Page 11 of His Wilde Little (Saddle Up #2)

Maybe something had clicked in the last month since he’d been teaching me how to get more comfortable around the horses, or maybe it was something he’d known this entire time about me, but I felt it.

He was offering me stickers to get better at it. I needed stickers like I need oxygen, it was a necessity to life itself, and especially my life. I left him that night in the barn with a head full of idea.

Each evening, on the walk back to the house, my mind would go wild with thoughts about what had happened in the day.

While we hadn’t been any closer in that way, we were so much closer physically.

I leaned into his touches, and I lingered a little catching the occasional wave of his cologne, or natural fragrance that radiated from him.

It was a vanilla musk, the type that I assumed would come from smoking a cigar but filled with vanilla bean instead of tobacco.

Or maybe it was because he was sleeping outside with the horses, and that’s where I drew the line.

He hadn’t slept in the guest house since the horses arrived, only sometimes during the afternoon when I would occupy the stables after the petting zoo crowd died down, and more people wanting to just take pictures of the trees changing color as fall was upon us, I didn’t have to deal with too many people, just my animal friends.

My mom had left me a plate out with food, it was potatoes, beef, peas, some of the anemic looking carrots I assumed were pulled from the garden in the small allotment behind the house, and a side pot of gravy ready to be reheated.

“How are the horses doing?” my father asked, walking into the kitchen and stretching his back. He groaned out. “You know I’d be out there.”

“You should see someone about your back,” I told him, taking the ceramic pot of gravy to the microwave. “We could use a third hand.”

“Surely you’re getting better at handling the horses now,” he said, swotting his newspaper down on the island counter. “I mean, if my grandpa was here, he’d have probably forced you on Mary when she was still spry.”

“And that’s how trauma is formed,” I mumbled.

“Huh?”

I sighed. “Nothing. I was just thinking about how you made all these decisions without consulting anyone, and then the rest of us picked up the slack.”

He returned my sigh, smacking a hand down on the newspaper. “I did this for you, all of you. Horses, like the ones we’ve rescued, they’re bringing income, and we need it. You know we’re not very liquid, everything is tied up in this place.”

Pressing my tongue to the roof of my mouth, pushing at my teeth, I didn’t want to say anything else.

I knew Olivia had been going at him nearly daily for the last month, and we rarely saw each other since the horses quite literally cannibalized all my free time, except for the eight hours in bed, which I set aside a little bit for coloring, and hope I get to play a little too.

“Your brother needs braces,” he continued. “And then he’ll want to go to college, and I—I would like to get some small cottages or cabins built on the land. They would be great money in; we could turn this place into a retreat.”

This was new, although maybe not quite as new because Olivia was right behind him in her sweats, rolling her eyes. Her laptop in her arms and an empty coffee mug clung to with one hand. “You’re not talking about turning this place into a resort again,” she grumbled.

The timer on the microwave beeped, and all I wanted was to eat.

“We’ve got the land,” he said. “We just need the cash flow to get things started.”

She cooed, a smile on her face. “Does he know what you plan on doing to get that?”

“No, what?” I asked as the microwave beeped again. “You’re not selling the alpacas. People love them. I love them.”

“Jace, I don’t know how profitable they are in the long term,” he said. “We only get to harvest their wool or whatever once a year. Other than that, they’re not all that great.”

“Did you just come in here to annoy me?” I asked.

“That’s not even the part I was thinking,” Olivia said with that smile still on her face, so annoying to look back at me. “If the horses don’t make good studs, he’s thinking of putting them up for auction at the Saddle Up event.”

That was news. I knew he wanted to try and breed them and what-not, but to sell them, to get rid of all of them, and—and Lorenzo, that was news, and I didn’t like it, even though the horses weren’t something I particularly liked.

I was beginning to form attachments… to Lorenzo, and he was attached to the horses.

“It’s not a done deal,” he said. “But it’s going to cost a small fortune for us to get the horses down there in the first place. And then, we need to be making money somehow. It’ll be nothing short of a miracle if we don’t go bankrupt before then.”

Olivia scoffed. “And now you’re just being dramatic.”

“Did you just follow me in to argue again?” he said to her.

The microwave beeped a third time, and that was my cue.

I took the pot of gravy out with a kitchen towel and replaced it with the plate of food.

I was getting out of this kitchen as soon as possible.

“I’m gonna eat in my room,” I said, but it didn’t stop them from trying to bring me into their argument with those leading questions of what do you think, Jace?

My room was my safe space. It was where I could unwind and put on a cute onesie, plug in my earphones, listen to some Britney Spears and color, or play, it was all I needed after a long day.

I was already being tested around the horses, and around Lorenzo, being tested at home was like one of the rings of Hell, and I didn’t know which, but I didn’t like it.

I didn’t stay up long after eating, passing out with my stuffies around me, and one of them trying it’s best to get me acting like my dad with a sore back from a long night of digging me in the spine.

My routine was out of whack, and I needed to get it back on track. I started my morning by assessing my sticker chart. I now had more than enough to get my play farm of animals, but with all the talk about money troubles, I didn’t want to buy anything new right now.

After rewarding myself for yesterday, I was beginning to fill out a new column I’d labeled, horse stuff , and it would soon be replaced with its own star chart that Lorenzo was going to take control of.

It had me giddy, even though he wouldn’t have prepared anything overnight, it was still his suggestion, and that was more than I thought he would’ve ever done.

I didn’t want to jinx it, but it was Daddy behavior.

Showering and getting ready for the day, I’d excited myself to the point of nearly forgetting that coffee was supposed to be the morning adrenaline rush. I pocketed some gold stars from a fresh sheet of stickers, and I emptied out a fresh pot of coffee into two thermoses to take to Lorenzo.

