The Grump Whisperer (Morningsong Farm #1)

Eighteen

B ronwen drew Hades to a halt in the center of the ring and saluted the judge, who sat just outside the end of the enclosed area. Then she loosened the reins so the horse under her could stretch his neck out and relax as they walked out, dressage test finished.

She resisted the urge to raise her fist in triumph. Hades had been an absolute angel that morning, everything from loading into the trailer to handling the—admittedly very small—crowds at the show to the test itself.

They’d completed one of the training level tests, a low level meant for young or inexperienced horses. Just simple walk, trot and canter and a few circles. Nothing beyond Hades’s current training level. But even so, you never knew how a horse would perform away from home, or on any given day. Luckily, this particular show had been remarkably laid-back even for a local schooling show, quiet and uneventful, and there had been plenty of space in the field set aside for entrants like her to park the trailer away from other horses and their people.

There had been one moment when it looked like a man was going to approach them as Bronwen tightened the girth before swinging up in the saddle. Hades had stiffened and backed away, but the man continued past them, and after a few moments and several treats, Hades relaxed again. She was always astonished at horses’ ability to remember, and also to forgive and put things behind them.

People were so much more complicated.

All morning she’d refused to dwell on what she might or might not have to forgive. Hades deserved her full attention, and whenever she found herself scanning the cars in the barn parking lot for Ian’s, she told herself firmly that whether he arrived or not, her main concern was the horse and the riding.

Everything else could wait.

And now, as she dismounted and led Hades back to the trailer, she tried to focus on the triumph she felt. How far they’d both come, Hades and herself. They’d both learned to manage their ever-present fear and try something new. And they’d succeeded beautifully. The test had been obedient and correct, and Hades’s little snort of happiness as they exited the ring made her smile.

She wasn’t at all surprised to learn, after she’d walked Hades around while the remaining tests were completed, that they’d won their class. She took the blue ribbon with a grin, making sure to keep her body between the man handing out prizes and Hades. But the stallion barely batted an eyelid.

How far they’d come.

On the short ride home she thought about that feeling of triumph, of satisfaction in showing a horse to their best advantage. Remembered that feeling—she’d had it as she worked with Charlie and moved up the levels of hunter shows. Knowing that they were improving together, that she could ensure kind and compassionate training and treatment, that her horse was content and secure in his work and the challenges set before him.

She’d missed that.

And she realized that Ian—whatever the hell was going on with him—was right. She loved her work at Morning Song. Loved the daily care of the horses. But she wanted more, and she was kidding herself if she claimed she didn’t.

She had no real interest in competition herself. It was the horse that interested her: How could she work with individual animals to train them to be their best? To find the right discipline, the right atmosphere, the right rider and owner for their talent and personality?

She was good at that—and she wanted to do more of it. Whether she could pursue training while also working at Morning Song was a question. She loved the boarders and their horses, but she was no riding teacher, and there wasn’t much call for training aside from the occasional request for advice. And there wasn’t room for her to start bringing in younger horses to train and sell—if Ian’s sister was even willing to let her run a business out of her farm.

She sighed. The idea of leaving Morning Song sat like a brick in her stomach. But she couldn’t ignore what called her. She’d wasted too much time doing just that. Hiding, just as Ian said.

She needed to be brave enough to leave behind what she loved, in order to find where she belonged.

And maybe Ian was onto something there, too. If he really needed to leave in order to find his way toward a life where he could be happy, was he any different from her? She’d still yell at him for not telling her, though. For not sitting down and discussing his decision before pulling out the moving boxes. For packing up and leaving her to fend for herself when he’d promised to support her.

But she’d done it. She’d done what she thought she might never do again—successfully ride a horse she’d trained in a show. She’d proved to herself that this seed of an idea she had for her future was possible. And she’d done it on her own.

Whatever Ian’s plans were, they wouldn’t detract from the direction she wanted to go. If he was leaving, if he’d really let her down the way it seemed he had, she’d nurse her broken heart, then pick herself up and figure out the next steps.

She pulled the trailer into the farm drive and parked near the barn. As she backed Hades down the ramp, she glanced around. The day had warmed up considerably since that morning. The sun shone and everything smelled of grass and mud and warming earth.

But no one was riding in the outdoor arena, despite the nice weather and the fact that it was the weekend. Horses grazed out in the fields, but there wasn’t a single person to be seen.

