The Grump Whisperer (Morningsong Farm #1)

Sixteen

I an kissed Bronwen again, and then again, and she laughed.

“With this many good-luck kisses, Hades and I are definitely going to win tomorrow.”

She stood on the porch of the farmhouse, wonderfully disheveled and blushing. Not half an hour before, they’d been tangled up in bed, and Ian would have given a lot to be back there instead of kissing her goodbye for the night.

“That seems like a good excuse to keep kissing you,” he replied.

Bronwen swatted him on the shoulder. “You’re the one sending me home. This was all your idea.”

Ian groaned. “You need a good night’s rest before the show. We have to be up in a few hours.”

Bronwen sighed dramatically. “So practical. But you’re right. I’ll take Martha’s example—she said she slept nine hours last night before heading out with Percy for the hunter show this weekend.”

“You don’t have nine hours left, but you’d better go before I change my mind and haul you back inside.”

He didn’t know why he was so reluctant to let her go, aside from the obvious. They’d spent most nights together over the past couple of weeks, but he did want to make sure she was well rested for tomorrow. He’d see her again in just a few hours to get Hades ready and set off for the nearby show. There was no reason to cling.

He settled for one more kiss. He wanted to tell her everything—that he’d decided to stay, that he wanted to know if she would be willing to keep him. He didn’t even know what that would look like, but he wanted to find out. His sister would likely return soon, and so much depended on her plans. But whatever it took, he would make sure that Morning Song was in good hands. And if Bronwen was willing, he’d stay with her as long as she wanted him.

But he knew she was wary of relationships, and that his sudden decision would be a surprise at best and unwelcome at worst. He could hardly spring it all on her right before the show. She was nervous and didn’t need anything else to worry about.

So he tucked her into her coat and turned her around by the shoulders.

“Scoot,” he said. Her arms shook as she laughed at him, and he smiled despite everything. “See you in the morning,” he murmured into her ear before releasing her.

With a wave, she took off down the path to the barn, and he watched her the whole way.

Then he went inside and to the little study off the living room. He’d kept the door shut since he arrived, most of the boxes of his things from Florida still stacked against the wall. The rest of his belongings were still in storage down there. It was a silly gesture, he saw now, refusing to unpack these boxes. It wasn’t as if he had much—clothes, kitchen items, papers and photographs, books, a few pieces of furniture from his old apartment.

When he’d first arrived at Morning Song, he’d only removed what he absolutely needed and left the rest in the small room, colder than the rest of the house. He wasn’t sure whether he’d simply refused to commit to even his short stay at the farm, or if he’d been punishing himself, unwilling to make any place feel more like home.

Now he grabbed scissors from the kitchen and began opening boxes—knowing he might need to pack them right back up if Anne planned to live in the farmhouse, or if Bronwen kicked him to the curb. He shoved that thought away and started pulling things out. For now, he needed distraction. And finally, he felt like he could let the remains of his past back into his life.

None of it was particularly special, or valuable, but he could almost breathe the Florida air as he opened one box after another. His books on training horses. His riding clothes, including the show jacket he’d planned to wear at a big show he’d never made it to. That one stung. But even as the hurt was still there, he didn’t feel the same resentment as he had in the past. He’d lost a lot. Nothing could change that.

But he’d gained something, too. A group of people who seemed to like him for who he was and not what prizes he could win. More time, less stress—some of his happiest memories now were of cooking in the old kitchen while Bronwen watched, or leaning on the fence simply watching Hades graze in the field. Knowing he didn’t need to hop into a trailer or on a plane the next day. That he could do the same tomorrow, and the next day. It was a stability he’d never experienced, and he realized now that given the choice, he’d gladly choose stability over the excitement of the show circuit.

He’d been mourning something he’d achieved by necessity, without ever wondering if it was what he really wanted.

And Bronwen, of course. He’d gained her, too. For now, and hopefully forever.

A few photographs spilled out of a book as he lifted it out of the box. He rifled through them. There was one of him on a horse he’d ridden years ago, midway over an enormous fence. He missed it. He’d never deny that he’d always miss riding. But it didn’t hurt as much as he would have expected to see the evidence of his past life. Pride and satisfaction outweighed the pain. He’d done something with his life. He’d taken care of himself and his sister and he’d achieved more than he’d ever thought possible. And he’d gained skills that people still wanted—expertise, knowledge, training.

