Chapter 8: A False Start: Chapter 8

Irritated. That’s the word I’ll use to describe what I’m feeling right now.

Nadia Dalca is like a sliver under my fucking skin, stuck a little too far in to get out. It’s annoying.

She doesn’t want to be tamed, and I shouldn’t want to try this badly. I should steer her in the opposite direction and send her running.

It’s been years since a woman sparked my interest beyond some nameless, meaningless exchange. My football days were a wild ride in many ways and now I have a few women in the area I can call when the need strikes me. It will not give my mom the grand-babies she so desperately wants, but it scratches the itch.

And it’s an easy way for me to maintain my privacy.

I storm up to the barn to start my day. The hours pass methodically, one young horse at a time, until all five have put in a good day’s work. No one talks to me. No one bothers me.

Except Nadia.

She fucking bothers me. Her lips haunt me. Her words preoccupy me. And the fact that she’s fourteen years younger, living on the same ranch, and so fucking off-limits almost makes me see red.

I should drive into town tonight and fuck Natasha. She doesn’t ask questions or talk back. She doesn’t run her sassy mouth, hit me with a challenging smirk, and make my dick hard without even touching me.

With her, I could get this out of my system. I could let loose and work out some tension. And then come back here and get to work without eye-fucking a girl I shouldn’t even be looking at.

“Maybe another day,” I mutter as I turn out the last of the horses with a firm clap on the haunch. I’m not in the right headspace for another woman right now. I mull over when I will be, when another empty fuck will fit into my schedule, and the fact of the matter is, I have free time galore. I could fit it in whenever… I just don’t want to.

Something I’m turning over in my mind when I hear the low hum of wheels on the asphalt behind me.

Mira pulls up in a truck beside me, rolling the window down with an expression of urgency on her face. “Hey, Griff. You’re gonna need to do Nadia’s riding lesson.”

“When?”

She glances down at her watch. “In about an hour.”

My brow furrows. I know I offered. But I didn’t really expect I’d be doing it. I was just being polite. “Why?”

“Because Billie is at the hospital. It seems like her water might have broken, but it’s way too early. I’m headed there now. She’s the one who mentioned the lesson.” Her fingers tap impatiently at the steering wheel.

“She’s possibly in early labor and worrying about a riding lesson?”

She shrugs as if it’s normal. “Yep. She also told me I need to get there because I’m the only doctor she trusts with her vagina.”

I snort, shaking my head. “You chicks are fuckin’ weird.”

“Oh, absolutely.” She nods, not offended at all. “So, you’ve got the lesson?”

“Yeah, yeah.” I wave her off. “Go deal with her… whatever. You know. Just go.”

“Vagina.” Mira laughs as she rolls up the window. “The word you’re looking for is ”

Walking back up to the barn as she pulls away, I close my eyes and wish for the calm of my acreage on the mountain.

“What are you doing here?”

Nadia sounds about as happy as I do about this situation. But I also know I’m the best man for the job. The only one with the time for the job. Time I could have spent getting lost in Natasha or someone else. Honestly, anyone other than the tempting blonde standing in front of me.

“Billie is at the hospital. So, c-call me…” I trail off, rubbing a hand over my face. You’d think by now I could work my way around the words that trip me up. But I’m just dumb enough to run into them full throttle.

At least I’m consistent in my life choices.

When I remove my hand, I can see Nadia’s tilted head, glittering eyes regarding me curiously as she leans up against the fence. “Call you coach?” she finishes the sentence.

A nod is all I offer her. I’m already tired of talking. Missing the peace of my time alone.

“I’ve heard you do that before.”

“Yup.” I bark the word more harshly than I intended and don’t miss the way she flinches.

“Do you have a stutter?” She just asks it. Straight out. No shame, no treading lightly, no backing down. Just out with it.

I like that about her. The way she just says what she’s thinking. Wears her heart on her sleeve. It’s why I was so pissed off watching her around that douchebag the other night, all demure and accommodating. I wanted her to tell him to go fuck himself. Because that’s what he deserved.

Even if I barely know her, I know deep down who she is. And spending time with a person who you can’t be yourself around is a tragic waste of time. So, I don’t bother lying to her. This is who I am now.

“Yes,” I mumble, turning toward the gate. “Let’s get started.”

“Is Billie okay?” Her eyes are pinched with concern.

I sigh because I have little comfort to offer her. “I don’t really know.”

She nods with a bigger sigh than mine and then forges ahead. “Okay.” Her tone is back to light and happy. “Just tell me what to do.”

I almost groan out loud at her saying shit like that to me, and I have to remind myself that she’s fourteen years younger. Just starting her life. She doesn’t need someone like me—reclusive and damaged—and I can’t betray Stefan’s trust by pulling anything with his little sister.

“How much do you know? Have you ridden at all?”

“Nope.” She sidles up beside me, eyes trailing over Spot appreciatively. He is a good-looking horse. I can’t blame her. “What’s his name?” Her chin juts out in his direction.

“Spot.” I unlatch the gate and hand the leather halter over to her. “Go get him.”

“

”

I bulge my eyes at her. Silently asking, “It’s just not a very creative name. What with all the spots on him.” She marches into the paddock confidently and holds the halter out for the horse to drop his head into it. “It would be like calling me Blondie instead of Wildflower.”

My molars clamp down at the mention of the pet name I called her, and it’s obvious to me that making little comments like that amuses her. Her lips are rolling together in a pathetic attempt to keep her smile concealed.

“Nadia,” I say her name like a warning, silently thanking the universe that her name doesn’t start with a or a . Scolding her while stumbling over the letter wouldn’t pack quite the same punch.

