Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
I try to get my body under control before I talk. “She was just welcoming me back to town,” I joke with him. “Said if I ever needed to borrow a cup of sugar, to come on down.”
I walk into the bar with him right on my heels. “You shouldn’t have to do this every single fucking day.”
“Sooner or later, people will get tired of it and move on.” I look over my shoulder. “Hopefully, sooner rather than later.” I try to steady my heartbeat as we walk.
“We would understand,” he says, and I stop walking, turning to look at him, seeing him with his hands on his hips, “if you decided that you wanted to leave. If this is too much for you…”
My eyebrows go up. “I don’t know how else to say this.” I stand tall. “But this is my home, and I’m. Not. Fucking. Leaving.”
Chapter Eleven
Charlie
I walk out of my house, coffee mug in my hand as I make my way across my backyard to the office. My eyes go to the red barn as I see some of the horses being brought out to start the day.
Pulling open the glass door and stepping into the office, I see Lilah sitting behind the desk. “Good morning, Charlie.” She smiles at me. She’s been working for me for the past five years. As soon as she turned eighteen, I hired her. Six years ago, she was a client here when the boy she was dating brutally beat the shit out of her and threw her onto the road from his moving truck. A passerby saw her on the side of the road, thought it was a mannequin, and stopped before he ran her over and saved her life. All of that because she beat him at a horse race. She was in a coma for two weeks. They didn’t think she was going to make it. It was a slow recovery. But she eventually came out of her shell. She needed a job, we needed someone to handle the phones and schedule appointments, so it was perfect. She also handles all our social media since she is the only one who understands it: the right place, right time. She is still quiet; the only way she lets you see a piece of her is when she’s riding her horse. The confidence she has, the ability to ride and keep a handle on her horse. She rides better than most girls I know, and I grew up with girls who rode every single day since they could walk. She is also the only person I let handle skittish horses. Something about her and her touch soothes them.
“Morning, Lilah.” I walk past her desk, and she looks up from her computer screen. “Anything I need to know?”
“Not really,” she says right before the phone rings, and her hand reaches out to grab it. “We got a busy couple of months coming up.” Putting the phone to her ear, she answers, “Mustang Creek Ranch.” She turns her eyes back to the computer screen. “How may I help you?”
“Music to my ears,” I mumble, taking a sip and walking to my office in the back, passing the wall of memories on the way. I’m not even fully in my office when I hear Emmett walking in from the back door. “Good morning, Emmett,” I greet him before he even walks into my office, and I round my desk at the same time he fills the doorway.
“Yeah,” he mumbles. He’s wearing light-blue jeans that are already filthy from the dirt, and I still have no idea why he keeps wearing the lighter colors, with a black shirt tucked into his pants in the front, showing off his big country belt. His cowboy boots have seen better days, and by that, I mean they are old as shit. “You’re late.”
I pull out my chair and look down to see that I’m two hours late. “Slept in this morning,” I lie. “Didn’t know I had to clock in with you.”
“Slept in?” He calls me out on the lie right away. “You haven’t slept in since I got here.” He pulls off his yellow-and-white gloves, tucking them in the back pocket of his jeans. He studies me and I put on my fake face, which he probably knows at this point. The two of us have worked side by side over the years, and he’s become one of the only people who I would confide in. He knows the pain I feel. He knows the signs of when I’m having a bad day. He knows the signs of when all I want is to give up, and he’s made it a point to be there every step of the way. I can’t tell you the number of times I got up in the morning and found him sleeping on my couch because he knew it was going to be a bad night. I can’t tell you all the times he’s seen me break down and curl up into a ball. I can’t tell you all the times he literally picked me up and helped me walk.