It hadn’t been a waste after all.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. He rose and dusted off his jeans, wondering what had brought Bronwen back to the house. He should scold her and send her back to her apartment, but he knew he probably wouldn’t.

But when he opened the door, it was the last person he could have expected.

“Anne!”

His sister raised her eyebrows at him. “Why are you so surprised? I told you I was coming. Also, this is my house.”

Ian let out his breath with a huff. “A house you’ve never been to. And you didn’t tell me you were coming.”

Anne pushed past him and into the mostly empty living room. “I’ve been here. When I bought it—I was hardly going to buy a farm sight unseen.”

For some reason, he’d thought that was exactly what she’d done. Anne always followed her intuition, which sometimes made her seem impulsive. But usually, her instincts were onto something.

“And I texted you two hours ago from the airport on my new phone,” she added, holding up the device in question. “I had to get the world’s most expensive Uber when you didn’t answer.”

Ian tried and failed to stop the flush that he could feel creeping up his neck. Two hours ago he’d been in bed with Bronwen. His phone was probably still upstairs.

“I’m not even going to ask what that reaction is all about,” his sister said and turned in a circle in the middle of the room. “It’s hardly homey in here, Ian. You’ve been here for weeks!”

He shrugged as if it was no big deal, but in the face of Anne’s scrutiny he felt foolish. He’d just been telling himself that refusing to settle into the house had been silly, and it was true. But maybe he’d needed to brood, to live in the worst parts of himself, to figure out what he needed.

He’d thought it was to run away. But now he knew it was to stay.

He cleared his throat. “So. Are you moving in?”

Another eyebrow raise. “‘How are you, dear sister? How was your postdivorce getaway? Are you well?’”

No one could make him feel like an ass like Anne.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. He hadn’t seen her in well over a month, and he did want to know how she was doing.

“I’d think you’d fallen madly in love with the farm and were worried I was going to kick you out,” she said with a smirk. “But clearly you don’t feel that much at home.” She gestured to the cold and empty room.

He ran a hand through his hair. “I was...just dealing with some stuff.”

Her smirk softened into a sympathetic smile. “I know. I know you were.”

Impulsively Ian crossed the space between them and pulled his sister into a hug. Neither of them were huggers, really, but having Anne here after so long, after so much had happened—he wanted to feel that she was okay. That she was really here.

He breathed her in, the grown-up version of the girl he’d raised as best he could. It hadn’t been perfect, or even a particularly good childhood for both of them. But they were here , dammit. They were here and together. And they’d both be okay, accident and divorce be damned.

“What was that for?” Anne asked shakily when he finally released her.

Ian shrugged, awkward in his own emotions. “I just...missed you.” He let out a long breath. “How are you, anyway? Did the vacation do...whatever you needed it to?”

Anne nodded slowly, as if she was trying to figure out the answer. “Yeah. I think so. I just needed to remove myself from my past, from the divorce—from everything, you know? Just for a little while.”

Ian did know. Wasn’t that exactly what Anne had given him by sending him to the farm?

“Oh—Ian! Why is all your stuff crammed into this room?”

He’d left the door to the study open when he answered the door. Now Anne bustled into the room and looked at his half-opened boxes.

Then she looked at him as if she could see right through him to exactly why he’d never unpacked. Uncertainty crossed her face like a cloud.

“I’m sorry, Ian. Was it a mistake? I just thought, since I’d found this farm but wasn’t moving in right away, it might give you...” She laughed a little. “Something. I don’t know. I didn’t have a clue what you needed, honestly.”

The last time he saw Anne, he’d been just out of the hospital, bitter and in pain and discovering how much he’d really lost. Her divorce was recently finalized and she’d already made plans to go away for a while. He’d all but forced her to take her trip despite the mess he was in. And then she’d suggested that he farm-sit while she was away. He hadn’t really been in a mood to ask for specifics.

“It was exactly what I needed,” he said, giving her arm a squeeze. “I didn’t know it then, but...it was perfect.”

She sighed with relief and nudged the side of one box with the toe of her boot. “Thank God. I thought I’d get here and you’d rip me a new one—for the farm, for the horse, for everything.”

“I mean...” It was Ian’s turn to raise his eyebrows at her. “It was all a bit of a surprise. The fact that this is a working boarding barn, for one. The horse, for another. I wasn’t thrilled at the time.”

She met his gaze, a smile playing around her mouth. “But you are now? Thrilled? Or at least not furious?”

