Page 17 of When the Storm Breaks
“Put me to work. I don’t mind getting my hands dirty.”
He took my hand in one of his, not to hold it but to inspect it. When we touched, did he feel the same electric charge I did? My nails were painted midnight blue, a tiny tattoo on each finger, each one holding a special meaning to me. After studying my hand for a moment, he released it quickly as if my touch burned him. “Your hands were made for playing a guitar, not for manual labor. Why would you wanna help me?”
“Since you won’t take any money for the truck, I want to find a way to repay you.”
He blew out an exasperated breath like I was annoying him just by breathing the same air. A smarter girl would leave him be, but I’d never been one to back down from a challenge and this was starting to feel like one. If there was one thing I’d learned in life, it was that you had to go after the things you wanted. And I wanted Brody. Scratch that. Ineededhim.
“What do you really want, Shiloh?”
“I just told you what I want.” I planted my hands on my hips. “I don’t take handouts. Put me to work.”
“Why do I get the feeling you’ll be more trouble than you’re worth?”
I grinned. “I don’t know. I feel the opposite about you. I have a feeling you’re worthallthe trouble.”
He ran his hand over the stubble on his jaw. “What’s your angle?”
I sighed loudly. “Why are you so suspicious?”
“It’s my nature.”
I tucked my hands in the back pockets of my ripped jeans and rocked back on my heels. “What if I told you there’s nothing I’d rather be doing than spending time with you?”
“I’d hand you a shovel and tell you to clean up your bullshit.”
I laughed. I got the feeling Brody’s bark was worse than his bite. He handed me the bridles and lead ropes, stepped inside the stall, and ran his hands over the horse’s sides and belly. “How are you doing today, Cayenne?” The horse nickered softly in response. This guy was nicer to horses than he was to people.
“Why isn’t she out with the other horses?”
“Expecting a foal any day now.” He stroked the horse a few times then joined me, and we walked out the open back doors of the barn to the pasture where the horses were grazing.
He held the gate open for me and closed it when we were inside, instructing Buster to sit and wait outside the gate. Obediently, he did as he was told. “Have you ever spent time around horses?”
“Not really. They’re beautiful animals though.”
“All animals are beautiful. But yeah, horses are special.” He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. I watched in amazement as the horses trotted over to him and gathered at the gate, jostling for position like they all wanted Brody to pay them special attention. I knew the feeling.
“Do they all just come to you when you whistle?”
“Nope.” He jerked his chin at the black horse trotting in the opposite direction as if to prove he wasn’t a follower. “They’re herd animals, but you always get the ones who won’t come when they’re called.”
He slipped a bridle on a reddish-brown horse with a black mane, clipped the lead rope to its bridle and handed off the rope to me, our hands brushing in the exchange.
I reached up a tentative hand to pet the horse. She nickered softly, and I took it as a positive sign that she liked it when I stroked her neck. I kept petting the horse while Brody slipped a bridle on a brown and white painted horse with one blue eye and one brown and led him out of the gate, beckoning me to follow.
“Just walk next to her. Loosen your grip. Relax. She’ll follow me.”
I took a deep breath and did as he said, adjusting my steps to the horse’s gait as we walked up a dirt and grass trail under a canopy of trees that protected us from the heat of the Texas sun. Brody’s land was beautiful. Lush and green with rolling hills and tall grasses swaying in the warm May breeze. I took deep breaths of the fresh air, feeling like it had been forever since I’d been able to breathe properly. I spent so much time on the road, living out of suitcases and sleeping in a different hotel room every night. Sometimes I forgot what it was like to be around nature. L.A. was home now, but it had never really felt like home.
Brody looked over his shoulder to make sure I was okay. “You good?”
I nodded. “Yep.”
When we reached the other pasture, I walked my horse into the enclosure and waited while Brody removed the bridles. Then we walked back down the path to get the other horses. “Why are you moving them?”
“Gives the pasture a chance to grow back.”
After we’d moved four more horses, there was still one that stubbornly refused to come to Brody. Instead of chasing after the black horse with the white star on its forehead, Brody closed the gate and walked away.
