Page 8 of A False Start
The womanin front of me is talking a mile a minute, hands gesturing like she’s conducting a goddamn orchestra. I wonder if this level of excitement is going to send her into labor. Would probably be fine since we’re standing outside of a veterinary clinic.
I should listen to what she’s saying. After all, sheismy new employer. But my brain is back in that clinic. It’s stuck on the blonde spitfire sitting at the front desk, looking at me like I’m a bug beneath her shoe.
My best friend’s little sister.
Trouble.
And off-limits in the most absolute way.
When I took this job, I didn’t think she was going to be here. I didn’t know what she was studying at college, but I figured she’d be gone for four years. I figured that once a girl like that got a taste of freedom, she’d be gone for good. When I agreed to take this gig, I didn’t account for having to deal with Nadia Dalca and her massive attitude.
I hold a hand up to stop Billie from talking. I don’t know the woman well, but Stefan has assured me she’s good people. I wouldn’t have taken the job otherwise. I’d have stayed up in the mountains, where I’ve found some semblance of peace.
Ruby Creek is a double-edged sword for me. Home to my highest highs and my lowest lows.
“Just tell me where to put my stuff. My horse is still in the t—... in my rig.”
The woman’s eyes analyze me a little too closely for comfort. “Sure thing. I’ll ride with you to the cottage and help you unload.”
I eye the full swell of her very pregnant stomach, but she points a finger at me and purses her lips. “Don’t even try to tell me what I am or am not capable of. It will end poorly for you; ask my husband.” I grunt in agreement, but she keeps going. “Let’s get one thing cleared up before you start your job here. I’m pregnant. Not injured. Not sick. Not on my deathbed. Don’t treat me like it.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I mutter, shoving my hands in my pockets and rocking back on the heels of my boots.
She nods at me before spinning and marching toward my truck and trailer, heaving herself into the passenger seat.
“Back out of the driveway and take a right. We have to go around the property, but if you’re riding or walking, you can easily cut through the hills. I’ll show you that too.”
Another grunt is what I offer in affirmation as we turn onto the back roads I know so well. The roads I grew up on.
I sold the functioning part of my farm to Stefan Dalca when I needed a fresh start—something I knew I couldn’t find if I stayed on the path I was on. I kept Cascade Acres as a home base near my parents. It was meant to be a place for me to retire. I just hadn’t banked on retiring quite so early. But when it all came crashing down, I left everything I knew, loving parents included, and holed myself up on remote acreage in the cliffs above Garnet Ridge.
And then I got to work.
“Idle hands are the devil’s workshop” has never applied to another person more aptly. I went from the town golden boy to the boy in town drowning in amber liquid. But building my home from scratch in the peace of the mountains gave me the purpose I so desperately needed.
“Turn at the mailbox.” Billie’s directions snap me out of my thoughts, and I steer into the winding, well-treed driveway that opens to reveal a cedar A-frame house in the middle of the clearing. Just beyond it are a few paddocks, complete with shelters that back onto the rolling fields that must lead to the main barn.
“Just pull around the house. You can park your trailer in the back.”
Once I’ve parked, she hops out like she’s trying to prove to me she isn’t set to explode at any moment. “How many horses did you bring with you?”
I hold a finger up to her as I round the back of the trailer and pull down the ramp on the side.
“Okay, well, there are three paddocks here now. So, if you ever want to add to your harem, go ahead. If you want to take on extra horses while you’re here, there is space. I’ve got hay stocked in that shed.” She points just beyond me. “And unfortunately, there aren’t automatic waterers back here, so you’ll be hauling buckets.”
“S’fine.” I yank open the barrier and watch her step up into the trailer.
“Hey, kid. Welcome to vacation.” Her voice softens as she steps into the open space in the center of the big rig. It’s too much space for my one horse, but I love this trailer, love the layout, and refuse to trade it in for something more appropriate. Maybe I’ll have more horses one day, and then it will make perfect sense.
For now, Spot is my only constant companion.
I unload him carefully, letting him take a good long look around while Billie opens a bale and tosses a few flakes in for him. I rake out the trailer, and she chatters away at my horse like she thinks he might talk back to her.
When I make it back to where she’s standing, watching my horse chow down happily, she props her fists on her hips and blows her hair out of her face. “Cute. What’s his story?”
My general silence clearly doesn’t deter her.
I point at the deep brown Appaloosa with a spotted blanket over his haunches—a real pretty motherfucker. “Rescued ‘em from the meat auction.” Not sure how he ended up where he did, but isn’t that just the way life goes? Sometimes the best of us end up in the worst of positions.