Curious, she led Hades into his stall and unclipped the lead rope from the halter. It was quiet inside—too quiet. Usually, Sunday midday was prime barn socializing time: people and horses in the aisle, getting ready for a ride or relaxing after one. Jokes and laughter and the ever-present sound of horses being horses.

It was unnerving when all of that was absent.

Giving Hades a pat, she went to find out what was going on. As she walked down the aisle, she noticed movement in Percy’s stall, even though all of the horses should have been turned out this time of day.

It was Brian, slowly stroking Percy’s neck and murmuring to him. The horse stood with his eyes closed as if he was listening to every word.

“What’s going on?” she asked, and both Percy and Brian turned their heads toward her.

“Bronwen! How was the show?”

“Good,” she said impatiently. “Where is everyone?”

Brian’s phone rang in his pocket, and he gave her an apologetic look and gestured toward the tack room.

Concerned, Bronwen headed for the door to the tack room. When she opened it, she stood there for several moments taking in the scene.

Martha lay sprawled on the couch, and Ian in the chair. Both appeared to be fast asleep. Scott and Olivia were by the coffee maker, mugs in hand, talking softly. They both turned toward her as she blinked at them.

Olivia gave her a little wave. “Bronwen!”

At the sound of her name, Ian started in the chair and opened his eyes. The blue irises were red-rimmed and he rubbed them as he stood.

“Bronwen—you’re back.” His voice was rough and thick with sleep. “Thank God. I’ve been trying to call you all day.”

She winced inwardly. She’d forgotten until just now that she’d left her phone in her apartment. Anything could have happened at the farm and she wouldn’t have known it. But she’d been so upset by what she’d found at the house that she hadn’t been thinking clearly earlier that morning.

Ian took several steps toward her, and she turned and walked toward the feed room, gesturing for him to follow. She was still upset, and angry, and unsure of what she wanted to say. Ian had left her on her own when he’d promised to be there that day, and after sending her back to her apartment to sleep last night, he’d started packing up his life here without a word about it to her.

He followed her into the small room as she’d known he would, closing the door behind him with a soft click. She whirled to face him.

“What the hell, Ian?”

“Bronwen, I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to flake out on you. I mean, I didn’t , not really. I—”

She held up a hand. “We can get to the show later. I want to know why you’re packing your stuff to leave. You weren’t even going to tell me?”

Realization and something that she thought was regret flashed over his features. He was surprised and unhappy that she’d seen what he was doing up at the house—but what did he expect? Of course she went looking for him. Of course she was upset by what she’d found.

Pain shot through her, right in her chest, and she reached out to grab the counter near the sink just for something to hold on to. She’d known it would hurt. She’d told herself that Ian was free to make his own decisions about his life, that he was only doing what he’d said he’d do all along, that she would get through it and move on with her own life.

But right now, it hurt .

“Ian.” Her voice shook despite her best efforts. “Are you leaving? Just like that? You promise me you’ll help me at the show on your horse, then instead just leave me to do it on my own while you...what? Pack up and go?”

She knew she was missing something. That she should shut up and let him explain. But she was hurt, and she’d been holding in all that emotion since she left the farm that morning. She couldn’t stop it from coming out now like water through a burst dam.

As she watched, he leaned back against the wall, his expression weary and hands shoved into his pockets.

“No,” he said, and she watched his chest rise and fall as he took a deep breath.

“I looked for you,” she couldn’t help saying before he could continue. “I went up to the house to look for you. You were gone, and boxes were all over the place.”

He nodded, and that same pain sliced right through her.

But then he said, “I’m not going anywhere.” He ran a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I haven’t really slept, so I know I’m probably not going to make a lot of sense. But, Bronwen, I am so sorry I missed the show. You have no idea. I tried texting and calling—”

“I left my phone here,” she said in a small voice. What had she been thinking?

“Ah.” The shadow of a smile played around his lips. “I thought maybe you’d just decided I’d let you down and you never wanted to speak to me again.”

There had been a little of that, too, she had to admit.

With another breath, he kept going. “Percy colicked away at the show Martha took him to. Last night.”

Bronwen’s heart stuttered in her chest. “Oh no! Why didn’t she call me? Poor Martha.”

“She didn’t want to wake you up the night before the show, so she called the house instead. I’d already been up late because my sister showed up last night.”

“Wait—what? Your sister’s here?” She glanced around as if Ian’s sister might jump out of one of the feed storage bins.

