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“Don’t give me that shite,” Liam said, launching off the bed and getting in his da’s face. “Everything you’ve ever done in your life has been for yourself. Not for me or ma. Christ knows you scraped her off quick enough so you could go scuttle women half your age. Not that I imagine havin’ a ring on your finger stopped ya from gettin’ your knob polished by skanks all around the world on those business trips you took all the time even when ya were married.”
That was when his da punched him so hard he was knocked to the floor.
“Hey there.”
Liam spun around and put his hand to the back of his neck as he saw Calla standing just outside the fence behind him. Shite. The only thing worse than failing so bad at this was having a witness. Especially Calla.
“Xavier mentioned you were having a little trouble with her.” She gestured behind him in the direction of his mare.
“It’s been two days and she won’t even let me touch her.” Liam shook his head, squinting in the setting sun at the mustang. “She’s banjaxed, I’m telling ya. The organizers have to recognize that some horses are just too far gone. If I had meself a nice foal from a reputable breeder, well, I know I’d really be getting somewhere. But this one—” He shook his head again. And realized that, shite, he was rambling. Like an insecure idiot. He was never insecure around women.
They’d barely had time to spend more than ten minutes together alone since driving home from Denver. The last two days, Calla had spent almost all her time not doing morning chores with her mustang. Yesterday he’d hoped to have some time with her after dinner, but when he got downstairs after cleaning up, Mel told him she’d borrowed their truck to go visit her dad in a nursing home.
He hadn’t known her dad was even sick. Then he realized exactly how little he actually knew about her. Which made him feel like a selfish scumbag. It was an uncomfortable sensation. He wasn’t used to all these… feelings.
Wanting to shag a girl, sure. But, like, comforting someone with a sick da? He’d considered staying up to see Calla when she got back. But then he tried to imagine how that would go.
Sucks about your da… So, wanna go up to my room and let me make you feel better?
That was something the old Liam might have done. And now that he was trying to be a better version of himself?
Staring at Calla now, trucker’s hat on her head, in a loose tank-top and jeans—obviously not concerned with primping or showing off her figure to its best advantage to lure him in—well, he still didn’t have any fucking idea what to say to her. In the circles he’d lived in most his life, appearance and status were everything. Calla broke every rule he’d always lived by.
Calla just smiled and leaned over to slide through the fence posts and into the pen with him and the mustang. “I’ve been watching a little while. You’ve been really patient.”
“Oh.” He lifted his hand to the back of his neck again. The last thing he’d expected was a compliment. He felt like a huge fuck up. “Thanks.” And then he blurted, “I heard about your dad yesterday. I’m really sorry.”
The smile faded from Calla’s mouth and she looked into the distance. “Yeah.” She was quiet a moment and then seemed to shake herself out of it. “So. About the mare. What’d you name her?”
“Satan’s Mistress.”
Calla laughed. “Aw, poor baby.”
Liam didn’t know if she was talking about him or the horse.
She came a little closer. “You’re doing good but maybe I can share a little technique that will help.”
Liam held out his hands. “Please. Anything.” Then his eyes narrowed as he looked across the pen at the mustang. “Not that it will do anything.” He hadn’t been joking about her being defective.
Calla just laughed and shook her head. “Come on,” she gestu
red for him to come with her. She walked slowly toward the horse.
“Make sure you always stay on her left side so she can keep an eye on you as you approach.”
Satan’s Mistress was looking in their direction as they made it halfway across the pen. Liam was about to take another step when Calla held out her arm to his chest.
“Now back.”
Liam looked at her in surprise. They weren’t anywhere near the horse.
But when Calla backed up, her front still toward the horse, Liam mirrored her movements. “Just keep taking deep, calming breaths.”
Again, Liam wasn’t sure if she was talking to him or the horse. But he stayed quiet and did as Calla did.
Once they got back to the fence-line, Calla stood there a second before heading back in the horse’s direction. This time they took a step or two past the center of the paddock before backing up again.
“Like boiling a frog,” Calla said. “You gotta go slow. By small degrees or she’ll bolt.”
