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Chapter4
Maddox
Passing through the stable’s swinging doors, I double-check the stalls, then freeze because I swear I can hear something moving around one of the piles of hay. It’s hard for me to tell though. My head injury comes with a hefty dose of tinnitus, and the ringing can make it hard to pinpoint sounds sometimes.
I press my hand to the wall, cock my head to the side, and listen hard. My heart sinks a little when I hear a very clear, plaintivemewcoming from a fresh pile of hay. One of the strays has been left behind. It happens every so often, but it’s usually in the spring.
Miguel always says you can’t have a stable without barn cats, but the last thing I need is for the little creature to get lost in the inevitable flood. I don’t think I can live with a kitten death on my conscience.
I push open the gate and shuffle my foot around the hay piles until two pointy ears stick up. There are massive tufts of hair on either side, which means it’s probably part stray and part fancy house cat from one of the rich neighbors in the area who have a chalet.
It also means the kitten is likely not entirely feral and can live with me in my little cottage until I can get to town and ask one of the people at the cat rescue to find it a home.
Crouching down, I scrape my fingers over the wood, and after a beat, it comes pouncing out. It lands about a foot away, a diluted calico with mottled light gray, peach, and a hint of brown. She’s a tiny little fluffball with a wiggling butt and sharp, needlelike claws that sink into my hand.
“Ouch, you fucker,” I say, not entirely cruelly, as I scoop the thing up. She fits into my palm, underfed for sure but probably weaned.
She gnaws on my thick, rough middle finger for a second, then looks up at me before extending claws and scampering up my arm to perch on my shoulder.
And, hell. It feels nice.
The thing nuzzles against my neck as I head for the doors to lock up. The kitten is too tiny for me to be able to hear the purrs, even with her pressed this close to my ear, but I can feel them. The little beast is nudging against my neck, trying to get even closer.
With a sigh, I press my hand to her back to steady her as I head outside. There’s not much to be done with the stable while the horses are out grazing, though I know they’re probably feeling a little overworked.
I can’t wait for the late fall when there’s no one at the lodge and I have the animals all to myself.
I won’t have to nod and smile and pretend like I care about what’s going on. I won’t have to suck it up and hide all the little routines I have that allow me to make it through the day without looking like an incompetent owner. I won’t have to diffuse situations with angry guests because the bed wasn’t made just so, or they didn’t like the wine list, or the place wasn’t some five-star beachside resort.
I can just be by myself, with my horses, beholden to no one until the winter season picks up again.
I don’t mind the guests most of the time, of course. I chose this life for a reason, but there are moments when I wish I had enough money to just hide behind the tall walls of the lodge and not have to give pieces of myself to other people.
But… it is what it is.
With the kitten curled up against me, I brace myself for the rush of wind. The morning sun is piercing in the bright blue sky, and I quickly shove my sunglasses over my face. The clouds are looming in the distance, and the ground is soggy, muddy mush from the light rain and the horses trampling over it all morning long.
Tapping my boots on the little wooden peg beside the employee door, I watch the mud fall into small piles, and I make a mental note to have someone hose it off. When my boots are dry enough, I slip in through the kitchen’s back exit, then right into René’s office. He’s not in, but he never is before dinner prep. He’s likely out in the main lobby screwing around with the buffet tables for the last of the weekend brunch before the weather goes to hell.
I drop the kitten on the desk before pulling off my rubber boots, and I rummage around for a spare pair of loafers I keep in various cubbies around the lodge.
The ones in René’s office are my least comfortable pair, but they’ll do. I wiggle my toes, then go back to the kitten, who’s gnawing on the edge of his recipe book. The thing is probably starving. I’ll need to have someone hunt around for kitten food, and… hell, I’m going to need all kinds of supplies.
A run into town is inevitable at this point, and it’s probably better if I do it sooner rather than later. It seems like every time I slip away, shit goes upside down, and I really don’t have the energy to deal with another crisis on the horizon.
My front pocket on my jacket is fairly large, so I tuck the kitten away, and it goes a little too readily into the warm nest. It peeks up at me for a second, then closes its eyes sleepily, and I feel my heart start to feel something.
Which, no. No, thank you.
I don’t have time for a damn cat. I barely have time for my horses, and they’re part of my business.
Rubbing my eyes, I push through the door and head right for the front desk, where Zara and Phoenix are both leaning against the counter talking to a couple of guests who, from the look of them, are checking out. At least, I hope. They already know to turn random drop-ins away with the storm on the horizon.
Phoenix looks relaxed, which sets me at ease. He’s always been a little high-strung for someone as young as he is, so when he’s smiling, I know the situation’s fine. He glances up at me with his startling ice-blue eyes and smiles, giving me a wave.
“Hey, boss.”
I nod a hello at him. “I’m about to make a run into town,” I tell him as we step farther away from the guests. “Are you on the weekend shift?”
