All the King's Horses (32 page)

“Yes, you do,” he said. “And don’t tell me you think that history has nothing to do with the fact that you keep getting tangled up with women like her.”

I gritted my teeth.

“I wasn’t born yesterday,” he went on, “and neither were you.”

“Dad, for God’s—”

“You’re a grown man,” he said, putting up his hands. “You do what you want. But”—he pointed toward the barn again—“you be careful of her, son.”

“I already know she’s going to leave eventually,” I said. “I’m well aware of that.”

His eyebrows jumped. “And you’re still—”

“Yes. I’m well aware of how it’s going to end.”

He didn’t speak. He looked at me just like he always had whenever he was trying to decide if I was bullshitting him or not, and it took everything I had to keep looking him in the eye.

After a moment, he gave a sharp, curt nod. “Well, just remember what I said. Be careful.”

“I will.”

He held up his list of everything he needed to pick up or check on this afternoon. “I’d best get going. This list ain’t gonna do itself.”

I laughed. “No, it won’t. I should get some horses ridden myself.”

With that, Dad headed back to the barn, and as soon as he was out of earshot, I released a heavy sigh. He was right. I knew he was. I knew that from the beginning. When I said all that to him, though, I wasn’t lying. I knew it was true and meant every word. Only problem was, while I may or may not have convinced my father, I hadn’t moved an inch toward convincing myself it was all true enough that I should cut my losses and get out before “she’s going to leave eventually” became “she’s gone,” because I knew that was inevitable.

But knowing that and convincing myself I wasn’t falling for Amy were two very, very different animals.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Amy

Blue had a long way to go under saddle, but now that he’d made this breakthrough, I was much more optimistic about his future. He still unloaded me a few times out in the pasture. He still wasn’t so sure about putting on an actual saddle. Getting on him in the round pen or one of the arenas didn’t look likely to happen any time soon.

But in the two weeks since I rode him for the first time, I’d been on him several times now with mostly excellent results.

Which was great, except it made the prospect of leaving King’s Ranch even harder to consider. My parents and sister kept trying to coax me back across the mountains, and if I ever answered one of the many calls from my brother, I was sure he’d be considerably less gentle about it. I ached with guilt every time I told them I just needed more time, just a little more time to get my head together. It was true, but it wasn’t that simple anymore.

Day after day, Blue made progress. Star inched closer to being ready to be broke to saddle. Even Chip was getting more agreeable and more trusting.

And then there was Dustin. Night after night in his arms made it hurt to even think of being anywhere but here, no matter how many times we reminded ourselves and each other that this was temporary. Short-term. Very short-term. Enjoy it while it lasted, get it out of our systems, and my God, just one more night was never, ever enough.

Dustin was sitting at the desk in his office when I came back from the weekly run into town for everything the farm needed.

“More receipts.” I handed him the stack. “I wouldn’t look at them all at once unless you’ve had a few drinks first.”

“Eh, what else is new?” He scowled as he took them and slipped them into a folder. “I might as well just make Jim Beam the farm’s accountant from here on out.”

“Well, a bottle of Beam is cheaper than the accountant, so…”

He laughed. “Good point.”

“I’ll leave you to your pencil pushing.” I gestured over my shoulder. “I’ll go unload the truck.”

As I started to go, he called after me, “Need help with anything?”

“Nope, I’ve got it.” I glanced back, giving him a playful grin. “Nothing that needs a big strong man to take care of for me.”

Dustin smirked and then went back to his paperwork. Laughing to myself, I continued on my way.

As soon as I stepped out of the office, movement from the corner of my eye turned my head, and I stopped dead in my tracks. My humor dried up in an instant, and my heart jumped into my throat as I just barely managed to choke out the single word: “
Curt?
”

My brother’s eyes narrowed. “What in God’s name are you doing here?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing.” I approached him warily. “How did you—”

“It’s the age of the Internet,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Only so many guys named Dustin running ranches in the Pacific Northwest. Question is, what the hell are you doing here?” He looked me up and down, then sneered. “I mean, seriously. Why is Amy Dover working as—”

“I needed some time away,” I snapped.

“And you’ve had enough time.” He folded his arms and gave me the head-tilt glare he’d inherited from our father. “Mom and Dad are worried sick, and Mariah’s barely keeping her head above water.”

“She told me she had everything under control.”

“Of course she did.” He rolled his eyes. “You really think she’d tell you if she didn’t? Which, by the way, she doesn’t.”

I looked away, trying and failing to ignore the guilt in my chest.

“Amy, no one’s asking you to be happy about what happened to Sam,” he said, his voice quieter but still taut with frustration. “But you still have a life back there. You have a home and a job. You have a family who’s been picking up the slack since you left.”

I lowered my gaze, cringing as guilt burned hotter with every word he spoke.

“You have a life you can’t just run away from,” he went on. “I mean, how long were you planning on staying out here? And why the hell did you come here of all places, anyway?” He gestured at the barn around us, sneering just like Sam would have done if he’d ever seen this place.

Avoiding his eyes, partly out of shame and partly because he’d pissed me off by turning up his nose at Dustin’s ranch, I said, “I just needed to…find something, I guess.”

“Have you found what you’re looking for?”

I glanced at the door that separated us from where Dustin paid bills and went over paperwork. More to myself than Curt, I said, “I might have.”

“You
might
have?” He huffed sharply. “What exactly does that mean?”

I glared at him. “It means you don’t have a damned clue what I’ve had to deal with.”

He folded his arms across his chest and tilted his head, scowling impatiently. “Enlighten me, then.”

