Page 120 of Pretty Little Scars

“I should call Dr. Fisher and apologize.”

“What in the hell do you have to apologize for?”

“For leaving when I did. I feel foolish now that it’s all over because I handled it so wrong. But that stupid whip just sent me right back, and it didn’t help that I’d just had an altercation with Peter, and then he was grinning after it all happened, like seeing me in paindelightedthat motherfu?—”

“Whoa. Back up. Peter, the useless piece-of-shit farrier, was there when this happened?”

“Yeah, he must be working at the Kincaid ranch now because he was in the barn when I got there, and he’s just as charming as ever.”

I stand and leave the bathroom, pulling my phone out of my pocket on the way, and thumb through my contacts until I find the number for Kincaid.

“Hey, Tucker?—”

“You have Peter working for you.” It’s not a question, and there’s a pause on the other end of the line before he replies.

“I hired him about two weeks ago.”

“Do you know why he got fired from his last job?”

“He told me he quit.”

“No. He was fired because he assaulted Darby here on my own ranch, and she pressed charges. He harassed her today atyourbarn before everything else happened. I’m not trying to tell you how to run your business, but you should know who you have on your property.”

After one more moment, he says, “Understood. I’ll take care of it right away. Is Darby okay? She left her phone here, and we couldn’t reach her.”

“She’s going to be okay. Tell me your trainer wasn’t whipping that horse.”

“No. He was using the sound, not whipping him.”

I let out a breath. That’s what I thought. Hell, we do the same with stubborn horses here on my ranch too.

“I figured. She’s okay. I’ll collect her things later.”

“Thanks, Tucker.”

When I turn, I find Darby leaning on the frame of the bathroom, the towel still clutched to her front, watching me with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“No.” I toss the phone on the bed and march over to her, frame her sweet face in my hands and kiss her forehead. “You don’t need to apologize for anything. You also won’t ever do that again.”

“No, I won’t.” She yawns and her eyes are heavy. “I’m really tired.”

“You should try to get comfortable”—she wrinkles her nose because we both know getting comfortable won’t be easy—“and sleep for a bit. You’ve been through a lot today.”

“A nap sounds good. I know how to position myself.”

And I fuckinghatethat she knows how to maneuver around this.

“You need to know that I’m going to call Blake.”

Darby starts to shake her head, but I press my finger to her lips.

“Hear me out, baby. We both trust him implicitly, and I want him to have a look at that wound. It’s deep. So, you get comfortable, but I’m calling him. Whether or not you let him touch you or just look is completely up to you.”

“I’m embarrassed.”

“There’s no reason for you to be. This wasn’t your fault.”