The Grump Whisperer (Morningsong Farm #1)

Fifteen

T he air in Ian’s lungs froze in his chest as he watched Bronwen fall from the great height of Hades’s back.

The horse, to his credit, didn’t spook or startle as he lost his rider. Instead, he scrambled awkwardly to his feet and shook himself like a dog. Ian spared a glance to make sure he wasn’t obviously injured, but he ran directly toward where Bronwen lay on the ground in a heap.

Thankfully, Olivia came running up the hill to the ring and called out.

“Hey! Need help?”

Ian gestured at Hades. “Please—just make sure Hades is okay.”

He sent up a prayer of gratitude that Hades’s recent training and interactions with the boarders meant that he’d let Olivia grab his reins and make sure there was no clear injury.

He only wanted to focus on Bronwen.

“Bronwen—”

If anything happened to her because she was riding his horse, he’d never forgive himself. He shouldn’t have pushed her. He should have... He didn’t even know what he should have done, but he should have done something, anything , to prevent this.

Everything crystallized in the few seconds it took him to run across the ring. He needed Bronwen to be okay. He needed her to be safe. He needed her .

The idea of leaving her, his close-held plan all along, was laughable in this moment. But he wasn’t laughing. No, his gut was gripped with fear and his legs couldn’t carry him fast enough. It was as if he was running through molasses when all he wanted was to be with her, near her, to make sure she was unharmed.

He loved her. He wasn’t leaving her.

Not now, not ever. Not even if she insisted on spending every minute of the rest of their lives with horses. Not even if she decided she did want to compete again, even if she reached the highest levels and dragged him back into the world he’d sworn to leave behind. Not if she’d have him. Not if she would just be all right.

After what felt like hours but was only a few seconds, he reached her side, sliding onto his knees in the arena footing.

She was already sitting up by the time he reached her.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” She was...laughing. Weakly, but still. Laughing, not crying. Or worse, not responding at all.

“Hold still. Don’t move. Jesus, Bronwen. I’m so sorry—Wait, can you stand? No, don’t. Don’t move. Should we call an ambulance?”

He knew he wasn’t making any sense. He’d seen his share of bad falls—and had his own, obviously. He knew how to cope, in theory. But right now, he was a fucking mess and didn’t even know where to start.

“Ian.” Bronwen was staring at him as if he’d lost his mind. He felt like he had. “Are you okay? You’re white as a sheet.”

He forced himself to take a deep breath. Distantly, he heard Hades’s hooves as Olivia led him over to where they sat.

“Are you hurt? Anywhere?”

“Is Hades all right?”

They spoke at the same time, Bronwen looking over his shoulder at the horse. He should care if Hades was all right—he did care. He did. But right now his brain was having trouble processing.

“Bronwen,” he said, his voice sounding like someone else’s, tight and reedy. Someone panicked. He never panicked. “Just tell me if anything hurts.”

She shook her head, then winced. Fear rushed like a wave through his body again.

“I think I bumped my elbow.” She moved her arm experimentally. “But it’s all working. Just got the wind knocked out of me for a second.”

And then she was laughing again. Ian ran a hand over his face, the relief that she wasn’t badly hurt almost more than he could bear.

“You serious horse people are so weird,” Olivia commented from behind him. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m sure. It’s just... God, I was so scared all this time. About exactly this, I guess. Falling off. But here I am, dirty and sort of lacking any dignity, but I’m...fine? Mostly.”

She moved her arm again and grimaced.

“You want to get back on?” Olivia asked. “Or should I take Hades back to the barn? I think he’ll let me untack him and everything.”

“Yeah, I think I need to see if my arm is okay before I get back on—let me just look at him before you take him back.”

And then she was up and standing by the big horse, while Ian tried to gather his wits around him down on the ground.

He shook his head and stood, clearing his throat. “He look okay?”

“Mmm.” Bronwen ran a hand down each leg. “Seems fine. Just a little klutzy moment, I guess. Poor guy—haven’t quite grown into your feet yet, have you?”

“It’s a lot of legs to keep track of, to be fair,” Olivia said. She gave Hades’s neck a pat. “Let me get him taken care of while you make sure you didn’t do any real damage to your arm, and then you can take another look later? I’ll put him in his stall with some hay, just in case.”

