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I watch her stomp down the hall with all the grace of a charging bull.
Had there been a moment when she hadn’t found me irritating?
As far as I know, the woman despises me. There hasn’t been a single instance since we’ve met that she’s held back her contempt.
Except for when she was caring for me, and now I, for her.
The mere possibility of Heather enjoying my touch shifts something inside me. Something more than just curiosity that will do nothing but lead to complications.
A man like me can’t offer anything to a woman like Heather. And not just because of the rumors, the acting, or the secrets.
Because, as it’s been proven time and time again, I’m not worth the trouble.
CHAPTERSEVEN
Heather
It’s been three days since the Russian attacked. Every muscle in my body aches on a dreadful, bone-deep level, but I’m not giving up. I’m determined to prove myself to Penelope and her overbearing, pompous—
Fingers pausing above the keyboard, I grin at my dramatics. “Tell me you’re a writer without telling me you’re a writer.”
I hold the backspace key until the paragraph disappears from my notes, then shut my laptop. Outside, the sun gradually rises behind the east mountains, and I know if I don’t get moving, I’ll hear an earful from Penelope.
By the time I wobble down the front steps and toward the foot of the hill, I hesitate. I’m sore as hell, and while my body is exhausted from days of intense labor, my subconscious is utterly spent from having one nightmare after another.
The ominous dream of Sparrow throwing me from her back into a black void of stagnant water lingers. Vivid flashes of me struggling to swim to the surface, thrashing for help as liquid filled my nose and poured into my lungs are still fresh in my mind when I enter the stable.
That earthy scent I’ve come to associate with the horses mixes with leather and a sharp hint of freshly cut wood. I check the stalls, making sure they each have fresh feed and water.
Most of them are still shaking off sleep, but not Sparrow.
A soft snort rumbles from her snout when she hangs her head over the stall door to spy on me. It dissipates in a thin white puff against the cool air, and in the contrasting light, her coat appears coal black.
Marcus’s ceaseless goading still chaps my ass, and being alone in such a tight space with him did nothing but give me emotional whiplash. First, he’s standoffish, if not annoyed by my offer to help around here. Then, he’s watching me, touching me, and caring for me.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I trot down the corridor to the saddle rack and grab a fawn-colored western saddle and a wool-lined pad.
My arms strain to carry the forty-pound hunk of leather toward Sparrow’s stall, but by the time Marcus makes it to the stables, I’m going to have that headstrong mare saddled all by myself.
Are you actually insane or just showing off?
I rise on the tips of my toes, lifting the saddle to show Sparrow my intention. When she merely stares at me, I mutter, “Can I come in or what? This thing is heavy as hell.”
The mare shakes her dark mane with a low whinny, but thankfully, she eases back enough for me to get one hand on the door latch and unlock it.
Sparrow’s muscles flick and shudder involuntarily while I gawk at how unbelievably massive she is.
“Christ on a cracker.” I plaster my spine against the wood-paneled door, immediately regretting this decision.
“Don’t give me that look,” I say as her round belly expands with a deep sigh. “You’re four times my size, at least.”
Sparrow tosses her head, pawing at the blond bed shavings beneath our feet.
“No, that wasn’t a fat joke.” I pause. “Why am I talking to a horse?”
After hanging the saddle over the stall door, I remove the pad and take two careful steps forward. Marcus was adamant I control my fear around these creatures, but when Sparrow swings her head around with those big nostrils flaring, there’s no doubt in my mind she’s whiffing a heavy dose of fear funk.
The rectangular pad fits over her spine snuggly, with the top set at the hump just above her shoulders, and when the backs of my fingers brush her warm coat, a tiny, triumphant smile tugs my lips.