“I’m not furious...anymore,” he teased. Then he grew serious. “At the time, I was pretty pissed off—I thought at you for sticking me with all of this, but really, it wasn’t you. It was everyone and everything. You were right that I needed to rejoin the human race. And the equine one.” He laughed a little, amazed at how true that was.

“I just wanted to take care of you for once,” she said quietly. “The way you’d always taken care of me.” She shook herself much the way Hades did after a roll in the field. “Anyway. This room is freezing. Let’s pull this stuff into the living room and then you can make me a snack.”

In a few short minutes they’d pulled the boxes and furniture into the living room, some spilling into the kitchen. Just the presence of his things chased away the emptiness that had haunted the house since he’d arrived.

He grabbed the makings for a sandwich out of the fridge and started putting together something for his sister to eat. She sat at the table and watched.

“How is Hades, anyway?” she asked while he worked. “Clover Farm said he was a little difficult, but his breeding is incredible.”

Ian snorted. “A little difficult? Anne, the horse was untouchable when he got here. Someone really did a number on him before Clover got him.”

Anne’s eyebrows furrowed as she frowned. “Really? That’s horrible! Have you made any progress with him, or did you toss him in a field and leave him?”

Ian rolled his eyes. “You know I wouldn’t do that. And yes, he’s made a lot of progress. Actually, the barn manager is riding him in a little dressage show tomorrow. You should come.”

“Oh right, the former owner said the manager is great. What’s her name? Brooke or something?”

“Bronwen,” he tried to say as casually as possible, but Anne grinned at his tone. She saw right through him.

“Aha, I see.”

He brought the sandwich-laden plate to the table and sat across from his sister.

“You see nothing.”

“Uh-huh. If I’d known there was a Bronwen here on the farm, well—I’d still have sent you here. But with even more enthusiasm.”

“We were talking about the horse, Anne,” he said repressively.

“Uh-huh. Sure. Anyway, if you and Bronwen are taking him to a show tomorrow, I think I’ll hold off and meet both horse and woman when you get back.” She yawned, then took a bite of the sandwich. “I’m exhausted, honestly. I needed to get away, but now I just want to stay in one place for as long as possible.”

Ian grabbed a sandwich just for something to do. He’d made pasta for Bronwen earlier, determined that she’d eat a good dinner before the show.

“So,” he began.

Anne gave him a half smile. “ So. You want to know what the hell I’m doing.”

He really did. “I think...” He stopped, then tried again. “I’d planned to hide away here until I figured out what to do next. Something far away, something as different from riding horses as I could find. I wanted to leave it all behind.”

Anne reached across the table to squeeze his hand. “Ian...”

“But,” he forged ahead, “because of your totally inappropriate interference—” Anne rolled her eyes at him “—I realized that I had my head solidly up my ass.”

She gave him the look that said he was being too hard on himself. He’d seen it a million times before, when he’d fallen from a horse, or ruined dinner because he was still learning how to cook.

“I had reason for it,” he admitted. “But still. I was wrong, and I needed this place—the people in this place—to figure that out. So...thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Anne said simply.

“And...yes, I fell for the barn manager.” They both laughed. “I have no idea if she wants me to stick around, but I’d like to. The people here—the boarders, hell, the horses, too. They’re just trying to do their best. And to take care of each other. And they seem to like me okay.” He shrugged. “I’ve been teaching a few lessons, just to help out a little.”

“That’s great, Ian. You’re such a good teacher.”

He smiled a little. “Maybe. It does turn out that my horse skills extend beyond catching rides.”

“Of course they do!” Anne’s expression turned thoughtful.

“I want to stay here,” Ian said, because he might as well lay all his cards on the table. “Assuming Bronwen doesn’t kick me out,” he added. “I want to stay at Morning Song.”

“I see.” Anne didn’t appear unhappy about the idea, but she didn’t seem happy, exactly, either. “You know what my plan for the farm was, of course.”

He had absolutely no idea. “Anne,” he said a little irritably. “I can’t read your mind. Especially when you’re God knows where and I can’t reach you.”

She shook her head at him. “Remember when we were teenagers, and I always hung around all the babies at that one farm you rode for?”

He remembered. She’d come with him most days after she’d gotten out of school, and spent hours learning about handling foals, studying bloodlines, helping the breeding arm of the farm he’d been riding for any way she could. He’d never thought that much of it—who didn’t like baby animals? And Anne had always been more interested in that area of horsemanship than in riding, which was all he’d focused on.

