Groaning, she stretched out in the chair. Bagheera and Baloo had given up on her hours ago, sprawling on the threadbare couch in a sleepy pile of fur. Figaro perched on the top of the recliner, occasionally raising her head to give the dogs a long-suffering look. Maybe Figaro would get along with Phoenix. They were both disgusted by their animal companions, preferring the beauty of their own company.
This past week had been a bit of a challenge. Seemed Phoenix still wasn’t comfortable with any stablemates. Oh, he’d learned to silently suffer. He’d even stopped chasing Wheezy and Bolt away when they tried to come up and play. Yes, technically he could be around other animals now without reverting to fear or violent aggression, but she wasn’t sure if he’d be able to transition yet to a fully stocked barn with other racing horses consistently around him, battling for space.
Aidan was trying different techniques and introducing various animals to see if any made a difference. So far, no success. She’d even gone to visit neighboring farms to borrow Esther the pig; a goat named Molly; and a trio of sweet-natured cats, Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cottontail. The horse hadn’t been amused by his new visitors, and after Phoenix chased them out of the barn and tossed crap at them—hay, apple cores, and even water—Aidan was almost out of ideas.
Too bad Flower had gotten hurt by the horse’s previous rejections to play. She was such a friendly little mare, frisky and always looking to make a new best friend. They shouldn’t have moved her out of the stall until—
Harper shot up from the chair. Shit. Had Flower been properly locked up? She’d been so damn busy with other stuff and asked Owen to lock up. She’d meant to swing by and check on him—she still didn’t trust Owen completely—but left to attack paperwork. Nibbling on her lip, she grabbed her phone and glanced at the time.
Past eleven.
She could text Ethan, but then she’d end up disturbing Mia. Aidan was at the hotel, and she wasn’t comfortable contacting Elmo yet. God knew the man barely spoke, refused to text, and still had an ancient flip phone.
Damn it. She’d just go to the stable herself. It wouldn’t take long, and she’d finish the bills tomorrow.
She moved to the door. The dogs’ heads lifted in question. “I’ll be right back. I have to go to the stables, and then we’re going to bed. Okay?”
They flopped back down on the sofa.
It was a habit to tell her crew exactly where she was going and what she was doing. They were pretty much the best roommates ever—they never annoyed her with questions or comments.
She hopped in her beat-up black truck and made the two-minute drive down the path that led straight to the barns. Jumping out, she went into the first barn, giving a whistle to alert the horses. Flower was safely locked up in her stall and seemed surprised to see her. Good. Owen had finally followed through on a task. Maybe things were getting better.
She did a quick check on all the other horses in the first barn and was headed back to her truck when she noticed a light burning in the main barn ahead. She frowned and walked over.
Who’d be checking on Phoenix this late? Was Ethan having bad dreams again? He’d seek out the horses sometimes when the memories of his past hit him hard. But since Mia, his midnight visits had practically disappeared.
She pushed the door open.
Aidan lay in a pile of hay outside Phoenix’s stall. Head propped up on his elbow, he was reading something on his phone, legs crossed at the ankles. A ragged flannel blanket lay beside him, along with a spiral notebook and pen. A battered olive-green duffel bag was open at his feet. When she stepped into the barn, his gaze rose and crashed into hers.
Golden light glowed so fierce and so bright, she stood still in shock. She caught the raw want in his eyes, which was usually carefully banked, and her body softened in response. An uncomfortable heat burned between her legs. She tried to rally, realizing she wasn’t wearing a bra and probably had that fresh-out-of-bed look. “What are you doing here?” Her voice came out like a husky invitation, so she cleared her throat. “Is Phoenix okay?”
He sat up. “Yeah, he’s fine. I couldn’t sleep and figured I’d do some work. Check on the horses. You?”
She frowned, taking a few steps closer. “I asked Owen to put Flower in her stall and lock up the barn, but then realized I never double-checked. I live only a few minutes from here, so I figured I’d come back.”
“Did he do his job?”
“Surprisingly, yes.”
He nodded. “Good.”
Her frown deepened. “Your hotel is twenty minutes away. You came all the way back this late because you couldn’t sleep?”
His gaze swept to the side. The energy between them shifted and moved, and she sensed something important hovered on his lips—a secret she was both desperate and terrified to hear. “I don’t do well in hotels,” he finally said.
She closed the rest of the distance and leaned against the scratchy wooden post, looking down at him. She should mind her own business. She should nod politely, walk away, and go home to her bed. The question flew out of her mouth, refusing to be caged. “Why?”
He muttered something in Irish. “Let’s just say I’m the most comfortable in a barn.”
A short silence fell. She allowed the familiar sounds of the barn to wrap around her. The soft hush of horses’ breath. The gentle creaks of wood. The occasional snort or shift of position. The brush of hay over the concrete. They mingled with the outside harmony of crickets and the occasional bright flash of light from the fireflies.
“This is my favorite place in the world,” she admitted. “I love my home, but when I step into the barn, I feel like I’m returning to the best part of myself. A place where I’m completely understood and capable. I feel strong here. Silly, right?”
He regarded her in the dim light for a while. He rubbed his jaw, as if caught between his own desire to share and the walls he’d built high to keep everyone out.
She studied the beautiful lines of his face, the squint around his eyes, the firming of those perfectly defined lips. And she wondered if one of her biggest regrets in her life would be not knowing how this man kissed.
“I came from a big family. My father had left, and my mom tried to raise four headstrong boys. We learned early on there wasn’t any money, and if we wanted to eat, we needed to work. So I cut out of school early and found work at a horse stable. We had a lot of racetracks and horse farms around, so it seemed like easy, plentiful work. I had no idea the moment I stepped into a barn, my life would change.”
“How old were you?”
“Fifteen.”
She sucked in a breath. “You were so young.”
“Didn’t feel like it. Each one of us left home looking for work the moment it was possible. I had no money for a long time, so my home was wherever I traveled. Sometimes I’d hook up with an owner or trainer who’d give me a bed or bunk for a few weeks. Sometimes not. I got used to sleeping in the barn. All I needed was a blanket and some clean hay, and I was comfortable.” He shrugged. “When I began to study training, I slept by the horse. It was a bonding ritual for both of us.”
Her heart ached, imagining a young boy on his own, not having a safe place to stay. She couldn’t imagine being homeless. “You weren’t afraid?”