Page 29 of The Front Runner
While Mira stares at them, it gives me the freedom to stare ather. To let my gaze roam appreciatively. She looks beautiful tonight—fun—far too done up to be sitting on the dirty floor of an oversized foaling stall with the likes of me. “What’s with the getup?”
She quirks a brow. “You asking if I was on a date?”
“You mean we’re not exclusive?” I feign offense, even though internally the thought of her out with another guy makes me see red.
“Are you dating someone?”
I scoff. “No. Not for a while now.”
“So, you just… go without?” She sounds so curious.
“I didn’t say that either, did I?” Mira shimmies her shoulders taller and looks away. “Things have always been pretty casual in that department for me since I moved here. Women aren’t exactly lining up to date me in Ruby Creek and having my sister in the house makes it awkward.”
“But in the city?” She’s still avoiding looking at me, picking at a piece of wood shavings on the rubber mat beside her.
“What happens in the city stays in the city. This farm is my refuge. I wouldn’t bring just anyone here. Anyway, stop changing the subject. All dressed up tonight?”
“Girls’ night at the country bar. Sober for me. Super fun.” Sarcasm seeps from her tone.
“With who?”
She gives me a dry glance now. Like I’m asking a stupid question. “Billie and Violet.”
I just grunt. What am I supposed to say? They hate me and have me pegged as a lot worse than I am.
“You know, I think under different circumstances you’d all get along.”
I scoff at that. “And why is that, Dr. Thorne?”
“Because when it comes down to it, we’re all just good people who love their horses.”
“I’m not so sure I’m a good person.”
“Hmm.” She tips her head like she’s mulling that over.
“Hmm what?”
“I disagree with your assessment.”
“Oh yeah? You told them that yet?”
“No,” she says quietly before hiding behind the big mug again. That stings worse than it should. It’s one thing for her to tell me I’m a good person here in the quiet barn where no one else can hear her, and another for her to say it to her friends. She might not think I’m so bad anymore, but she’s not rushing out to tell anyone about it.
“How’s Nadia?” Mira asks, effectively changing the subject.
The liquid drips into Loki’s line as he leans close to Farrah, seeking her warmth. I consider lying to Mira but opt for the truth. “Not so good.”
She nods silently and I continue. “She’s led a privileged but traumatizing life. I’ve done what I can to keep her safe. But I don’t think it was enough.”
“Why not?”
That’s not the question I was expecting. “Because she’s still sad and lost and desperate for love.”
“Why?”
God. I forgot how brutally blunt she can be sometimes.
“Because we grew up watching our dad viciously beat our mother.”
