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The Grump Whisperer (Morningsong Farm #1) Eight 42%
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Eight

I an watched as Bronwen stood in the corner of the shed, one hand on Hades’s shoulder. Every so often the skin under her hand twitched, but otherwise he seemed unbothered.

“I am going to murder that horse,” he muttered irritably.

Bronwen chuckled quietly, and Hades turned to snort at her. She smiled. “He doesn’t like having his dinner interrupted, does he?”

“The only thing that horse likes better than food is giving me a hard time.”

“Aww. I think he just needs time. Come here.”

Ian raised his eyebrows at her, but stood up from his usual place on the overturned bucket. Bronwen had come out to the shed with him for Hades’s evening feed, and instead of dumping the feed in the bucket and retreating to the corner, as he’d been doing, she waited a couple of feet away.

Ian knew from past experience that if he’d tried the same thing, the horse would have given him the stink eye until he moved away from his food. But Hades had come right into the shed, clearly not seeing Bronwen as much of a threat, and settled in happily to eat. Ian had kept his distance, and to his astonishment, Hades had let Bronwen inch closer as he chewed his grain, until she was touching him gently at the base of his neck.

Ian moved slowly now, coming up behind Bronwen until he was an inch away. This close, he could smell whatever floral shampoo she used, probably something as no-nonsense as she was. But combined with the scent that was hers alone, it smelled like spring and sunshine and warm grass.

He closed his eyes briefly, letting himself soak in her nearness, careful not to touch her. Still, they were so close he could have easily pulled her into his arms and finished what they started the other day. Desire slammed into him at the thought, and he swallowed heavily.

“Put your hand over mine,” Bronwen said, apparently oblivious to the riot in his body.

He did as she said, his hand covering her smaller one completely. He felt like a tightly strung bow, trying to focus on the single point of contact and not on the nearly overwhelming need to press himself into all of her.

One of Hades’s ears flicked back toward them, but he kept eating.

Slowly, Bronwen slid her hand out from under his, and he resisted the urge to hold it in place. The horse. That was why they were here. Why she’d asked him to touch her hand. That was all.

She turned her head slightly to the side, and his eyes raked over her profile. Long, slim nose, that determined chin, lips full and turned up at the corners as Hades stood still, unconcerned about the man now touching him. She had a tiny dimple, only noticeable now that he was so close. It would be so easy to lean down and press a kiss there. He wondered what she would do if he did.

“Okay,” she said quietly. “Now stay there.”

She ducked under his arm and slowly moved behind him, placing a hand on his back as if to hold him in place. The imprint of it branded him through his thick sweater.

Hades stopped eating, and Ian held his breath. The horse turned his big head and stared him right in the eye, as if taking his measure. Ian held perfectly still, and when the horse nudged his chest with his nose—like he was telling Ian in no uncertain terms that he knew exactly what he was doing—and then went back to eating dinner, Ian couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh.

He stroked his hand down Hades’s muscled shoulder, then back up to the top of his neck. Amazing. Apparently the stallion had needed Bronwen to vouch for his character, and now found Ian an adequate companion.

Bronwen’s hand still lay on his back, and she leaned in toward him, her front pressed lightly against his back. He knew it was an unconscious movement, stemming from her excitement over Hades’s grudging acceptance of him. But he still wanted to turn around and haul her into his arms, find out if the kiss in the hay storage room had been a fluke, or if he’d go up in flames again.

“You’ll be riding him in no time,” Bronwen said from behind him, a smile in her voice.

That was enough to dash ice over the heat that consumed him. What was he doing, lusting after a woman he’d be leaving behind as surely as he’d fled everything he’d known down in Florida? She deserved better than his mess. But maybe she also deserved to know the truth.

“I won’t,” he said a little more roughly than he’d intended. He took a calming breath. “The accident—I’ve got a metal pin in my hip and my back is basically held together by force of will at this point.” A sad joke, but he was trying. “And my head didn’t get off scot-free, either. I was out for hours afterward. Woke up in the hospital and the first thing I learned was that I’ll probably never ride again.”

There. That was as much as she needed to know. The rest... How the people he’d counted on as friends had turned out to have no use for an Ian Kingston who couldn’t perform like a circus monkey. Maybe that wasn’t fair. So many of them had been sponsors, owners, trainers. They had their own lives and issues, and he was just one rider among many. The upper levels of competitive riding were unforgiving, and they had to look out for their own interests. Still, it had felt like betrayal when not one of them had visited him in the hospital. And it still burned.

And as for his future... Bronwen didn’t need to know about that, either. His vow to leave everything related to horses behind had hit a snag thanks to his sister, but he still intended to fulfill it.

She’d gone silent behind him. And then: “I’m so sorry, Ian. That’s truly horrible.”

The sympathy in her voice was real, but he didn’t want it. He was so tired of sympathy, pity, words that did nothing to actually fix his situation.

“Maybe we’ll get you up on his back, though,” Ian said, ready to change the subject. He let his hand drop from Hades’s neck and turned to face her.

Bronwen glanced at him, then away. An unreadable expression crossed her face, and he wanted to ask about it. But he didn’t want to press for secrets he wasn’t willing to return.

“Yeah. Maybe,” she said tonelessly.

He wanted to soothe whatever it was that lay under those words, but what did he have to offer, really?

