Page 8 of The Lies We Told Ourselves

“When did you last eat?” he asked a little less angrily as he took his own seat.

I shrugged, even though I actually did know when it was. I just didn’t want to admit to him that I was a grown woman who’d gone more than a day without eating. I didn’t want to continue to be this charity case he needed to save. I wanted to get back to the person I used to be, and part of that would happen by taking control of my life again.

Booker leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms across his chest like he was getting ready to wait me out. Thankfully, Val chose that moment to drop her head on his leg and whineuntil he relented and gave her a sausage link, which she took to her basket.

“She’s a good dog,” I murmured, watching her fondly. “What breed is she?”

Yes, it was a pathetic attempt to change the subject, but I wasn’t ready to tell Booker my sad stories. I wanted to just be me for a moment. That shouldn’t be too much to ask for.

“Australian Shepherd,” he muttered, reaching for the coffeepot and holding it up as he looked at me in question. I nodded as he gestured to the plates of food on the table. “Eat.”

I was so hungry I could feel that pinch in my stomach that I’d been able to ignore, thanks to the pain in my side. I only put two pieces of bacon on my plate and some scrambled eggs. There was an awkward part of me that didn’t want Booker to think I was using him. I wanted to prove to him that taking me in wasn’t a mistake.

Booker slammed the coffeepot down with more force than necessary, and I peered up from my plate in concern.

“Eat properly,” he growled, nudging a plate closer to me.

It was exactly what we needed for the awkward tension to snap, and I heaped the food on my plate, tucking in with a happy hum.

When I glanced up at him between mouthfuls, I saw the slight smile on his face and felt a little more of the tension drain out of me. Booker’s attitude would probably annoy some people, but I appreciated him not treating me like I was some kind of broken bird.

“This is the smallest barn on the property,” Booker said as we walked through the sliding doors, which were already open. “It’s closed up at night or if the weather turns.”

I wandered inside, looking around with interest. Should I confess that I’d never been in a barn before, and the only stables I’d ever seen had been in movies?

This place was impressively clean, and even though there was the smell of the ranch in the air, it was nowhere near what I’d expected it to be.

Booker wandered down the open central walkway with Val on his heels. I could almost see the tension leaking out of his body as we walked into what was clearly his favorite place.

“Are there other barns, then?” I asked.

“Yes. There are two more, one we’re renovating at the moment. This one will be your concern, though.”

I nodded, trying to look like I knew what I was doing.

“This is where the horses come when they first arrive.”

I looked into the nearest stable only to find it empty but lined with clean sawdust on the ground. In fact, from the sound of it, there weren’t any animals in the barn right now.

“Are the horses in the fields already?” I asked, hoping that didn’t sound like a stupid question.

“Yes. But this barn is empty because we haven’t had any new arrivals for a while. They stay here to be quarantined and heal before they mix in with the rest. There’s also a foaling stable set up here, not that it gets much use.”

That made sense. I guess.

“Why do they all need to heal?”

“I take some in on a private contract basis for training. People send problem horses to me that haven’t been trained properly or are too reactive,” Booker said, looking inside one of the empty stalls and then nodding in satisfaction at whatever hesaw there. “Most of the horses that come to the ranch, though, come from kill pens. They’re in bad shape when they get here.”

My mouth dropped open in horror. “Kill pens?” I whispered.

Booker apparently rescued horses as well as broken women on the side of the road. He might actually be some kind of saint.

He shrugged like it was no big deal, and I could see that he was the kind of person that thought it wasn’t.

He also genuinely looked uncomfortable to be receiving any kind of praise, so I ducked down and scratched Val behind the ears. I swear she smiled as she looked up at me with her tongue hanging out of her mouth. Her coat was so soft that I had to resist the urge to lie down on the floor just to snuggle with her.

“Your job is to keep this place clean and ready to go,” Booker said, turning back to the doors and heading back outside. Apparently, we were done with the part of the conversation about how impressive Booker was.

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