Page 53 of Saving the Rain
I’m so goddamn awkward, creeping out from Peaches’ stall with the grooming bucket, and end up clearing my throat loud enough that probably the entire mountain can hear me. After setting everything down, I jab my fingers through my hair until the strands are on end.
Raine’s dark eyes flick to mine from across the other side of Winnie’s back. I see his tattooed hand run the length of her spine to rub over the spot where the saddle rug had been only moments before.
“Hey.” I shuffle my weight. He makes me tongue-tied and so uncertain how to act; there’s absolutely no hope in hell of me knowing what to say.
“Is your knee feeling all right?” He turns back to Winnie, letting his gaze drift away. I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. Do I want his attention transfixed on me, or not?
“It’s been good so far.” Lifting my shoulders inside my hoodie, I catch a waft of sweetness in the air. Rainfall starts to shower down in a soft thrum on the roof, and the freshness mixed with damp earth drifts in from the open doors.
He dips his chin and makes a noise that I guess can be interpreted as an acknowledgment. As much as I scolded myself throughout the process of cleaning up last night, tossing and turning in my bed, and taking a shower this morning, there’s no avoiding the reality. I can’t stop recalling what it was like with Raine, and seeing him in the here and now only amplifies all of that.
My only intention was to come to the barn to spend some time with the horses, to get my legs back under me—in the most literal sense—now that I’m approved for ranch work.
But here Raine is, turning up in his goddamn backward cap and well-worn jacket, looking so rugged and at ease around our barn. He moves like he’s been here for years, not a couple of weeks, and the thundering feeling inside my chest says it all. A loud and unrestrained holler, pointing out just howfinehe looks.
If I was ever in any doubt as to how fucked up I am, it’s been confirmed by a flood of warmth making its way up the back of my neck and palms going clammy at just one glance.
There’s no moving on from what happened last night.
Not for me, at least.
My body leaps to attention, every single thought swirls into his vortex, trying to make themselves at home beneath those thoughtful, gentle pats he gives to the horse. Raine didn’t lay a hand on me last night, and I’m watching with hungry eyes as his heavy palm smooths across Winnie’s glossy coat.
I’m officially pissed off that a horse knows what it feels like to have his fingertips offer a gliding touch like that, and I don’t.
“Finished fixing the fence out on the southern boundary.” His voice is steady, matter of fact. No obvious sign of anythingdeeperaffecting him.
“Raine...” I lose the internal battle and step across the aisle to come around the same side of the horse where he’s standing. I gotta know what he’s thinking, or I’m pretty sure my stomach is going to knot itself irreparably.
“The cattle have been fed. You’ll only need to look in on them tomorrow,” Raine continues, this time fisting Winnie’s halter and walking her back in the direction of her stall.
He doesn’t even look at me while passing by.
“Raine.” Swallowing heavily, I repeat his name, because I don’t like the sound of this. It’s like he’s handing over instructions, turning off the lights, and locking up at the end of the day. There’s a hint of finality in his tone, the kind that makes my blood pump harder.
“Forecast seems to be mild for the next week at least.”He settles Winnie inside her stall, then closes the door. As he does so, his head tilts to one side to take in the sight of me. I’m standing there, consumed by this maddening unease as he reaches out to hand me the halter and dips his chin.
I immediately toss it to the ground and take another step closer. A goddamn band tightens around my chest with each passing second, and I don’t know how to do or say anything that might successfully stop what’s happening.
Raine readjusts his cap and flicks his eyes over the barn, landing on me for the briefest second, then he coughs into his fist and starts to walk outside.
“Wait. What the hell?” I’m back to tripping over my words in an effort to get him to damn well slow down, or to at least talk to me. I know that’s not his style. I know he doesn’t communicate easily. But at least for the sake of everything we’ve just been through, we need to clear the air... surely?
“I’m leaving, Kayce.” He keeps walking but turns his head to toss the words over his shoulder. “You said it yourself. You wanted me to go, to leave you to it, so I’m out.”
My head spins. I feel like a jerk, because I only said that when I was frustrated and bitter about everything falling apart in my life. And as much as I know he can’t stay, it feels wrong that this is how things are gonna abruptly end between us. Except there isn’t anyus, and shit, I don’t know what the hell is going on inside my head.
Those faintly drifting showers from earlier are now heavy droplets falling steadily, and Raine keeps on striding away in the direction of his truck.
All I can do is chase after him. Stuttering and damn well stammering in his wake.
“You can’t just leave.”
He shakes his head to himself. “What do you want from me, Kayce?” His voice is heavy and filled with resigned irritation. “You said you didn’t want to talk about it. That you never wanted to speak about this.”
I skid to a halt right behind him as he reaches the door. Throughthe truck’s window, I see that he’s already packed and ready to leave—his bag sits on the far end of the bench seat.
“I didn’t mean?—”