Ian nodded. “She was still sleeping when I got back with Martha and Percy. Too much traveling, I guess.” He yawned and rubbed his eyes again. “Anyway, I went to help Martha, and we made sure Percy was okay for the trip home. When we got back, everyone here chipped in keeping an eye on him while Martha took a nap. And me, I guess—I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“Oh.”

Her mind was spinning. The horses’ well-being came first, always. She knew that. And maybe she could have guessed that a sick or injured horse would be the only thing that could keep Ian from his promise to her. But she had never thought that one of the boarders would reach out to him instead of her for help. It had been kind of Martha to not want to disturb her, and kinder still of Ian to jump out of bed in the middle of the night to help.

He met her gaze, his eyes full of remorse she was starting to realize he had no need to feel. “I’m so sorry I let you down, Bronwen. I can’t tell you how sorry. But I couldn’t just ignore Martha, or Percy.” He swallowed visibly.

“Of course,” she said without thinking.

There was no question that the horses came first, and she would have thought less of Ian if he’d chosen anything else over Percy’s health. And then it hit her like an avalanche—Ian hadn’t let her down. He’d done the only thing he could do, and he’d tried to reach her. If it hadn’t been for her own forgetfulness, she would have gotten his messages.

Relief and her own remorse had tears pricking her eyes. He had never meant to break his promise. But—

“The boxes,” she whispered.

Ian grimaced. “That probably looked pretty bad—but I’m not packing, Bronwen. Not unless you tell me you want me to. I’d—Well...” He blushed then, actually blushed , his cheeks bright pink. “I never actually un packed, is the thing. It’s silly—I did bring some stuff with me when I came here, but just threw it all into that room off the living room. I didn’t want to remember my life before. Or maybe I didn’t want to let myself be comfortable here. Or both. I don’t really know. But last night I thought, what am I doing?”

His gaze darted away from her, toward the window over the feed room sink.

“I don’t want to punish myself, or run away from the things I love. Not anymore. I want to start my life again. So I started unpacking. Finally.”

His eyes returned to hers.

“You were... un packing,” she repeated.

He nodded. “I just thought... Time to get my head out of my ass and learn to live with my past and my future.” He gave a short laugh. “And then my sister showed up on the doorstep.”

Bronwen squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them. She was having trouble processing all of this.

“Hold on. Can we...? Can you...?” Tears threatened again and she buried her face in her hands. Immediately, strong arms came around her as Ian crossed the short distance between them and gathered her to him.

“It’s okay,” he said soothingly, his voice still scratchy from lack of sleep. “I’m so sorry, Bronwen. I wouldn’t have broken my promise to you for anything else. And I’m not leaving—not unless and until you want me to.”

They were exactly the words she’d wished in the most private part of her mind that he’d say, and she had barely dared hope to hear them.

She’d been...maybe more than a little foolish.

His fingers tangled in the hair at the back of her neck as he held her close, gently rubbing and soothing. All of the anxiety and anger and confusion of the past few hours found their way out of her body in tears, and they stood there together while she took several deep breaths to calm herself. Everything she’d feared hadn’t come to pass. Ian was here with her, holding her. He cared enough for the boarders and their horses to drive out to another barn when he should have been sleeping. And instead of leaving, he was...staying.

Eventually, she raised her head. “I’m sorry. I was so angry because I thought you’d stood me up for the show, and that you’d decided to leave without telling me, but...I should have asked. I shouldn’t have assumed—”

“You should have brought your phone with you,” Ian said wryly. “What if you’d had an emergency?”

She winced. “I know, I know. I never go anywhere without it, but I was flustered and running late, and I didn’t want to turn back.”

“And you were upset,” he added quietly.

“I was. I wasn’t really thinking straight.”

“It’s okay to be upset. Even if I’d been able to reach you, you were counting on me to be with you at the show. There was a good reason I wasn’t there, but it would still have been upsetting.”

Bronwen sniffed and pushed her hair back from her face. “You did the right thing, though.”

He smiled at her, and she couldn’t help taking his face in her hands and kissing him. He groaned into her mouth, as if he felt the same relief and happiness and needs that she did.

“I’m glad you think so,” he said when they finally broke apart. “I was worried.”

She frowned at him. “I’d never blame you for putting a horse first,” she said firmly. “I was just...kind of a mess.”

