AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Xavier just swung his head to look at Mack, then his eyes were back on the road. He didn’t say a thing, just reached a hand over and turned up the volume on the blaring country station.
“What the fu—”
“Watch your tone in my truck,” Xavier said low, eyes cutting briefly back to Mack. “I had half a mind to leave your ass back in Denver. The one thing I asked was that none of you embarrass me or the horse rescue. You think I named the rescue after my wife so my employees could start a fucking bar brawl at last call? Or that I came all the way down here just so I could get up at two in the goddamned morning to smooth things over so you didn’t end up with another strike on your record? You trying to make me sorry for taking a chance on your ass?”
Throughout Xavier’s tirade, Mack’s head sunk lower and lower. This must be what it felt like to get chewed out by a father. The way the pain in his head spiked with every angry syllable, he was actually glad he’d never had a dad. He hated feeling like an errant fucking schoolboy. Then again, he’d fucked up last night. He knew he deserved this and far worse. Plenty of folks woulda cut his ass loose after the shit he’d pulled last night.
“No,” Mack said quickly. “No sir. You know I appreciate everything you and Mel have done for me—”
“Do you?” Xavier cut in, hard eyes glaring at him again. “‘Cause you sure got a funny way of showing it.”
Mack swallowed and looked out the passenger seat window. “It won’t happen again.”
“It better fuckin’ not,” Xavier muttered. Then his hand moved to the dial for the music again. He turned the volume up even louder.
Mack groaned and slumped further down in his seat.
That day and the next were not fun ones for Mack. Xavier had let up on the radio, turning it off an hour outside of Denver when the signal started failing. Too bad the raging headache Mack was sporting had grown to epic proportions during the hour-long high-volume blast.
And he’d swear, every time his hand went to his aching forehead, Xavier smirked.
Suffice it to say, it was a long six and a half hours.
Then when they’d gotten back to the ranch, he was supposed to start training his mustang. Right away. From the second the horse stepped out of their trailer into one of the round pens.
After a year and a half on the ranch, Mack wasn’t clueless about what needed to be done. He’d watched Xavier break two mustangs the previous year.
But after almost seven hours in the cramped cab of the truck, paired with the worst hangover he’d swear he’d ever had in his life, all that training flew out the window.
Patience. That was what Xavier always instructed them when dealing with a new horse, wild mustang or not. You had to listen to the horse. That’s what he was always saying. Listen to the horse. They’ll speak loud and clear if you let them.
Well all Mack heard when he finally got Torpedo to step out of the damn trailer was a whole lotta pissed off horse. Didn’t seem like Torpedo had enjoyed the ride any better than Mack. He was twitchy, nervous, wouldn’t stand still long enough for Mack to even put his hand near him, much less to touch him.
Meanwhile, in the circular paddock in the distance, he saw Calla up and riding her horse. The first day. Riding. What the fuck type of juju magic did that woman have?
She’d certainly had him under her spell. When he wasn’t cursing his killer hangover, the night he’d shared with Calla and Liam kept coming back to him on endless loop.
The look on her face when he breached that tight little pussy of hers—Christ, there hadn’t been an ounce of fear on her face. How the fuck was he supposed to have guessed she was a virgin?
And then you just fucking left her there.
He cringed every time he thought of how he’d stormed out of there like the world’s biggest asshole.
He felt the shame of it even as he slammed the hotel door behind him and all but ran down the hall. He did shot after shot at the bar in an effort not to feel it. Not to feel anything. And when that dumb redneck got up in his face near closing, well, it was the perfect opportunity to take out some of his fury. Punching the bastard in the face did feel good. At least until two of the guy’s buddies joined in and Mack was dodging fists from all sides. He could have handled three guys back when he was at his prime. But three years of working with his hands instead of his fists plus a shitload of tequila and they got in several hits.
He made them regret it, at least. Until Xavier showed up to pull him off the fuckers and they got out of there right before the cops were called.
Just one more thing he owed to Xavier. It chafed. He didn’t like being in debt to anyone.
After spending the day failing to make any progress with his mustang, he grabbed his dinner and jogged up the stairs to eat in his room. He’d felt Calla’s eyes on him as he went. Liam’s too.
He ignored them and spent the rest of the night in his room. He felt on edge as he got in to bed that night.
Sleep didn’t come.
His ghosts were too restless.
Ben. His mother. His years spent as Bone’s bitch. The feel of Ben’s slim body slipping onto his bunk each night.
