Page 36 of Awaiting the Storm (Wildhaven #1)

T he prompt on my screen blinks, beckoning me to type something, but my head’s too cluttered to put together a coherent sentence.

I’ve been staring at the same numbers for what feels like hours now, but in reality, it’s been more like twenty minutes.

Invoices, bank statements, logistics schedules, material deliveries, employee holiday rotation—it’s all a blur.

I rub my eyes and lean back in my chair, letting out a breath that feels like it’s been sitting in my chest for a week.

The door swings open.

“I swear,” Holland announces as he barrels in, “time flies when you’re having fun. Pharaoh’s Secret’s chariot is arriving next week. Just in time for Thanksgiving.”

I blink at him, slowly.

“The jockey who’s been working with him in Kentucky swears he’s got the biggest attitude he’s ever seen on four legs.

Like he knows he’s descended from royalty.

Gorgeous animal though. I can’t wait for you to meet him.

” He steps just inside the office, his arms full of papers, and continues talking.

“Oh, and Priscilla finally heard from Waylon. Damn boy left a voicemail at two in the morning, drunk as a skunk, but he might be coming home for Thanksgiving.”

“Might?” I ask.

“Well, you know how he is.” Holland waves a hand.

“Said he misses the old place, which could mean he’s homesick or he just wants a plate of his mother’s cornbread dressing and sweet potato casserole.

I ain’t holdin’ my breath. I just hate it when he gets Priscilla’s hopes up and doesn’t follow through. ”

He drops the stack of papers on my desk, then walks over to one of the leather chairs and plops down.

“You picking Marcia up, or is she driving herself?”

I stare at him.

He stares back.

“What?” he asks.

I shake my head, trying to snap out of this mood. “Sorry. What’d you say?”

“I said”—he leans forward, steepling his fingers, eyes narrowing as he studies me—“are you picking Marcia up, or is she driving herself down from Jackson Hole?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“You don’t know?” he repeats, voice a little softer now. “Well, Priscilla’s got her room all ready in the big house. You want us to go fetch her?”

I look away, glance back at the laptop screen even though I’m not really seeing it. “Yeah, maybe.”

He sighs. “You haven’t heard from Matty, have you?”

I don’t answer at first. There’s no point in pretending.

“No,” I finally say.

Holland lets out a long breath, sits back in the chair, and shakes his head. “Hell, Caison. I’m sorry. I figured after a few days, she might cool down.”

“Yeah,” I say, rubbing my jaw. “Me too.”

He watches me like he’s not sure what to say next, then shifts forward again, elbows on his knees.

“You want me to go over there? I could talk to her. Tell her it was my idea from the start. Hell, I’ll take the blame for the whole damn thing if it helps.

She knows me. Knows how cutthroat I can be,” he says and then chuckles.

“I’ve never been her favorite person anyway. ”

It’s a generous offer. One I appreciate more than he knows. But I shake my head.

“I appreciate it,” I say, “but no.”

“You sure? I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

“I know.” I glance out the office window, toward the training paddock, where the colts are running laps.

Dani standing in the center with a training stick.

The rope floating through the air. “But I don’t want to lie to her.

Or play with her emotions. She knows I want to see her.

She knows I want to talk. But it’s gotta be her choice. ”

“And you’re just gonna let her keep silent?”

“It’s not about letting her do anything,” I say. “It’s about respecting her enough to accept what she decides. I’ve reached out several times. All I can do now is wait.”

Holland leans back, his face full of sympathy and something else—guilt maybe.

“She’s tough,” he says after a pause. “Stubborn as they come. Has been since she was just a little thing. Got that Storm pride running through her veins.”

“I know.”

“But she’s not heartless, son. I’m sure she’s hurting.”

“That makes two of us.”

He falls silent again. The only sounds in the office are the rustling of papers as the heat kicks on and blows from the vent overhead, mingling with the distant calls of the ranch hands through the barns.

“You haven’t been yourself this week,” he finally says.

I huff out a bitter laugh. “No, I haven’t.” I cut my eyes to him. “That obvious, huh?”

“Only to folks who know you.” He studies me for a long second. “Which isn’t many. But I see it.”

I nod. I feel it too. Every day that goes by without hearing her voice, without seeing her name light up my phone, feels like a rock in my chest. I’ve never felt anything quite like it before. Not even when things ended badly with other women in my life. That was regret. This is something else.

I keep thinking back to that night at The Soused Cow.

How beautiful she was when she walked through that door—beautiful but guarded.

I watched her walls come down brick by brick that night.

And then the night of Albert’s medical scare, another brick.

Every time I looked at her, that wall got smaller.

Every time I touched her—until it wasn’t there anymore.

She let me see the real, raw Maitland Storm, and it was sweetness and fire and everything I’d ever wanted.

“I saw the real Matty, and I fell hard. I thought maybe she felt the same. That she saw the real me.”

“She did,” Holland says quietly. “I have no doubt about that.”

“Then why does it feel like I lost something that I barely got the chance to hold? ”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he looks toward the floor, like he’s gathering his words.

“Because it was real,” he says finally. “And when something’s real, it’s fragile. Fake can stand a lot. It can handle being tossed around and neglected now and then. But you don’t get many chances to screw up real.”

I nod slowly. That sounds about right.

“She’s got every right to be angry,” I admit. “I told myself I could keep the business separate. That I could get close enough to convince her to sell without getting too close. But I couldn’t. I didn’t just blur the line. I erased it.”

“I’m sorry about that, son. I had no idea when I had you go after Wildhaven Storm …

” Holland says and then stops and shakes his head.

“Nah, that’s not true. I did know. I mean, look at you.

Smart, handsome, and dripping in that Galloway charm.

I knew exactly what I was doing, sending you over there. You were my secret weapon.”

I snort. “Well, it worked.”

“I knew it would. Just not that damn good. I need to be more careful, wielding you in the future.”

“Yeah”—my voice cracks a little on the word—“remember that.”

There’s a knock on the door. One of the junior trainers pokes his head in to let me know the vet’s here early and we need to get the new geldings into the holding pen. I nod and tell him I’ll be right out.

When the door closes, Holland stands and crosses to me, placing a hand on my shoulder. “It’ll sort itself out, Caison. You’re not the first man to have to sit and wait while a woman makes him suffer.”

I smirk despite myself. “You speaking from experience, old man?”

“Boy, I could write a damn book.” He squeezes my shoulder once, then starts for the door. “Don’t lose hope. You’re a good man, with good instincts. Even if you got shit timing.”

He disappears for a second, and then his head pops back in. “And call your mother and figure out how she’s getting here.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” I say as I give him a mock salute.

When he’s gone, I sink back into the chair and glance out the window again before closing my laptop and picking up the phone to call Mom as I head out to help corral some horses.

Inside, I’m a mess, but I’ve got to pull my head out of my ass .

The ball’s in Matty’s court now. I can’t chase her. I won’t manipulate her. If she wants to talk, she will. If she doesn’t … well then, I’ll have to accept it.

And I’ll love her from afar.

Whether she knows it or not.

Because I’m nothing like fucking Carl.