Page 8 of Home Hearts Hooves

“Dean will always take anything you want to give him,” he says, and Skye spurts the water he was drinking, sending droplets across the table. Preston removes his hand to wipe over his other arm and the room instantly feels five degrees cooler.

“Fuck off,” I blurt, and Sally-May taps the pie knife on the table and glares my way.

“Sorry, darlin’,” I say, and Nial sticks out his tongue like a freaking child. I have no idea exactly what is driving my actions, but I do something that would normally be straight out of the Nial Beaker playbook of responses. I spoon a bit of pie from in front of me and fling it at Nial, hitting him square in the face with a splat.

The table goes silent, everyone looking between Nial, me and Sally-May, mouths agape, watching, waiting. I spoon another helping from my plate and pop it into my mouth, the deliciousness coating my tongue.

“This is amazing, darlin’. Don’t you think so, Nial?” I ask, and then he lobs a spoon of pie at me, but Conner tries to stop him, grabbing his arm at the last moment, and it flings back instead, landing on Preston’s shirt, or rather my blue flannel that looks way better on him than it ever did on me.

Nial immediately goes to apologize, but Skye is already loaded up and flings pie across the table at Connor. Sally-May slides her finger over the gooey filling on her plate, all our eyes on her. Connor is even holding his fat fork out midair, like someone has pressed pause on all of us and only Sally-May is free from the spell. If she were Gramps, we’d all be outside by now, hiding in one of the barn lofts until he went to bed. But as it stands. No one moves. We’re all watching to see what she does next. I hold my breath.

She turns to Perry, a smirk on her lips, and then she slides her finger down Perry’s cheek. Perry’s mouth opens wide, but he doesn’t wait for long. He dips his finger into the pie and then taps her nose with the sticky mess. That’s it. It’s game on. Everyone starts flinging and flicking small bits of pie across the table. I get in another good shot at Nial, then before he can retaliate, I grab my plate and dip under the table.

“You started this, now you’re hiding?” Preston asks, crawling under with me.

“I realized I’d prefer to eat mine,” I say, scooting sideways to make room for him, but he still sits close enough for his knee to brush against mine. He chuckles and lifts his hand to my face.

I jerk back, but he just smiles and keeps reaching for me.

“You have some on your face,” he says, then he swipes the pad of his thumb across my cheek. I can’t move. I’m lost in him, in his forest green eyes, in his earthy scent, in his touch. He has me locked in a bubble of his making and I can’t escape. I don’t want to. Then he sucks his thumb into his big perfect lips, and my cock responds, pulsing and pulling me free enough from the haze of him to look away.

“Ahh, thanks,” I say, wiping over my cheek with the back of my hand.

He leans in to whisper in my ear.

“I really am thankful for you taking in the horse. I just couldn’t think of anyone else who might even consider it.”

His breath tickles my neck, and when I turn to respond, he’s still right there, so close that I can see the tiny flecks of yellow in his forest green eyes. The memory of us as teenagers flashes in my mind, Preston sitting beside me on a log, close like this, but while back then, there was a sadness in his eyes, this time, there is something else behind them. Something more like hope, and dare I even think it, desire. A bang from above pulls me back into reality, and we duck, which is silly because it’s not like anything is going to fall on us under here.

“It’s no problem, really,” I tell him before peeking out the side to check on the others. Perry flings a spoonful of pie at someone and then is hit square in the mouth and holds up his hands in defeat.

“I’m done, I’m done,” he says, and the noises from above us settle. I edge forward, ready to climb out from under the table, but then I realize if I climb out first, he’ll see the reaction he had on me, and there’s no coming back from that embarrassment. So I call out instead.

“Are you all finished up there?”

“Are you hiding under the table?” Nial asks, and then the tablecloth lifts and all five of them look at us.

“Come on out of there. Nobody should be eating on the floor,” Sally-May says. And thankfully, Preston climbs out, and they all lower the cloth before I retake my seat and try to get my body under control. The room is a mess, the table is covered in bits of pie, as is everyone in the room. Except Sally-May, who has a little on her dress and in her hair but is mostly clean.

Atlas appears in the doorway.

“I don’t think I want to know what happened in here,” he says, walking around the table and pushing pie from his seat before dropping into the chair at the other end. “Loki is away in the stables.”

“You named him?” Skye whines, picking pie pieces out of his hair.

“You got him out of the trailer?” Nial asks.

“Yes and yes,” Atlas replies, lifting the foil from his covered plate and leaning forward to breathe it in.

“How?” I ask.

“Trade secrets,” he replies.

“Why Loki?” Skye asks, and Atlas smiles.

“What else do you name a horse that fakes his own death?”

“Romeo?” Skye offers.

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