growing livid. The sight of her in that wash stall, the water that had splashed up on her white tank, those tight riding pants, that long strawberry blonde hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, the flush of her cheeks, those sharp blue green eyes, that was all stirring him, making him lose all his senses, any warnings those around him had given him to take this slow.

  Harley had never seen this side of Wyatt. He’d always been blunt, but at the same time he was a gentleman, never outright would say something like that to her. She was about to ask him what the hell his problem was when Danny Boy turned his neck with more power than needed and slammed Wyatt into her, or at least tried. Wyatt’s body was pressed against hers, his strong arms braced on the wall on either side of her, his face an inch from hers.

  Their breaths were causing both their chests to heave. Wyatt’s ice blue eyes were racing across her image. “I could never just fuck you. That’s not how you taught me to hold you.”

  She didn’t take in his words until after she leaned up and took his lips with hers. The sensation of his body against hers, in that wash stall that they had managed to steal moments in almost every day—there was no stopping her body’s reaction. She was still furious with him, furious that he had whomever upstairs in his apartment, but right then she didn’t care. Not when she felt the power behind his lips, not when he forced her mouth open and deepened that kiss to the point where she was forgetting to breathe. His hands started to slide down her, and she didn’t dare stop him.

  The feel of him was electric, it burned, and it caused her whole body to ache. She had tried to tell herself that she would never feel this sensation again, that it only had felt that way because she was young, because it was a first, that it wasn’t her partner that made a difference, just the fact that her body was not shocked by the emotion any longer, but clearly that was a lie.

  She gasped as she felt that powerful hand slide down her stomach, right past her hips, and move to the warmth of her. A
moan came from deep in her throat, but he had swallowed that moan with his fierce lips, then he picked her up, wrapped her legs around him, and rocked into her. Harley’s head fell back as his lips slid down her jaw, then her neck. As his hands squeezed her bottom, his long fingers brushed against the part of her body that was aching the most.

  Her hands fisted through his hair, ran across his face, slid down his back, pulling him closer. Harley forgot where she was, what she was doing. She was in a quenching dream where only they existed.

  “Who is flooding my barn!”

  Right as they both heard Camille’s voice from the next hallway, Wyatt let her legs down but took his time slowing the kiss on her lips.

  When he did, he held her face in his hands. “Creek tonight.”

  Sanity was coming back to Harley. Creek? Why a creek? Not to be romantic, no. But because there is someone in your apartment.

  She never had a chance to say a word. Camille had appeared at the front of the wash stall, saw Wyatt’s hands holding Harley’s face like a gentle lover, their eyes connected past that moment.

  That gaze between them had reached in the past and reflected every first, every ounce of pain, and pulled them to the present.

  To Wyatt, that gap of time no longer existed. She had always been his, and he was going to do whatever he had to do to make sure she never left him again.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Does the word ‘flood’ meaning anything to the two of you?” Camille said as if she did not even notice how Wyatt and Harley were standing, as if she could not imagine why no one noticed the hose running into the aisle.

  Wyatt let his stare linger a second longer, then let his hands fall.

  “Why is he in here anyway?” Camille asked, picking up the hose and letting Danny Boy glide his teeth over the flow of the water.

  “Doc wanted the cuts cleaned and his legs wrapped again,” Wyatt said as he turned and leaned down to push some of the water off Danny Boy’s legs.