Bronwen nodded. “Thanks. You’re the best.”

As soon as Olivia started for the gate with Hades, Ian grabbed Bronwen’s hand and pulled her toward him. He took her face in his hands and pressed his forehead to hers. She smelled of horse and dirt, her face wonderfully warm beneath his palms. He wanted to drink her in, alive and mostly unhurt, until his heartbeat returned to normal instead of the rapid, erratic thunking it had been doing in his chest since she’d first fallen.

“Tell me you’re okay.” The words came out a little more urgently, more commanding than he’d intended.

She pulled back to look at him, a quizzical expression on her face. “Yeah. I mean, I’ll need to see how my arm feels tomorrow, but I’m in one piece.”

He sighed heavily. “I’m so sorry—I shouldn’t have pushed you to ride again.”

She reached up and pressed a firm kiss to his lips. “You never pushed me. Okay,” she amended with a little smile. “Maybe a little push. But one I needed . Ian, without you I don’t know if I would ever have gotten back on a horse.”

He closed his eyes. “But then you wouldn’t have fallen. Your fear—”

“I would have fallen eventually, fear or no fear. That’s just part of riding. You know that.”

She reached up to touch his face, and he pressed her palm to his cheek with his hand.

“You don’t have to keep riding him. Hades. If it’s too much...”

He took another deep breath. He knew he was hovering, that he was being irrational. Bronwen was all right. Hades was all right. He was the one falling apart.

She tugged him close and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“I’m fine, Ian,” she said into his chest. “It was just a fluke.” She tilted her head back and smiled up at him. “My fear—what I was afraid of, falling, getting hurt again, all of that. I don’t know how to explain it, because it’s not like I’m not still afraid. But it happened . The thing I was afraid of happened, and I’m okay. My nerves are still a big mess when I think about getting back on and riding again, but it’s like...like that big, heavy cloud of what might happen is a little lighter now. I’m not going to let one fall stop me from riding.” She tilted her chin stubbornly. “I’m not going to let anything stop me. Not ever again.”

Ian was torn between wanting to wrap her in cotton and never let her anywhere near another horse, and cheering her on. He chose the latter, because he’d never keep Bronwen from doing what she wanted.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay. Good.” He kissed the top of her head. “But you have to let me do one thing.”

“What?”

“This.”

He swept her up into his arms and carried her right out of the ring.

“Ian! I can walk by myself.”

“Don’t care.”

He wasn’t letting her out of his arms. Not now, probably not for the rest of the day. Or night. Maybe not ever, although that would eventually get awkward. He squeezed her tight.

“Just let me hold you. Just for now.”

“Aww. It’s a lot harder to watch someone else fall than do it yourself, isn’t it?”

That was true. But this was different from when he’d worried over his friends, or his sister, or anyone else he cared about who found themselves tumbling off a horse’s back.

Because this was Bronwen, and he’d only just found her. Only just realized what she was to him. What he wanted. He wasn’t ready to lose any of it. He never would be.

So, he carried Bronwen down the hill, through the barn, past the astonished boarders and up the stairs to her apartment. Her laughter at his ridiculousness singing in his ears the entire way.

And he sent up a prayer of thanks to anyone listening that she was unhurt and in his arms. That he’d gotten his head out of his ass in time and realized what he had here. Bronwen, Morning Song, a life he was willing to fight for. And he sent up a second prayer, one that asked for strength and patience. That he could learn to be the man Bronwen needed. One she wanted—one she’d be willing to take a chance on.

One that, despite her past experiences, she’d be able to trust and welcome into her life. He’d take things slowly. He didn’t want to scare her off or overwhelm her. But somehow, he needed to convince Bronwen that she could trust him, and maybe she’d want him to stay.

That evening, Bronwen leaned on Hades’s stall door and watched the stallion absolutely demolish his dinner.

“He’s certainly a good eater,” she said, leaning into Ian’s side.

