Chapter 14: A False Start: Chapter 14

Griffin Sinclaire is a prick.

Hot and cold. Left and right. Full steam ahead and full stop. I don’t know what’s up or down with that man. And I’m fed the fuck up. Which is why I stormed up to my apartment and hit send on that vet school application. I almost missed the late deadline. I’m probably not getting in, but I did it all the same.

I almost feel bad for my horse with how hard I’m brushing his coat, but based on the way his eyes are drooping, he isn’t concerned. My fingers itch to pour every thought and emotion out into my journal. There are a lot of rude names for Griffin in there already, and I wonder if I can get even more creative with my name-calling later tonight.

My desire to hang out anywhere near Griffin’s guesthouse was low. I journaled and scarfed a tuna sandwich and then forced myself to come over here while it was still light out because I’m a good horse owner, and Horse needs his leg cold-hosed and his daily dose of too many apples. I want to give him all the love he didn’t get before, which means showing up every day and proving to him I’m in this for the long haul.

“He told me once was an accident, but twice would be a mistake. Me. A mistake. Can you believe that?” I scrub the brush in a circular motion over the slope of his shoulder down over his chest. He might be tied to the fence post, unable to go anywhere, but he’s also a good listener.

“And then he takes me to his parents’ house? Why? That’s what I want to know. But apparently, we’re back to the silent treatment now. So, in the dark is where I stay.”

Horse snorts, bobbing his head happily.

“I know, right? The guy is a fucking nightmare. He finally talks to me, but he doesn’t me shit.”

I hear another snort. But it’s not an equine one. I freeze, but don’t turn around. Tripod comes whipping around the corner and throws himself down at my feet, begging for belly rubs. I can’t deny the dog, but I don’t want to turn around to face Griffin right now.

“Not in the mood, Cowboy,” I mutter over my shoulder as I bend down to pet Tripod.

“Is that what you named him?” Griffin snorts.

I peer up at my horse’s big shiny eye, the one reflecting golden evening sun back at me.

A smile touches my lips. Cowboys are tough. They get bucked off and then keep going. Just like this horse and me.

“No. But it is now.”

Another snort. I finally turn around to face Griffin, my stomach dropping the way it always does when my eyes land on him. “What do you want? I’m not really in the mood to chat.”

One of his thick brows arches at me before he casually strolls toward the back steps where he seems to always end up sitting out here. Tripod takes off to sniff around the yard, like he’s experiencing second-hand embarrassment and doesn’t want to put some space between us. “Can hear you chatting out here from my front porch.”

He lifts a mug of something to his lips, and I can hardly look away from the way his throat bobs when he swallows. The way his eyes narrow at me from over the rim. The way his lips wrap around the edge.

Never wanted to be a piece of pottery before right now.

I shimmy my shoulders back and swap the rubber comb for a bristled brush. “Eavesdropping, Sinclaire? Cute.”

“Still mad about something I said two years ago, Wildflower?” He smirks, and I swear I could slap that cocky expression right off his beautiful face. I imagine that’s the kind of hell he gave women before he retreated up into the mountains.

My teeth grind as I focus on brushing Cowboy And I don’t even know what to say to him. Obviously, I’m still mad about it. Obviously, I still think about it. Obviously, I’m still moderately obsessed with him, despite my best efforts.

I don’t know what to say, so I say nothing at all. It’s kind of hard to talk around the foot lodged at the back of my throat. Griffin gave me the silent treatment the entire drive back to the ranch after whatever the hell that was in the elevator, so I figure I can give him the same right now.

I continue to work my way around my horse’s lanky body, trying to lose myself in the beauty of my surroundings. The green fields that butt up against the Cascade Mountains, the melodic sound of birds chirping in the trees. I stare so hard at Cowboy that I observe the subtle way he’s filling out. He’s losing that ultra-slim racehorse physique with all the extra feed he’s been getting. Retirement is looking good on him. He suits his new name.

It’s not until I get to the other side of his long body that Griffin’s raspy voice starts up again. “I brought you with me so you would see people who are happy. You’ll have it one day. I know you will.” He stares down into his mug, elbows propped on his knees, looking altogether too big to be sitting on the small steps. “You’ll do anything you set your mind to. I just know it.”

I suck in a big breath, eyes glued to the man in front of me. The man who acts like a real prick sometimes, and then says things like Or rescues me a horse. Or shields me from creepy creeps who are staring at me like I’m their next meal.