The morning air carried with it a bitter wind that rattled some of the wood slat window covers.

They were all hooked in place, and you couldn’t hear the rustle or bangs from them in the house, but outside, it sounded like someone was bashing pots and pans together.

I hugged the two thermoses against my chest and zipped a fleece jacket up around them, keeping me toasty warm on my short walk to the stables.

The door was slightly open when I arrived.

I headed inside to the darkened stables where I saw a small lamp on a table and the sleeping bag on the ground, but Lorenzo wasn’t in it, or there at all.

I called out and even went as far as to look in each of the stalls, disturbing the horses in the process which scared me to hear them seemingly communicate and what I could only assume was them talking about me.

Offloading the thermoses from under my jacket by the small table, I almost poured myself a cup before beginning to worry that something might’ve happened to Lorenzo.

Maybe he’d heard about what my dad was planning and realized that it wasn’t worth the work he was putting in for them to be sold off. At least, that’s what I was thinking.

“Lorenzo? Are you hiding?” I called out again, but he clearly wasn’t in here.

I zipped my fleece jacket all the way up to my neck and went back out. It wasn’t until I walked halfway around the stable that I saw a figure stood a little further away. With it’s back to me, I knew it was Lorenzo, staring off into the mountains in the very early dawn light.

“Hey,” I called out to him.

He turned, flinching, his cock in hand, pissing. “Crap,” he grumbled, turning back.

I froze, telling myself to turn away, but I’d seen it. Damn.

“I didn’t want to go too far,” he called out, stuffing his cock back inside his trousers. “It was only a number one.”

With the cold air nipping at my face, I was already turning pink. “It’s fine,” I said. “I didn’t see anything.” That was a lie, I’d seen it all, even the way he pulled his shirt up like he was letting his bush air out in the breeze.

“I also didn’t realize you’d be here so soon,” he said, walking towards me.In his jeans, the droplets of where he’d been caught off guard and peed on himself a little. “If it was a number two, I would’ve gone to the house, trust me.”

I nodded. “I believe you, and I’m not judging. It’s one of the—benefits of having a dick, I guess, just whipping it out and going to town, right.”

He laughed, now right near me. “I don’t always, but sure, when nature calls, I’ll heed it.”

“I didn’t see anything,” I said in a moment of panic, “in case you were wondering.”

He nodded, eyeing me up and down. “Well, it’s probably nothing you haven’t seen before. So, let’s get back in there, it’s pretty cold out.”

Back inside the stables, all the horses were looking out over their stalls.

Coal making the most noise out of all of them and Bramble doing her softer whinnying.

It was somewhat demonic in my ears, and I tried to walk right down the center so none of them could—in my mind, crane their long necks out and snap at me with their big teeth I’d seen crunch through whole apples with ease.

“You brought coffee,” Lorenzo said, patting me on my back.

“Another gold star?” I asked.

“I haven’t even started thinking about all that, so probably not yet.”

On cue, I pulled a sheet of gold stickers from my shirt pocket. “And now you can,” I said, handing them over. “Although I think having a chart would make it easier to keep track of my progress, but I would take them wherever you want to put them—on me.”

Staring into my eyes, he pulled one of the stickers from the sheet and placed it on my cheek. “That one is for yesterday,” he said. “And this one—well, actually, you don’t get one for coffee. But if you want to go over to Coal, give him a couple head strokes and comfort him, I’ll give you another.”

Glancing at the dark shadow in the corner, aka Coal, he was still neighing and huffing for attention. I shouldn’t have woke him earlier when I was calling for Lorenzo, so it was my fault, and I did want another sticker. “Fine,” I said, “but can you pour me a coffee?”

“Isn’t the adrenaline enough?” he asked with a slight chuckle. “I’m kidding, of course, I know it is. But you brought two thermoses, so I’m guessing it’s going to be a busy day.”

I stayed quiet, trying to psych myself up. Taking deep breaths and pushing them out slowly through slightly pursed lips, I approached the horse. I knew I was being watched by the other horses and Lorenzo. I needed stickers. All of them.

Coal grew quiet as I reached out and stroked him. My heart pounding so loud in my ears that I couldn’t hear even if he had been making noise, or whatever words of encouragement Lorenzo had for me.

Almost like I blacked out, I didn’t remember much after it and found myself sitting on the bench at the back of the stables, cradling the plastic cup of coffee while Lorenzo rolled the sleeping bag up.

“Huh?” I let out.

“I was just saying, I think it’s real growth. And soon we’ll have you riding, but they still need to get their strength up before any of that,” he said.

“Oh no, I don’t think I could,” I told him. “I would need to be heavily medicated for that to happen.”

“There’s a sticker in it for you.”

I sipped the coffee, my eyes rolling with the bliss of the bitter taste on my tongue. Surprisingly, while I had a sweet tooth, I loved a bitter black coffee. Life was all about balance. “I don’t think there’s enough stickers in the world for me to ever ride a horse.”

Lorenzo dipped to a squat in front of me. He adjusted his hat on his head and nodded at me, trying to keep my eye contact. “What if,” he began, his words, soft and raspy. “What if I called you a good boy ?”

My knees buckled together in front of him. “I—”

He placed his hand on my knee. “I’m just asking, is that something that might work with the stickers?” he asked.

Stumbling over my words a moment longer, I didn’t know what to say. He’d seen me, seen me, or seen right through me, either way, I didn’t know what to say now. But if he called me good boy again, I couldn’t be responsible for my actions.

“Would it work?” he asked, his grip flexing on my knee. And then he said it again. “Good boy.”

A slight whimper left me. It felt like game over.

Or maybe the game was just starting now… after a month of avoiding it, we were beginning again.