Suddenly, he got it. Buying Morning Song hadn’t been a whim. It hadn’t been a random act of a woman grieving a bad marriage and divorce. Or an un-thought-out purchase because she’d needed somewhere to live when she returned from her trip. It hadn’t even been a pity purchase, just for his benefit, because she knew he needed to be here.

“You want to start a breeding operation.”

Anne’s face lit with excitement. “Yes! Obviously. I know Clover’s not too far from here, but I was thinking of a smaller business. Just a stallion or two, and a few mares. Something just active enough to be profitable, but small enough that we can really pay attention to the horses and any clients.”

“Hades,” he said.

She nodded. “All part of the plan. Honestly, buying this farm took up most of my money. I could hardly go off to Europe and import some already successful stallion. Hades was such a bargain for what he is.”

Ian could see it. The fields of Morning Song jubilant with playing foals, mares calmly grazing while their little ones ran in the spring sunshine. Hades the foundation, passing on his talent to generations. Anne could work with the babies, and he could help train the young horses. It was a beautiful vision, and he wanted to be part of it.

But...

“The boarders. Bronwen.”

Anne wrinkled her nose. “I have to admit I thought we’d just convert the farm over.”

Ian suppressed a groan. He loved his sister, and he loved the idea of raising horses together. But Morning Song was a community. They weren’t professional riders, their horses nothing like the expensive high-performance animals he was used to. But they were loved, treasured—as much as the people who cared for them loved and treasured each other.

“But,” his sister continued with a little smile, “I’m open to suggestion.”

“Really?” He had no idea how that would work.

“Yes, really. I’m hardly going to kick your friends—not to mention your lady friend—out on their ass, if that would hurt you.”

“Oh.”

“ Oh , he says.” Anne shook her head. She wiped her hands on a napkin. “Ian. I want to do this, but more than anything, I want to do this with you . If you’re willing.” She took a deep breath and stared off into the distance. “We used to be together all the time, you know? You and me against the world. But then we grew up, and these past few years you were traveling the world while I...” She sighed. “While I made a huge mistake and got married.”

“You didn’t know he was an ass.”

“Mmm. I probably did. I just didn’t want to admit it. But I missed you, Ian. And then, with your accident, I thought maybe...maybe I’d lost you.” Her eyes filled with tears, and this time he reached across the table for her hand.

“You didn’t. You didn’t lose me, and I’m not going anywhere.”

She smiled at him. “Good. I think this could be good for us both. And for me, well...I just want a home . Finally. Somewhere safe and happy. With horses and my brother—and anyone else he wants to bring into our family.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” He didn’t even know if Bronwen wanted him around on a permanent basis.

Anne huffed a laugh. “I think you’ll be fine.”

Ian wasn’t so sure, but he had hope. And that was something he hadn’t had for a while.

“Anyway,” Anne continued. “It’s a big farm. Plenty of room to build another barn for the breeding operation. I’d need to try to take out a loan for a new barn, but for now we can make do. And we’ve already got a barn manager who knows how to run the boarding side of things. Seems to me like we’re already on our way.”

Ian sat quietly for a moment, filled with gratitude and hardly believing how much things had changed in the past months. The grace other people had shown him... Bronwen, everyone at the farm, now his sister, willing to adjust her plans just because he cared about the people here. Grateful didn’t even begin to cover it.

“I guess we are,” he said and let it sit there for now.

The ring of the landline phone in the house woke Ian from a deep sleep.

The sky was black through the windows and he had no idea what time it was. He would have thought the landline would be disconnected by now—he certainly hadn’t been paying that bill. He only knew it existed because of a wrong-number call some weeks ago.

He nearly tripped over his clothes from yesterday, piled on the floor in the living room where he’d left them by the couch after settling Anne in the one bed in the house. His back complained as he moved, and he resolved to buy a second bed as soon as possible.

He grabbed the phone once he’d made it to the kitchen.

“Hello?” His voice was rough with sleep.

“Ian? That you?”

The voice on the other end of the line sounded worried—panicked, even. And familiar. He tried to jog his brain into some form of wakefulness.

“Um. Martha?”

“Yes, it’s me. Are you at the house?”

She must be panicked if she was asking if he was at the house where the landline she’d just called was.