“I don’t need to explain myself to you,” I growled.

“Oh really? And what about the clients you left behind? What about your sister and niece who have been picking up all the goddamned slack? And what about Mom and—”

“I’m sorry, okay?” I threw up my hands. “I was already at a breaking point before Sam died, and when he did, I just… I lost it, all right?”

“Fine. You lost it.” He stepped closer, glaring down at me. “But you’ve had time to get it back together, and—”

“I don’t think it’s your decision if I’ve had enough time.”

“How much time do you need?” he asked, raising his voice just enough to make me draw back. “You’ve been here for almost three goddamned months. The competition season is damn near over.”

“And maybe I needed—”

“Whatever the fuck you need, you can sort it out at home,” he growled. “You’ve got responsibilities. Grow the fuck up and come home, for God’s sake.” He swung his hand in a frustrated gesture, opening his mouth to speak again, but I instinctively recoiled, and he froze. “Amy…”

Setting my jaw, I folded my arms across my chest to keep from shaking and put a half-step’s worth of space between us. “You’ve made your point.” I cringed at the sudden unsteadiness in my voice. “You can go.”

He reached for my shoulder, but I jerked away. His voice soft now, he said, “Amy, I only want—”

The door opened, and we both turned our heads.

Dustin looked at Curt, then me. “Is everything all right out here?”

“Yeah.” I gestured at Curt. “This is my brother, Curt. Curt, this is Dustin.” I hesitated, then added. “My boss.”

Though confusion still furrowed his brow, Dustin extended his hand.

Curt looked at it like he’d just been offered a pitchfork of horseshit. “Your
boss
?” he said to me.

Dustin withdrew his hand. “Is that a problem?”

I exhaled hard. “Really, Curt?”

He scowled at me. “How long exactly are you going to do whatever it is you’re doing over here?” Gesturing sharply at Dustin, he added, “Were you planning on working for him forever?” Before I could answer, he said to Dustin, “You do know she’s just moonlighting here, right?”

I glanced at Dustin. His eyes were wide, eyebrows up, but I couldn’t decide if he was just confused by the situation or also a bit curious about the answer to my brother’s question.

Quietly, as if he was speaking to a skittish horse, Dustin said, “I’m well aware of her situation, yes.”

Curt’s lips thinned into a straight line. “I hope you weren’t planning on keeping her into the winter, then.”

“She’s welcome to stay as long as she needs to.” Dustin’s voice was low and even. “And if she needs or wants to leave, I won’t make her stay.”

Curt looked at me, Dustin, me again. Then he squared his shoulders. “I have a long drive ahead of me. I need to go.”

I said nothing.

He stabbed a finger at me. “Don’t stay away too much longer. Mariah’s keeping your clients happy for the moment, but they signed up for you, not her.”

I just nodded, silently cursing him for making me feel like a scolded child.

“And you have a family to think about. Don’t keep putting them through this.” Curt’s voice softened. “We’re worried about you, Amy. All of us.”

“I’ll be fine,” I said without looking at him.

My brother hugged me. Halfheartedly, I returned it.

As he let me go, he said, “I’ll see you soon.” The upward flick of his eyebrow and the downward tilt of his chin said that
wasn’t
a question. With that, he stormed out of Dustin’s barn.

He was right. Of course he was. And how bad had things gotten for him to drive all the way out here to tell me to my face that it was well past time for me to come back? God, Mariah must have been losing her mind, and my parents must have been out of theirs.

But in trying to get my head together, I’d accidentally made a life out here. As much as anyone could in a little under three months, I supposed, but some roots had taken hold since I got here, and pulling those up and leaving wasn’t as simple as it should have been.

“Amy?” Dustin’s voice reminded me he was still here, standing in his office doorway and watching me, his eyebrows up and concern written all over his face. “You all right?”

“No. I’m not.” I closed my eyes and sighed.

He put his arm around my shoulders. Without any conscious thought or effort on my part, I leaned against him, closing my eyes and exhaling under the comfortable weight of his arm.

Still holding on to him, I whispered, “I…don’t know if I should stay here.”

His arm tensed just a little, and his voice was soft as he said, “You need to go back?”

“Yes. Maybe. I… God, I don’t know.” I looked up at him. “I really don’t know.” I glanced at my watch because I couldn’t keep holding his gaze, and when I realized the time, I took it as an excuse to move away from him, because if I didn’t, I knew I never would. “I should… I’ve got horses to bring in.”

“Do you need any help?”

“No, I’ve got it.” I chewed my lip and widened the space between us by another step. “And I’ll…let you know about where I’m going from here.”

He nodded. “All right,” he said quietly. “Whatever you need to do.”

I didn’t say anything more. I just turned and hurried out of the barn, desperate to get back into what had become a familiar, comfortable routine, but I found out in no time that that wasn’t going to help. Not this time. Going through the motions of the tasks that had become that comfortable routine, I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that my days here, possibly my hours, were numbered. Much sooner than later, this place and every horse I’d come to know in the last few weeks would be behind me. In the past.

I caught myself wishing for the numbness that had driven me here in the first place. It was easy to wish I could feel something when that something wasn’t this ache that had burrowed itself deep in my chest.

By the time I was done for the day, my skin was flush and damp from sweat, but even with the heat of the afternoon sticking to me, I was cold. Cold enough that a hot shower didn’t do me a damned bit of good, and by the time I’d showered and dressed again, I was seriously considering a few shots of vodka just to warm up. Well, to warm up and just check out of the present for a little while.

And as much as I wanted to be pissed at Curt for showing up and reading me the riot act, I had no one to blame for any of this but myself.