“Yes?” She shoots me the most innocent look, caramel eyes all wide behind the flutter of her thick lashes.

“Bring him into the barn and get him in the cross ties. Think you can manage that?”

“Yes, Coach.” Her voice overflows with amusement as she saunters past me toward the pristine facility.

If she weren’t completely off-limits, I’d take her over my knee. Age difference be damned.

I stare at her ass as she leads Spot into the barn. The way her jeans crease under the round globes is almost hypnotic. They curve up into a tight, narrow waist, before flaring back out into her ample tits.

If you searched for hourglass figure in the dictionary, I’m sure you’d find a shot of Nadia Dalca’s wicked body.

With Spot latched into the cross tie, we get him ready. I show her the pieces of tack she’ll need, explaining the various parts and how to put each piece on safely.

The tip of her tongue catches between her teeth in concentration as she works to commit what I’m telling her to memory. The suggestive comments and flirting die off, and she makes an earnest effort to learn what I’m attempting to teach.

Something that makes her more alluring to me. She’s smart, savvy, committed to figuring it out, and I can respect that. What’s more, she doesn’t look at me differently since the stutter came up.

No pity. No judgment. No wounded puppy routine. Just a blunt question. Followed by complete indifference. At her reaction, or lack thereof, I relax in her presence. The words flow easily, and I get lost in sharing things I could do with my eyes closed.

“Okay, grab your helmet and let’s head outside.”

“Oh, nah. I’m good.” She walks toward the doorway like she thinks she’s going to march that fine ass out of here without a helmet on.

“No chance. Helmet. Now.”

She turns back to me, rolling her eyes and fisting her hands on her hips in a way that makes me acutely aware of her age. “You know I’m legal, right? A helmet isn’t mandatory.”

My eyes narrow. I didn’t miss that dig. “If you’re legal, stop acting like a child.” I point brusquely to the room down the hall where I know they store the tack and riding apparel. Anger singes my every movement. This is non-negotiable for me. “No helmet. No lesson.”

We face off, her eyes searching my face for answers that she won’t find. Something she must realize because her slender shoulders heave under the weight of a deep sigh. “Okay. Quit your grumbling. You don’t need to take the whole dad routine so seriously. I’ll be right back.”

Within minutes, she’s striding back out of that room, fastening the strap beneath her chin. “If you had insane curly hair that takes forever to straighten, you’d understand,” she mutters as she takes hold of Spot’s reins and struts out into the center of the oversized sand ring.

Hair. She’s worried about her fucking instead of her brain. My teeth grind and my head shakes as I follow her in, trying to keep my temper under control.

“Over by the mounting block,” I snap, striding over to the big wooden step stool in the middle. “Now, before you get on, you’re going to check the girth. Sometimes a horse will puff up when you cinch it the first go ‘round, which means it’s loose when you get on. Rookie way to fall off.” I internally pat my back for not tripping up the word .

It’s a constant running tally. A fixation I can’t stop. It’s exhausting.

Nadia nods, reaching under the flap of the saddle, pushing up onto her tippy toes as she struggles to tighten the girth. Spot’s ears flit back, unimpressed.

“You’re not trying to suffocate him. Here,” I step in beside her, close enough that her upper arm brushes against my bicep. The heat of her body seeps into mine as the faint scent of her lotion hangs in the air between us. But she doesn’t move away from me. She watches my hands, still perfectly concentrated. But I’m distracted by the rosy tip of her tongue that’s captured between her teeth again. “You don’t need to squeeze him t-t-to death.” My heart pounds in my chest as I try to ignore the slip. If I pretend it didn’t happen, maybe she will too. The more I fixate, the worse the stutter becomes. The more nervous I am, the more it comes out to play.

I tug on the girth, testing for just the right amount of wiggle room. “About like that. Feel it.”

“Okay.” Her brow furrows as her slender fingers wrap around the girth, testing it the way I just did. “Got it. What now?”

Her face, all smooth, sun-kissed skin, heart-shaped top lip, and slightly fuller bottom lip, tips up at me, seeking direction. Eyes like warm leather, soft and free of judgment.

I clear my throat. “Now you get up on the block.” She does so immediately. “Reins in your left hand.” I hand them to her and close my hand over hers, wrapping her fingers around the well-worn leather.

“Good.” My voice is quiet. “That hand here on the pommel, other hand at the back.” As I position her body, we fall into sync. I direct and her body follows. We inhale and exhale in unison, and an eerie sense of calm overtakes me. After years of hiding away from people, I never expected to feel this at ease in the presence of someone I barely know.

But there’s something about her. Natural and comforting. It’s like I already know her somehow. “Now just swing a leg over and see how you feel in the tack.”

Within moments, she’s seated up on my horse with a pleased smile touching her lips while I stare up at her. Breath stolen right out of my lungs, like it was two years ago, at a complete loss for what to say next.

I can’t pull my eyes off her. I have one hand on Spot’s muscular shoulder, while the other hangs limp at my side. My eyes are glued to her face, fixated on the way she glows from within.

“I did it! I’m riding.” Her grin could light an entire stadium with its brightness.

“I mean, you’re just sitting there.” I chuckle quietly. The excitement radiating off her is infectious.

“Get outta here, Debbie Downer.” Her head shakes as she gathers the reins in one hand and slides a palm up over the crest of Spot’s neck. “Thanks, buddy. I’m going to cross this off my to-do list with your help,” she murmurs down at him. Like he’s done her some huge favor by just standing there.

Like the simplest things in life bring her pleasure. It makes me desperate to know what else is on that list. What else could bring her happiness like what’s flowing off her right now? Because, in this moment, I think I’d do anything to check those things off for her.