He hadn’t left her by herself all afternoon or evening. Not that she was complaining. He’d checked her elbow at least five times, as if he thought it could somehow go from bruised to broken if he didn’t keep an eye on it. Then he’d insisted on taking her out for a late lunch, which had been lovely but unnecessary. And he’d helped her with the evening barn chores, chatting with the lingering boarders as he’d swept the barn aisle and helped her prep the evening feed. She’d loved watching him fit into the barn routine like he’d always been there, even as she knew she’d feel the emptiness of his absence all too soon.

Now they were alone, and after a million reassurances that her fall hadn’t been his fault, Ian appeared to have finally relaxed.

“He does love food,” Ian replied. “I don’t know how Anne found him, but other than his issue with strangers, he’s an incredible horse.”

Bronwen hummed to herself. Hades wasn’t hers, but she’d miss him terribly if— when —Ian sold him. Then a thought occurred to her, and she could have kicked herself for not wondering about it sooner.

“When your sister sent him—she was definitely giving him to you? She’ll be okay with you selling him?”

Ian turned his head toward her, rubbing his hand over his jaw.

“Her note said she was sending him my way, and that I’d know what to do.” He laughed, then groaned. “I guess she never really said he was mine . Or that I could sell him. But as far as I’m concerned, if she didn’t want me to do what was best, she shouldn’t have sent me a horse.”

Bronwen gazed steadily at the horse in front of them. “And is it? Best? To sell him to another home.”

Ian was silent, and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

Finally, he said, “Maybe not. Maybe he belongs here.”

At that, she turned her head and met his eyes. There was a wariness there, a caution, that she couldn’t read. She didn’t want to ask what he meant, because it could be anything from leaving Hades with her, or in the care of his sister when she returned, or...

She didn’t trust herself to articulate the other option. It was too much to hope for. Wasn’t it?

“I’m still trying to figure out who I am now,” he said quietly. “I don’t even know. But maybe...maybe there’s a place for us both. Hades and me. If there are people here willing to have us.”

The words were tentative, and Bronwen didn’t want to push in case they blew away like the wind currently howling over the barn roof. It had turned cold again after the warm spell, winter unwilling to release its hold just yet. She shivered in her coat.

Ian’s hand found hers and squeezed. His eyes searched hers, looking for something she couldn’t understand. Maybe he wanted reassurance, or maybe he wanted to know that she wouldn’t push him.

And she wouldn’t, even if her heart demanded that he tell her he was definitely staying, that he couldn’t imagine leaving. Her, Hades, the barn. That was what she wanted to hear, and she knew he wasn’t ready to say it. Or commit to it. How could he be, when he’d been so clear all this time that he was leaving?

She swallowed. “There’s always a place here. For both of you.”

His smile was like the sun that had warmed the whole farm these past few days. “Good,” he said simply. He squeezed her hand again. “I promise we’ll figure the rest out.”

I promise... She’d heard so many promises in the past, ones that had so rarely been fulfilled. She didn’t even know what Ian was promising, exactly. Would he stay for now? Forever? Did he plan to leave and come back to visit her? What was he offering, if anything?

But she didn’t ask, because she didn’t want to be disappointed. Which was ridiculous—she’d be more than disappointed if he left after raising her hopes. She’d be heartbroken. But at least here, now, in his words...there was hope. He wanted to try. He wanted to figure things out. For now, that would need to be enough. If he wanted a place here, it was his, as far as she was concerned. But she wouldn’t push him for promises on the scale of what she truly wanted—not yet.

Instead, she asked for what she needed now. What she knew she could count on him to deliver.

“You’re coming with me to the show, right?”

The dressage show with Hades was the day after tomorrow, and she was, quite frankly, nervous as hell. Her emotions were a mess, all of the uncertainty ratcheting up her anxiety around riding to a new level. How would Hades behave? Would he enjoy it, or would it set him back? Would she lose her nerve in front of everyone?

She needed Ian to be there, anchoring her. She needed him to keep this promise.

He pulled her into his arms, the movement causing Hades to look up and snort in their direction before returning to his feed.

“Of course I’m coming,” he said firmly. “I wouldn’t make you do this alone.”

She sighed in relief. She could do it alone—the show was only a few miles away. She only needed to groom Hades that morning and load his tack into the trailer. They were signed up for one dressage test, and then they’d be home before they knew it.

