Page 25 of Beat of Love
He’d made his choices, and he’d have to live with the consequences.
Rafferty took a shuddering breath, sniffed away the burn in his nose, and pulled back. “Is there coffee?” The words came out hoarse and garbled, and he cleared his throat.
“No. Let me—”
He stopped her moving to the counter. “I’ll start on a fresh pot. You get those loaves in the oven,” he said, busying himself changing out the filter and scooping in fresh grounds.
Movement beyond the window caught his attention. What the …?
He leaned over the counter to gain a wider view. Itwasa horse. And— “Fuck,” he muttered, spun around, and rushed to the door.
“Rafferty! Where are—?”
The screen door slammed behind him. He winced at the sharp sound, leaping down the shallow steps of the back veranda, barely restraining himself from hurtling around the corner.
Storming at an already distressed horse was a very bad idea.
Raking in a few calming breaths, Rafferty rounded the corner of the house, his gaze fixed on the upset palomino, trapped in the corner of the backyard where the pole fence joined the greenhouse, pawing at the ground. A mare, judging from her size.
Blowing hard, head up, ears flicking, tail tucked.
Beyond upset, he thought.
She was downright frightened.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he crooned, advancing slowly.
Her nostrils flared, and she snorted.
He chuckled. “Youaregorgeous. But I reckon you don’t like being trapped. I know the feeling. It sucks.”
She reared up, giving a short, high-pitched neigh. Her hoofs slammed back down, and she stumbled sideways, knocking against the poles.
“Ah, darlin’. Look what you’ve gone and done. Your rein’s hooked on the pole.”
The horse jerked again, but the leather strap held firm.
Rafferty was close enough to see the jagged scar on her flank. He stopped, sharpening his stare, more scars became apparent.
Aw, hell. She’d been abused.
There was a special place in hell for animal abusers.
Right beside the fiery dungeon reserved for murderers, huh?
Shaking the thought away, he stepped forward, needing to concentrate on the horse. “Let me help you. Free you, darlin’. I promise not to hurt you.”
The horse veered away, snorting.
“I know, I know,” he soothed. “You don’t trust humans. How can you? They hurt you. But, gorgeous, if you give me the opportunity, I can show you that I’m not that person.”
His peripheral vision caught the approach of another person.
A shift of his eyes identified Brandy-Lyn.
Rafferty extended his arm backward, motioning her back with his hand.
“What’s her name, Red?” he asked, raising his voice enough for her to hear.
