Harper put the rest of the scone down with shaky fingers. This intervention was horribly intimate, and even though she knew her sister had good intentions, she wasn’t ready to tackle those type of truths.
She just . . . couldn’t.
Her sister’s gaze was fierce, and all mama bear. Harper reached out and took her hand, squeezing it tight. “Thank you for talking with me. I know it comes from a good place. But I can’t do this right now, Ophelia.”
Her sister’s shoulders slumped in defeat. She blew out a hard breath. “Shit. You’re not ready. I get it. But I won’t apologize for trying. You’re my sister, and I love you, and I—” Her voice broke. Pain flickered over her face. “You’ve always been harder to reach. I know something bad happened to you a long time ago. When we were young. I never asked about it because I was afraid if I did, I’d lose you. But I’m here for you, Harp. Anytime you need me. Okay?”
The memory reared up and swallowed Harper whole.
Blinking fast, she rose from the chair and dropped her sister’s hand. “Okay. I gotta go back.”
“Will you do me a favor? I’m singing at Crystal’s on Friday night. Will you come? I want to invite Aidan and Elmo, too. We want to have a bit of a celebration for Phoenix’s win.”
“Sounds good, I’ll let them both know. We could probably use a bit of downtime away from the barn.”
Harper climbed down the stairs, then paused. Keeping her back turned, she spoke to the woods, though she knew her sister heard.
“I love you, too, Ophelia.”
Then she went back to the barns—the one place she always felt safe.
Aidan glanced around the restaurant and wondered if the romantic atmosphere was casting voodoo spells on his heart. Crystal’s was a fancy place decorated in dark wood and rich burgundy, with a glittery chandelier and real china. Tonight, he was glad he’d dressed up and looked nice.
Or maybe it had nothing to do with the restaurant at all.
Maybe it was just Harper Bishop.
He sipped at his IPA and tried to focus on Kyle’s entertaining account of working in Hollywood. It wasn’t as if the man lacked the skill for telling an amazing story. It had more to do with the woman sitting next to him.
She was dressed in her usual jeans but had paired them with a sexy beaded camisole that revealed more than it concealed. Her heeled black boots put her at his exact height. She’d foregone all other makeup except for red-painted lips.
Instead of asking him if she looked good, or if she looked fat, or if he liked her new top, she’d strutted right past him without a second glance and announced she was ready to go.
God, she was glorious. A total sexpot who didn’t give a crap what anyone thought. And now he found himself completely distracted by a million details he wanted to study. The way her dark-brown hair brushed the top of her shoulders. The way her eyes looked almost emerald against her dark lashes. The smoothness of her endless bare skin and sleek muscles revealed for his hungry gaze. The barest brush of her nipples pressing against the flimsy top. The delicious, familiar scent of cocoa butter drifting to his nostrils, making him want to howl like an alpha wolf.
He heard his name uttered from a distance and tried to refocus. “Yeah?”
“Ever think of writing your accounts into a book?” Kyle asked. “Horse stories sell pretty well. The public has always been fascinated by the racing scene.”
Aidan grinned. “I love to read, man, but I despise writing. Besides, my life isn’t all that glamorous. Sure, my last horse won the Irish Derby, but most of my days consisted of boring, routine training methods. Let’s just say I’ve never had a Seabiscuit or Secretariat before.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t stick with Kincaid’s Crown,” Ethan said curiously. “That horse has a lot of wins still in him. What made you want to leave when he was at the height of his career?”
The question brought a tingle of panic. He refused to lie, but hell, he didn’t want to go into the details of why he’d needed to leave. Harper knew the most, which still wasn’t much. He took another sip of beer and shrugged. “It was more of an administrative thing than my personal choice,” he finally said. “The owner decided on another trainer, and I took the opportunity to explore my options. I always like to take on new challenges. It worked out well, or I would’ve never met Phoenix.”
Ethan nodded. Aidan relaxed in his chair. It was a fine line to walk between hiding the real truth without outright lying. Was it time to tell Harper the entire truth of what had happened in Ireland? She trusted him now. He’d be able to explain his side of the story. Now that they were sleeping together, she deserved to know the last of his secrets. He’d just have to take the chance that she’d believe him.
Uneasiness stirred. What if she still fired him? Or believed his ex-partner over him? It was a possibility.
His gut clenched. Maybe it was best to wait, at least until Phoenix won another race. Until he was sure their bond was strong enough for her to truly listen.
Elmo interrupted his thoughts. “Aidan good trainer. He connect with horse’s heart.”
“Where’d you guys meet?” Harper asked. He caught another whiff of her scent and thanked God the tablecloth was long enough to hide his burgeoning anatomy.
“We have bar fight,” Elmo said.
“Oh, I gotta hear this one,” Mia squealed, propping her elbows on the table, as if waiting for a bedtime story. Her sleek black dress and burgundy hair screamed trendy city girl, but Aidan had learned she was more comfortable with Ethan on the farm than anywhere else. “Who won the fight?”
“I did,” Elmo said.
“No, I did,” Aidan said. He gave the jockey a pointed glance. “I knocked out your tooth, remember?”
Elmo glared. “Only loosened it. I gave you black eye.”
Everyone burst into laughter. “What was the fight about, and how did you end up friends?” Kyle asked.
“I met with the owner of a prospective horse I considered training. The guy suggested Elmo as the jockey. I told him Elmo wasn’t tough enough, from what I’d seen and heard around the track, and referred him to a different jockey. Fast-forward a few days later. I was in this dive bar, trying to mind my own business and get fluthered, and Elmo strolls in, asks if my name was Aidan O’Connor, and when I say yes, he belts me in the face.”
“No,” Harper breathed, those red lips pursed in fascination. She must’ve been wearing some type of gloss, because her mouth looked wet and shiny, like a freshly washed ripened apple. His dick pulsed with discomfort, and he shifted his weight, trying to ease off the pressure.
“Yep. So I hit the floor, get up, and start swinging. The bartender throws us both out in the street, and we beat the crap out of each other until neither of us can move.”
“I tell him never talk bad stuff about me again,” Elmo said.
“After we got done bleeding, I gave him the job. Elmo was able to get that horse to place in a big stakes race. No other jockey was able to manage that fiery filly.”
“‘True friendship can afford true knowledge,’” Elmo said seriously. “‘It does not depend on darkness or ignorance.’”