But she wanted Ian’s support. Needed it.

“Good,” she said, echoing the simplicity of his words a moment earlier.

Hades finished his food in his feed bucket and turned his attention to his hay.

“Are you worried?” Ian asked.

Bronwen almost laughed. She was worried about so many things: the show, the future of the barn under Ian’s sister’s ownership, whether or not Ian actually meant to stay when he’d said all along that he was leaving, Hades’s own future...

So she just said, “Yes.” And let that cover it.

Ian smiled, something hopeful and a little tentative in his expression, and she both wanted and didn’t want to ask what it meant.

Instead, she turned and grasped his head in her hands and kissed him, longingly, slowly, savoring the taste of him while she still had him. As always, the warmth that always took up residence in her belly when he was near burst into flame at the contact, its heat urging her to feel , to get ever closer.

A groan rumbled in the back of his throat, and his hands slipped under her coat, her shirt.

With a gasp, she broke off the kiss, breath already coming hard and fast. Ian kissed along her jaw and down to the tender spot under her ear. She shivered, this time not from the cold.

“Scared me to death today,” he whispered against her throat, his arms tightening around her. He raised his head and looked at her. “You’re sure your arm is okay?”

She stopped herself from rolling her eyes with a smile. “Definitely. Just a bruise where I landed. You’ve seen it. It barely hurts anymore.”

“Barely isn’t not at all,” he grumbled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

She tried to ignore the squeeze of her heart. She could get used to this— was used to this. Ian worrying about her, caring for her. Encouraging her when she needed it. She shouldn’t have let herself come to depend on it. Should put a stop to all of this now, until Ian told her what he planned for his future. She’d assumed that since she wasn’t ready for a relationship, she’d be safe—that somehow, her heart would understand the logic of that and protect itself.

How foolish. She’d never stood a chance with this man, and she should have known it that first night in the cold, dark farmhouse. But she’d charged ahead anyway, and if he didn’t stay, she’d pay for it.

And she was still a fool, because instead of stepping away, she held him closer, as if she could keep him with her through force of will.

“I’m fine,” she said, as much to herself as to Ian. And she kissed him again, choosing sensation over heartache for now.

He turned them both and pressed her into the wall next to Hades’s stall door. His tall frame blocked out most of the light from the bulbs hung along the aisle. The barn door was closed against the wind, a distant shushing noise that only highlighted the cozy quiet of the barn.

“You’re fine,” he repeated, as if trying to finally get that fact through his head.

He held himself very still, palms warm against the skin under her shirt, forehead pressed to hers. She breathed in his air, breathed out to his lips. Somewhere in the barn a horse pawed the ground, another rattled their feed bucket, hoping for a second dinner.

She smiled and heard Ian’s quiet laugh.

And then his fingers curled into her, and his body shuddered against hers.

“Bronwen,” he whispered urgently.

And he took her lips with his, desperate and demanding, as if he needed to prove to himself that she was here with him. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, the world tilting with the intensity of the kiss.

“I need you,” he said, his mouth brushing her cheek. “I’m aching for you. Bronwen—”

She turned her head to kiss him again, cutting him off. He didn’t need to ask, not for this. She was fine after her fall, but still rattled, if she was completely honest with herself. His mouth on hers—hot, desperate—his hips pressing into her stomach, all of it grounded her to this moment, this place. To the fact that she was here, he was here.

She needed more.

With a groan, he slid his hands around to the small of her back, then down to cup her ass through her sweatpants, pulling her closer. The wall behind her was solid, and as she wound her hands around his neck she felt held . Secure.

His tongue slid across her lower lip, the scruff on his face scraping against her skin, echoed in the lick of heat between her legs. The sudden shakiness of her knees. The tug of desire and need in her belly. The whimper that pulled itself out of her.

He swallowed the small sound, and without moving his mouth from hers, he shoved a knee between her thighs, the friction and pressure drawing out another whimper. She struggled for breath, turning her head and pressing her lips to the tender spot where his collarbones met just above the buttons of his shirt.