“You’re a piece of work, Sinclaire.”

A dimple pops in one of his slightly pink cheeks as he stares down. He comes off almost bashful after being nice. “So I’ve been told.”

Satisfied with the way Cowboy’s coat gleams under the setting sun, I ditch the brush in my hand and lead him into his paddock. His hind leg swelling has come way down, although Mira is pretty sure he’ll need a surgery to remove some bones chips at some point if I plan to do anything more than treat him like a dog. Which I do. Cowboy and I are going to make something of ourselves.

“Goodnight, Cowboy,” I say, before pressing a kiss to the wide heart-shaped snip on his nose.

“You’re serious?”

I latch the gate where Cowboy is still lingering. He lives for the excessive attention I’ve been giving him. He waits for me every night. I know he does.

I turn back to the beefy, grumpy man sitting on the steps behind me. “About what?”

“Naming him Cowboy?”

Now it’s my turn to smirk. “Yeah. It suits him.”

A grunt is what I get in return.

I hang the leather halter on the hook beside the gate and am about to leave when Griffin stops me in my tracks.

“What else is on your bucket list?”

I turn and face him slowly. “Excuse me?”

“The list. With riding a horse on it. And . . .”

I quirk an eyebrow as he trails off.

“The other stuff I ca-can’t help you with.” His knuckles go white on his mug. “But what about the rest?”

Not a or as far as the eye can see with that, but he still can’t say it. Unfortunately for him, talking about sex doesn’t make me nervous. Have enough of it, and it doesn’t feel so taboo anymore, I guess. “Making love. You can’t help with that part?” I cross my arms to shield myself and pop out a hip.

I expect him to back down, but his gaze finds mine and latches on. “No.”

“Because I’m a mistake?” My lips thin after I throw those words from two years ago back at him.

He swallows, and his eyes rake over my body with enough heat to make me combust on the spot. “No.”

“Because you’re not attracted to me?” If he says yes, I’ll know he’s a big ass liar. No man looks at a woman how Griffin is looking at me right now unless he wants to fuck them. I’m not new to this game.

“No.” He shakes his head and only keeps his eyes on mine for a moment before he stares hard at a spot just beyond me, where Cowboy and Spot stand with their heads together like they’re having some sort of meeting of minds.

“I limited my experience to a lot of fucking. That’s what I have to give. And that’s not what you’re after.”

That word sounds so delicious in his mouth, wrapped in the deep, dark depths of his voice. It sets my heart racing and the hair on my arms to standing. Truthfully, I’m not sure if I can surrender enough to feel like I’m making love to someone, no matter how badly I’d like to. And yet . . .

I tilt my head because I’ve got him in my crosshairs now. He should never have admitted this to me. Thinking this attraction was one-sided is one thing. Knowing it’s not? That’s a chance.

“And what if I am?”

I can see the full breadth of his chest rising and falling heavily now.

It matches my own. I’m out of breath, and all I’m doing is standing here staring at him.

His brows furrow, and he scowls as he holds one hand up between us, as if to stop me. I haven’t even taken a step toward him, and he’s signaling for me to stop. “No.”

“Why?”

“Your brother.”

“What about him? I don’t need his permission, and neither do you.”

Griffin scrubs a hand over his beard, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “Not that simple.”

“Then simplify it for me. Clearly, I’m too dumb and young to make sense of your ever-changing moods.”

When his eyes flick open again, the heat from before has turned into pure longing. The look on his face makes my chest ache and my core clench. No man has looked at me the way Griffin is right now.

I’ve shared plenty of lust-filled looks with other men. I’ve seen desire in a man’s eyes. But this? This borders on desperation.

“You deserve someone normal and happy. I want that for you. And I’m not that guy.”

I rear back, annoyed. “You’ve got it wrong, Griffin. I deserve someone who makes me normal and happy. Which is something else entirely.”

With that, silence falls between us once again. My heart twists because I want him to say something, and he doesn’t.

Needing space, I turn and start my walk home across the darkening field, and he doesn’t stop me. I want him to stop me. And I hate that I want that. I feel desperate, and I especially hate that.

It strikes me that Griffin is perfectly capable of making me feel happy and normal. He does sometimes.

But sometimes, he does the opposite.

Which means he also has the power to break me completely.