“What’s wrong?”

His brain began catastrophizing. The barn, Percy, one of the other horses. A person injured. But all of the horses should be tucked into their stalls this time of night, owners home in their own beds. And Bronwen would have called or come up to the house if something was wrong, wouldn’t she?

“I’m at the show—you know, at Old Oak Stables?”

Right. Martha had taken Percy that morning, possibly now yesterday morning, to a show a couple of counties over, planning to stay with her sister overnight. It was a big show for Martha and Percy, who usually stuck to day trips when they wanted to get out and see what they could do. Martha had only decided to head farther afield because the farm was close to her sister.

“Okay? Yes.” He glanced down at his watch. Three thirty in the morning. He groaned—he’d be heading down to the barn to meet Bronwen in just a couple of hours.

“It’s Percy—I think he’s colicked. I’m here at the farm with him, but no one is around. They don’t have an on-site barn manager. He just lay down and I can’t get him up. I don’t know what to do—I don’t want to bother Bronwen when she’s got her own big show.”

As she spoke, Martha’s voice sped up and she sounded out of breath, like she was bordering on a panic attack.

Martha wouldn’t have been able to reach Bronwen anyway. Ian had told her in no uncertain terms to turn off her phone last night. She needed the rest, and nothing that wasn’t happening right below her apartment in the barn was so important it couldn’t wait until daytime.

Or so he’d thought.

And even as his mind worked on Martha’s problem, part of him was touched that he’d been the second person she’d thought of to call for help. She could have picked anyone—another boarder, her own sister, another friend. But she’d turned to him, and he wasn’t going to let her down.

“Okay. Martha, it will be fine.” He wasn’t sure that was true—colic could be a simple upset stomach in a horse, or it could quickly grow serious and life-threatening.

He thought he heard a quiet sob through the phone. “I didn’t bring Percy’s feed with us. The feed they have here is so similar, I didn’t think it was necessary. They said it would be okay.”

Ah. Most horses could take a slight change in feed, but some horses were sensitive. And that plus the stress of being away from home could certainly start a horse colicking. Poor Percy.

“Okay. I’m going to come to you, okay? You’re only forty-five minutes away, and I can get there in thirty this time of night. Keep trying to get Percy up, and walk him if you can. Just don’t let him roll. If it’s serious we can get the vet over.”

With a few more reassurances, he hung up and sprang into action. He left a note in the kitchen for his sister, thought about texting Bronwen, then decided against it in case he could resolve everything before she woke up—no sense in adding to the stress of her day. He’d call her by the time they were supposed to meet at the barn.

The roads were deserted this time of the morning, and he made it to Old Oak in decent time. He found Martha in a stall in the dark, Percy curled up on the bedding. He was breathing heavily but turned his head and whickered a greeting at Ian as he quietly entered the stall.

“Hey, big boy, feeling a little under the weather?” He crouched down next to the horse and was almost knocked over by Martha, who threw her arms around him.

“Oh my God, thank you for coming!” She released him and sat back on her heels, tears in her eyes. “I didn’t know what to do.”

He gave her a reassuring smile. “It’s no problem. Let’s see if we can get him up and walking, okay? And I’ll leave a message for Dr. Forster.”

Morning Song’s vet knew Percy, and he should be willing to come to Old Oak that morning. And the barn staff would be arriving shortly, if they needed additional help. Percy didn’t look like he had much more than a bad tummy ache, but Ian wanted to be careful. He knew how much the horse meant to Martha, and how worried she was.

Percy was, however, as stubborn as ever, and it took some time to convince him to get up off the comfy bedding and to his feet. And even longer to get him out of the stall and walking. By the time Martha had him in the barn aisle, it was past the time he was supposed to meet Bronwen at the barn.

He left her a detailed voicemail and hoped she checked her phone soon. With a sinking feeling, he realized that at best he’d be able to meet her at the show before her class. At worst, he’d miss it entirely and she’d have to go alone. He groaned and his stomach clenched as if he was colicking himself. He’d promised Bronwen he’d be there for her today—and he knew how she felt about broken promises.

He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again. Surely she’d understand? She cared about the Morning Song horses more deeply than anything. If one of them was away from home and sick, surely helping them was the priority?

Bronwen could handle a small schooling show on her own, no problem. But he’d promised...

There was nothing to do about it, though. Percy’s health had to come first, and all he could do was hope that Bronwen could forgive him.