His breath hitched, his chest rising and falling far too fast from a few kisses. She felt as if they were dry branches just waiting for a spark, and when his fingers smoothed around the waistband of her pants and tugged, lightning struck.

Her hands fumbled with his belt, the buttons of his jeans, tugging and shoving the fabric down just enough to allow his erection to spring free. She reached for it but he was already pushing her own pants down, somehow also coordinated enough to pull a condom from his pocket and tearing it open.

She took the small packet from him, holding his gaze as she slowly rolled the condom onto his hard length, intentionally slowing down the inferno. Stopping time for this one moment. Savoring the agonized pleasure on his face as she gave him a squeeze. Letting her thumb stroke him back down to the tip.

He licked his lips, chest heaving, all tightly wound energy and tension.

She reached up and stroked his cheek, her own body screaming for her to move, act, anything to douse the flames threatening to consume her.

But the moment held, one second, and another, both of them right on the edge of something unnameable. Like an arrow drawn in a bow, held for an endless point in time and paradoxically only for an instant, just before the inevitable explosion of release through the sky.

And then Ian was kissing her again, messy and reckless, hauling her up the wall with his hands under her hips, sliding into her in one deep thrust with a grunt of satisfaction. Her fingernails scraped his scalp and he groaned, a rough, hungry sound.

The cold fabric of the inside of her coat brushed against the side of her hip, a delicious contrast to the heat where they were joined, the heat of his searing kisses as he began to move.

She felt him harden even more inside her as he built a rhythm, something about the sensation so erotic the beginning of her orgasm tightened and tingled between her legs.

“Ian—” she gasped, and he slid a hand between them, rubbing her swollen clit with his calloused thumb, rough and demanding. His other arm held her up, pressed against the wall and his hard body, keeping them together just as she herself began to fall apart.

His lips broke from hers and he mouthed her jaw, her throat, inhaling as if he wanted to consume all of her.

He stroked her steadily in time to his thrusts, sensation lighting her up like summer sunshine, hot and inescapable. And then it all burst, sparks behind her eyelids and liquid desire flooding her limbs to her fingers and toes. Her orgasm shot through her like a rocket, fireworks exploding into a million little stars blasting into the sky.

She cried out in the silence of the barn, and then she could feel him joining her over the edge, one more hard, powerful thrust that jolted her back against the wall. The force of it somehow completing and enhancing the tail end of her pleasure as he groaned and shuddered against her. After a long moment he stilled, breath still coming heavily and in time with her.

She palmed the back of his neck, warm and damp with sweat, clasping him to her as he lowered her to the ground, her legs wobbly like rubber. She hooked an arm around his waist for stability. He slid out of her with a groan, and unexpected little bursts of pleasure drew a moan from her at the movement.

On a long exhalation, he laughed, a low rumble.

“Just give me a...moment,” he said. “Before we move.”

The cold night air chilled her skin where it was exposed, and she wriggled with one hand to pull up her sweatpants.

At her motion, Ian pulled back slightly and frowned. “You’re cold.” He blinked a few times as if just now coming back to himself. “I’m sorry—I wasn’t thinking.” A little huff of breath and he pulled her to him again, burying his face in her hair. “I just needed you.”

“I needed you, too,” she reassured him, and it was true. For a thousand reasons, some of which she understood and some...not so much. She’d needed the sudden unleashing of the tension between them, the physicality of it. Now she felt complete, grounded, centered on the man holding her with firm and sure hands.

She stroked his back through the fabric of his shirt. “You must be freezing. Where did the spring go? It was just here.”

He made a sound of assent, then pressed a kiss to the top of her head before straightening. “Let me just duck into the bathroom to...” He gestured to where his pants still hung open with a wry smile. “You head upstairs and get warm.” He lifted an eyebrow in a question, and she took one of his hands to give it a squeeze.

“Meet me up there,” she said firmly, and he smiled wider.

“Good,” he said.

And he released her hand reluctantly, as if he didn’t want to lose contact for even a moment. She felt the same, as if everything was right and safe and as it should be when they were touching. But as soon as he released her, all of the worries and doubts and the ever-present shadow of the unknown future came swooping down, crowding her in the dark staircase as she made her way up the stairs to her apartment.