“You were nervous about the show,” he said gently.

They’d never really talked about how she’d felt leading up to her first show in years. She knew Ian was concerned that it was too much, too soon, but Bronwen had been determined. She’d shut down any thoughts of nerves or discussion of whether or not she could do it, as if ignoring her feelings would keep them from being a problem.

“Yeah.” She bit her lip. “I was, and I let it mess with my head. I think I was more scared than I thought.”

He lifted his hand to her face and traced her bottom lip with his thumb. She shivered, meeting his darkening gaze.

“You know what that makes me want to do,” he said, his voice deeper even than it had been when he’d first woken in the tack room.

A knock at the feed room door startled them both, although Ian didn’t step away. And she held him close, as if she was afraid he’d disappear somehow. Still worried that what he was saying was too good to be true.

“Ian, are you in here?” an unfamiliar woman’s voice asked. “There’s a person sleeping in the tack room—is that normal? And three other people are together in one horse’s stall—” The woman broke off as she opened the door and saw Ian and Bronwen. “Oh! I’m so sorry.”

Bronwen took a step back and tried to subtly wipe her eyes.

“Anne, you’re up. Finally.” Ian’s voice sounded amused and mildly irritated at the interruption. This must be his sister, then.

Bronwen’s cheeks heated with embarrassment. This was hardly how she wanted to meet the woman who meant so much to Ian. Not to mention her new boss.

“Oh, are you Bronwen?” The woman was much shorter than Ian, but had the same blond hair and light blue eyes. Her smile radiated humor, but there were shadows in her eyes much like Ian’s. “I’m so glad to meet you—I’ve heard such good things.”

Bronwen glanced at Ian.

“From me, yes,” he laughed. “But I think she means from the former owner.”

“That’s right,” Anne said, holding out her hand for Bronwen to shake, which she did. “Ian hasn’t told me nearly enough about anything—but Ruth said you’re the best barn manager around.”

“Um...thanks.” Bronwen tried to accept the compliment gracefully, but her mind was drawn back to her decision of earlier that morning. She probably wouldn’t be at Morning Song for much longer.

“And no,” Ian continued, “we don’t usually sleep in the tack room or congregate in the stalls, but we had a colic situation last night.”

Bronwen couldn’t help but notice how he used the word we —had he finally accepted that he was part of this community as much as she was?

“Right! I did get your note,” Anne said. “Then I went back to bed since you were gone. I was exhausted. But can I help now?”

Ian shrugged. “You could see if it looks like Percy can be turned out in the field. He seems to be doing okay now. But ask Martha first, if she’s awake. We need to keep an eye on him for the rest of the day.”

Anne gave a little salute, then grinned at Bronwen. “Nice to meet you. And, Ian, make sure you tell her about our plans if you haven’t already. Bronwen, we have big ideas! I can’t wait to talk to you about them.”

Ian made a face as his sister left the room, closing the door behind her.

“Big plans?” Bronwen was sure her eyebrows were up by her hairline.

Ian ran a hand through his hair. “Right. I hadn’t really gotten that far.”

“I think I’m going to leave Morning Song,” Bronwen blurted, then grimaced. “I mean, I have big plans, too.”

She had no idea what Ian and his sister could be planning for the farm, but it seemed likely she wouldn’t be around to see it. She just hoped Ian would still want to be with her wherever she ended up.

Now Ian’s eyebrows lifted skyward. “Oh?” He took her hands and pulled her back to him. “You know I support whatever big plans you might have. But you may want to hear ours first.”

Bronwen swallowed. “Okay.”

He placed a kiss on her forehead, then met her eyes. “Anne’s always been interested in horse breeding, since we were young. She loved all that stuff—bloodlines, matching the right horses together, training the little ones. And I guess she’s decided that’s what she wants to do—here, at Morning Song.”

Bronwen stared at him, a sort of panic rising from her chest to her throat. “But—”

Ian nodded. “Yeah. The boarders. I had the same reaction.” His expression was serious, sincere as he explained, “I told her I’d never support breaking up the community here. And she got it.” He pushed a lock of hair out of her face, his fingers trailing down her cheek. “She suggested building a breeding facility—another barn, and more turnout fields. And leave the boarding barn the way it is. There’s plenty of room.”

Bronwen blinked in surprise. “That’s...that’s a huge project.”

One corner of Ian’s mouth turned out. “My sister’s good at big ideas and following her instincts. She wants me to help.”

