This morning, I came to the barn to brush down the horses and clear my head. I knew Mom would want to ride, and Nikki... Shit. I hadn’t even ventured into that problem. What the hell was she doing here? Talk about nuking my Fortress of Solitude.
Patrick at least took care of her. Those two were like a pair of chicks. They’d become besties or whatever when I was away. She was constantly hanging on his arm and whispering who knew what and giggling. I had no idea why Elaine put up with that shit. Strike that. I knew exactly why Elaine put up with it. My little brother was wrapped so tightly around her little finger she’d be blind not to see it.
Not that I could blame him. Elaine was cool. She wasn’t my Mariska, but Patrick could’ve done a lot worse.
“You’re up early, cowboy.” My stomach clenched at her voice. Nikki. “You make those boots look damn sexy.”
Straightening, I patted Scout as I made my way toward the stall door where she stood. “How’s it going, Nik.”
“Not bad.” Her blue eyes traveled over my body like always. And like always, I ignored it. “I confess, I was really happy when your mom asked me to join her on this trip.”
“I didn’t know you and Mom were close.”
“She seemed to think me coming here might be good for you.”
Scheming women. Mom had been throwing barbs about Mariska and me all night. I was one more smart remark from going to the cabin. Only a pair of hazel eyes kept me from leaving.
Nikki reached up and stood on the stall door. The top she wore was low cut, and she leaned down giving me a shot of her breasts. “Patrick said there’s a nice loft over the stables.”
I exhaled through my lips and walked back to Scout trying to understand this one. I’d slept with Nikki once. Three years ago. I never made any promises to her. We were both pretty drunk at the time. I couldn’t believe she was still holding on to that.
“Sounds like something he’d know.”
“Want to show it to me, Cowboy?”
Clearing my throat, I was about to make some excuse when my little brother interrupted. “Going for a ride, Nikki?”
“I wish.” She slanted her eyes at me.
“Well, stop wishing. I can give you the tour.”
She stepped off the stable door with a sigh and leaned against it. “What’s Elaine up to?”
“Driving Mariska into town. She needs a special kettle for Turkish coffee.”
“Right.” An ugly tone entered her voice. “The gypsy thing. Cute.”
Patrick pushed his cowboy hat back and grinned. “Your eyes are sort of bluish-green aren’t they?”
“Shut up, Patrick.” She walked away from Scout’s stall, and for the first time in my life, I was thankful for my little brother. Then she stopped. “On second thought, yes. I’d like the tour.”
“Mom’s coming with us.”
They left the barn, and I rested my arm on the Palomino thinking of Mariska. The mention of her name sent my mind in pursuit of her image. Fuck coffee, she liked to paint. I wondered if I could somehow plant that seed in my future sister-in-law’s mind. I wanted to see her art.
I wanted to see her.
“Dammit.” With a growl, I pushed through the stall door. Bill was standing outside the tack room holding a bridle and a rope.
Thankful for the distraction, I walked over. “What’s going on?”
“Working with that colt.” He started for the paddock, and I followed. “It’s been years since I’ve broke a horse. Just trying to remember the best approach leading up to the saddle.”
“How far along is he?”
“I’ve been working him with the lunge line about a week.”
Stepping into the medium-sized, fenced yard, I watched the little brown colt running, shaking his head. My uncle let out a low whistle, and he stilled, hesitated, then started toward us. Bill lifted his hand, and the little guy ran past us.