Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
I had expected him to be less on edge now that was all done. He clearly was not.
We reached his truck, and he jerked open the door and placed me inside, then buckled me in. I could buckle myself, but at the moment, pointing that out seemed useless. He was in his head, and I didn’t think it was a good place most of the time. I wondered how much of that was his mother’s fault. She hadn’t been there today. He was a grown man, but it was still odd to me that she hadn’t come to support him. It was her house that it had all taken place in after all.
Needing to comfort him, I reached up and brushed his hair off his forehead. He paused, and his eyes locked with mine. Smiling at him, I brushed my thumb over his lips, like he often did mine.
His nostrils flared. “I need to get you home.”
I nodded. Whatever it was that was driving him to need this, I would go along with it. I wasn’t letting the Zephyr thing go. We would talk about it. But first, he had to fight whatever demon was currently in his head.
Storm stepped out of the stables as Thatcher walked around the front of the truck. He glanced from Thatcher to me and laughed, shaking his head before sticking a cigarette in his mouth and lighting it up. The driver’s door opened, and I turned my attention to Thatcher as he climbed inside.
“Are you gonna tell me what this was all about?” I asked him as he backed up his truck.
He shot me a look before glaring out the front window as he headed toward the main house. I didn’t want to go there. I knew he had his own house, but I wasn’t sure where it was. The Shephards’ mansion was beautiful, but it was too big. Too formal. I couldn’t imagine having grown up in something like that. My parents had been a lot to deal with, and they had their faults, but our home had been warm, cozy, lived in.
“It’s dangerous,” Thatcher said.
I swung my gaze back to look at him. “Dangerous? What is?”
“You riding Zephyr at that kind of speed.”
I shook my head. “He wanted to go that fast. I didn’t push him to open up like that. I would never force him to hit a speed that would hurt him. He’s a racehorse. I—”
“NOT the fucking horse, Capri! YOU! It is dangerous for you!” he shouted, his hand slamming against the steering wheel, causing me to jump. He sucked in a deep, raspy breath. “I’d never have let you on him if I thought he’d hit that speed. I knew he was fast. He was bred to be a winner. But …” He shook his head. “You can’t ride him. I can’t handle it.”
I dropped my gaze to my hands clasped together tightly in my lap. I was a jockey. That was what I did. I rode fast horses. Sure, I’d never been on one that could get that kind of time, but in my line of work, that was a huge deal. I would make a name for myself. I would leave a mark. People would know who I was. Carmen hadn’t been able to make Zephyr make that time. But I had.
“He’s big. Bigger than Bloodline. Add that to his speed, and I can’t allow you to race him.” He wasn’t shouting anymore. His voice sounded pained. “Just knowing you were on him at that speed, and I wasn’t there … if something had happened …”
I started to point out that something could happen on any horse. Racing one wasn’t considered a safe sport. People were injured, among other things. He knew this, though I was afraid making my point wouldn’t help my situation. It could make it worse.
Lifting my gaze from my lap to the window, I saw we weren’t headed to the big house now. We were on another road. I glanced in the rearview mirror to see the Shephards’ mansion in the distance. We’d gone past it. Thatcher had a house on the property. I wondered if Sebastian did too.
Not that this was important. Right now, I had a man who could literally end my career. His father had given me a chance to make it in the racing world, and Thatcher might take it away. I wanted to be furious at him and be able to yell. Scream even. But I lacked the drive to do it. The truth was, as frustrated as I was with Thatcher at the moment, I wanted to comfort him. Reassure him. When a man showed no emotion for so long and then you started to see glimpses of it, when he showed you his soul when no one else got a glimpse, it was powerful.