And all of a sudden, she could see it. Could envision everything that Anne had planned, understood what Ian was saying. What he was offering. And it stole her breath from her lungs so thoroughly that she couldn’t speak, only stare at that man in front of her and hope it wasn’t a dream.

“And luckily,” Ian continued when she didn’t reply, his voice a little unsteady, a little uncertain now, “I know someone who has a real talent for training, and who loves this farm even more than I’ve come to.”

“Me?” Bronwen squeaked ridiculously, as if she didn’t know exactly what he was saying. She just couldn’t believe it.

Ian smiled, his hand still against her cheek, and all of her hesitation evaporated like the frost in the fields in the sun.

“You.” He cleared his throat. “Bronwen, I want to stay here and build this dream with my sister. I’ve never really had a home, and neither has she. Not like this. And I want...I want you to do whatever your heart calls you to, obviously. But if you’re interested, this dream could include you. My dreams do include you. Us.”

She took a breath, winding her hands around his neck.

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it clear how I felt—or what I wanted,” he continued. “I didn’t want to scare you off. I knew you were wary of trusting again, and I was afraid to just dump my feelings on you, in case...” He broke off with a wry smile. “In case you turned me down. But I thought maybe with time, you’d warm up to the idea.”

“Oh,” she said a little breathlessly. She understood; she really did. It was scary enough to reveal your feelings and hopes to someone. Knowing they might not be ready to hear them only made it that much worse. “I...um...I hoped you’d decide to stay. I hoped...I hoped for exactly this.”

Ian let out a breath in a relieved rush, his arms coming around her again. “Then I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m so sorry I made you think for a moment that I wanted anything else.”

Bronwen let it all sink in. He’d felt the same as her for...how long? It didn’t matter. They’d both avoided being honest about their feelings because they were afraid of rejection. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

“I was going to try to set up a training business for young horses,” she said. “And it broke my heart that it meant I’d have to leave this farm.” She glanced away. “It also broke my heart that I thought you were leaving, and I’d have to do it all without you.”

He leaned his forehead against hers, their breath mingling. Bronwen worried that if she moved, if she broke the spell of this moment, it all might disappear. As if he could read her thoughts, Ian gave her a squeeze with his arms and a quick, firm kiss.

“You don’t have to do anything without me, if you don’t want to,” he said. “I know you can do whatever you want. But if you can forgive me for letting you down and for making you think I was leaving, I’ll happily stay with you for as long as you’ll have me.”

“Ian,” she breathed and lifted her chin to look up at him, meeting his clear blue gaze. “There’s nothing to forgive.” He shook his head, and she placed her fingers over his lips before he could contradict her. “Nothing. You did what you thought was right—Percy, the show, taking your time with us. Everything.”

His relief was palpable, clear in the way his shoulders relaxed, the way his eyes softened.

“And the farm?” he asked.

She smiled, and as she thought of all the possible futures in front of them, joy bubbled in her chest like water in the stream down past the turnout fields, bright and clear.

“Well. I think I can stand to work with adorable baby horses, be with the man I love and train young horses just like I wanted to.”

His smile matched hers. “It doesn’t sound bad, does it?”

“Not bad at all. Especially since the first stallion on-site won his dressage class today,” she added.

“What?” Ian grabbed her into a hug and spun her around. “You won? That’s incredible!”

She laughed and steadied herself with her hands on Ian’s shoulders. “Ian! Yes, we won, mostly thanks to Hades. I think he’ll do just fine—at anything we set him to.”

“And so will we,” Ian replied. “We’ll be just fine wherever all this takes us.”

Tears pricked at her eyes again, but she blinked them back. Now wasn’t a time for tears. It was a time for laughter, and planning, and dreaming.

Ian leaned down and kissed her. “I love you, Bronwen Jones. Thank you for dragging me out of my darkness and into the life I didn’t even know I wanted.”

She took his hand and tugged him toward the feed room door.

“I love you, too, Ian Kingston. But I think we’d better go tell everyone what’s in store for them.” She laughed again. “I can’t wait to see their expressions.”

“Then let’s go, before Anne spills it all.” Ian opened the door and shepherded her into the barn aisle, where warm sunlight streamed through the wide-open doors, illuminating dust motes like drifting stars. The sound of happy chatter and laughter came from the tack room. “Let’s tell them together.”