A tug at the bottom of his jacket had him turning toward Hades again. The horse had finished his food and apparently decided that Ian’s clothes made a decent dessert.

“Hey,” he said in a low voice. He didn’t want to startle the animal now that he had his interest. “That’s not food. Here.”

He rummaged around in the pocket of his pants and came up with a horse treat—a little ball of apple, oats and honey. Hades’s large dark eyes lit up—truly, the horse’s first love was food—and he shoved his way between Ian and Bronwen, slurping up the treat from Ian’s hand with his soft velvet lips. He chewed contentedly, and Bronwen walked around his head and gave him a careful pat as she moved toward the shed opening. The horse nudged her with his nose, leaving a little slobber on her jacket.

Bronwen laughed, and the sound warmed his insides more than it should have. Unlike him, she seemed able to leave disappointment or hurt behind without much trouble.

Treat finished, Hades snorted and stamped his feet a little as if to remind them that he was on his best behavior—but that he didn’t have to be.

Ian let out a long breath as they watched the horse amble peacefully out into the field. A far cry from his usual tantrum when Ian tried to approach him, mostly comprised of snapping teeth and hooves flying as he tore out of the shed like it was on fire.

He felt a rush of gratitude toward Bronwen, who hadn’t been obligated to spend the better part of an hour out in the field shed, helping him with the horse he hadn’t even asked for. He knew she had more than enough to do, although she’d said their part-time barn assistant would handle the evening feed.

“Do you want dinner?” he asked and had to smile at the astonished look Bronwen turned on him. It hadn’t been the most elegant invitation.

“I mean...yes, but you don’t have to provide it.” She returned his smile.

This was probably a terrible idea. He had no business asking this woman up to the house, not when he could barely keep his hands off her in the middle of a shed with a horse between them. Having her in the same building as an actual bed would probably cause him to spontaneously combust.

But he owed her, and he might be a different person now than he had been just a few months ago, but he still fulfilled his obligations. And that was all it was, he told himself. An obligation.

“I was going to make something simple—soup and bread, maybe a chicken.”

Bronwen’s eyebrows shot up. “Just that? Like...a whole actual chicken in the oven?”

He frowned at her. “How else would you cook a chicken?”

She laughed. “I wouldn’t. My apartment has a microwave and a hot plate. So chicken is entirely a take-out food around here.”

Ian liked to cook more than most people he’d met—he’d learned out of necessity to feed himself and his sister—but still...

“I’m not much of a cook,” she continued. “Not at all a cook, actually. I’m more of a leftover takeout and soup-from-a-can kind of person.”

He didn’t like that. Bronwen’s job was physical, day in and day out. She needed more than canned soup.

“Then you definitely need to come have dinner at the house,” he said firmly. “It’s the least I can do after your help with Hades.”

Bronwen glanced over to where the horse in question was grazing quietly. “I told you I don’t mind helping.”

“You still need to eat. And...and I have more leftover cake than I can possibly eat.”

This was all true, but he knew he was pushing. The fact was, he wasn’t ready to let her go for the night. Back to her apartment with just a hot plate and microwave, far out of his reach. He wanted her close by, just a little while longer.

And she needed to eat a real meal.

“Cake!” she exclaimed. “How on earth do you have leftover cake? You never even leave the house.” She slapped a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry. That was rude.”

He shook his head. “You’re not wrong. I thought if I spent some time alone I could get my head back on straight.”

She tilted her head, considering him. “And?”

His mouth twisted in a wry smile. “Still working on it.”

“And what about the cake?”

“Cooking and baking... I find them relaxing.”

Her expression softened into sympathy. “That’s great that you have something like that.” She grinned at him. “Plus, then you have cake!”

He grabbed the bucket they’d used to carry the feed out to the shed and, when Bronwen held out her arm, handed it over.

“I don’t actually like sweets,” he confessed. “Just the process.”

“Oh my God.” Bronwen laughed her infectious laugh that sounded like sunlight breaking through clouds. “Well. In that case, I’d better come for dinner. I can’t let perfectly good cake go to waste.”

“Exactly.” Satisfaction sat comfortably in his gut. He should feel the opposite. He should tell her not to come, that she’d do so much better to avoid him. He should feel regretful and guilty.

But he didn’t.

“All right. Let me just check in with Abigail about things, and maybe jump in the shower. I’ll be up in a bit.”

He nodded. “And...thank you. For helping. I’d still be sitting on my ass on that bucket while Hades ignored me, if it wasn’t for you.”

Bronwen shook her head as if dismissing his thanks. “I think we still have a ways to go with the big guy.”

“We?” He didn’t like the hope that took up residence in his chest at the word. He didn’t have room for hope. Not until he figured out his life, which definitely wouldn’t be anywhere near Morning Song Farm.

Bronwen looked offended. “Obviously. I’m invested now. Maybe in a few days we can see if he’ll let you lead him. We need to get him into the barn at some point.”

She made it sound...if not easy, then achievable. And maybe it was. With her help.

“All right.” He shoved his hands into his pockets in case they got ideas, like reaching for her before he could make his escape. “I’ll see you in a while, then.”

She smiled at him, and he knew he was making all kinds of regrettable mistakes. But he couldn’t regret them quite yet.

“Yep. See you in a bit.”

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