VIOLET STIRS IN MY ARMS, rubbing herself against me, and my cock instantly stands at attention. But I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, wanting to stay exactly where I am and savor it for a little but longer.
My mind wanders to the day at the track when I outed myself to her as Golddiger85. I could have said nothing. And she would never have known who I am. Who I was. We wouldn’t be here. Together. My rash decision in that moment has completely altered the course of my life, and for once I’m not beating myself up about it.
It’s been several weeks of sleepovers now. We don’t spend any nights apart, and I wouldn’t want to anyway. When Violet’s with me, I know she’s safe, and as much as I hate to admit it, she makes me feel safe too. Someone who knows everything I’ve been hiding for so damn long and still wants me. Someone who just looked at me like, Yeah? And? Who cares?
My leg, my PTSD, my anxiety around horses, she just lets it all be. Like it’s my shit to deal with. Shit she’s happy to put up with for some godforsaken reason. A reason I can’t explain—or maybe I don’t want to.
It’s been bouncing around in my head lately. That four-letter word. I often wondered if I was in love with this beautiful, sweet, funny woman who kept talking to me for an entire year. Like I had something to offer her—like she enjoyed my company. But now, spending almost every night with her, inside of her, it’s a thought I can’t shake.
I’m definitely in love with Violet Eaton.
The problem is, admitting I’m in love with Violet means my carefully plotted-out existence is about to topple. I’ve spent so many years feeling undeserving of love, hiding myself from the mere possibility of it, that it feels bizarre to think that I might have found it now. With Violet, no less.
My hips push toward her ass of their own volition. I can’t get enough. I feel like I’m in my twenties again with her around. Insatiable.
“Good morning.” Her voice is warm and dopey as she pushes herself back at me, always equally eager. Because she is in her twenties. I always feel weird about our age difference, a feeling that Violet doesn’t share at all. Mostly she looks at me like I hung the moon. A look that makes my heart constrict, even if it makes me feel uncomfortable. I’ve spent so long hiding from view. Having someone admire me as openly as Violet does is a little unnerving.
“Good morning, beautiful,” I murmur as I drag my teeth up the side of her neck suggestively, watching a slow smile spread across the top side of her face. She’s practically glowing in the golden morning light. She looks like an angel—my angel.
“I’ll play, if you go start the coffee.”
Yes. Now I stock coffee. I don’t know what it is with these women’s reliance on the stuff, but it seems to make Violet happy. And I’m all for that.
I sit up and slide my stump into my new prosthetic, happy to have that custom fit back. And so damn fortunate that I can afford the state-of-the-art one I have. I like that Violet doesn’t jump out of bed to make her own coffee because of my leg. She doesn’t baby me because she knows I’m perfectly capable. I smile over my shoulder at her, watching her stretch out like a cat in a sunbeam, all fucking pleased with herself.
I hum to myself as I jog down the stairs to the kitchen, feeling lighter than I have in years. I press the button on the coffee machine and then slide some sandals on at the front door, heading out to feed Pippy. The other girl in my life.
A chuckle rumbles in my chest when I open the door. She’s waiting at the closest corner of her fence, too long ears pricked in my direction and nostrils vibrating with the shrill hello-whinny she’s known for.
I never would have guessed it, but this little filly makes me smile every day. Another thing that hasn’t happened to me in years. I pull a few flakes of hay off the bale and toss them over the fence for her, something she completely ignores until I’ve given her a few good scratches behind the ear.
“More concerned with lovin’ than eating, huh?”
Her head twists toward me, and I admire how she’s grown into herself. At two, her haunches are still a little higher than her wither, but she’s filled out with muscle and a glowing bronze coat. Between her feeding regimen and Violet’s elbow grease, she doesn’t look like the same ratty filly who showed up at my house a few months ago.
“Guess we’ve both undergone a bit of transformation, haven’t we, pretty girl?”
She snorts and bats her long lashes at me, her eyes like deep, black pools. I swear she gives me a knowing look. Like, Yeah, you fucking idiot. We both needed a fresh start.
I shake my head and stroll back inside, leaving her to eat, but mostly eager to get back to Violet. And when I make it up the stairs to the master bedroom, I go to announce my arrival, “I’m back—” but I stop short when I see Violet kneeling at the end of the bed, golden hair streaming down over her pert breasts, just like that day on the video chat. Except today, she’s giving me that heart-rending, shy but willing look she pulls off so effortlessly.
“Let’s try this again, Butterface.” Her fingers pulse, squeezing at the bedspread beneath her. “But this time, we don’t quit on each other.”
My mouth goes dry instantly. “Violet. We don’t need to do this.”
“No.” She wets her lips. “I need you to do this. Rewrite the memory for me. Don’t leave me this time.”
“I don’t think I could leave you even if I wanted to. I’m so fucking sor—”
“Don’t. Just tell me what to do.”
Every muscle in my body goes taut. This is so fucking hot. She’s so fucking forgiving. I don’t fucking deserve her. But I’m going to spend every damn day trying. The thought invigorates me.
I start like I did a year ago, “Lie back on your pillows and spread your legs.”
And just like the time before, she flushes pink. A whole-body blush.
“You look so fucking pretty in pink,” I say as I stalk to the bed, feeling my knees butt up against the brass footboard. And when she lets her legs fall open, I groan. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“Good,” she says with a slight smirk. A small sign of her strength.
She might be gentle and soft-spoken, but Violet isn’t weak. She can’t be if she’s going to withstand a man like me.
She settles back into the pillows, and I admire her body splayed out before me like an all-you-can-eat buffet. I plan to sample every inch. I let my gaze linger between her legs, glistening already. I can see it, but I want to hear her say it. “Are you wet already?”
Her chest rises on a small gasp as she looks down over her body and confesses with a small hiss, “Yesss.”
“Of course you are.” My prosthetic clangs against the bed frame, and my cock throbs. I don’t know who I’m torturing more here—her or myself. “You love this, don’t you?”
She just nods this time, cerulean eyes wide like pools of deep water. Like the river I can hear rushing behind the house. “Why don’t you touch yourself and show me?”
Her hand finds her pussy almost instantly while the other tangles in the sheets below her. Like she’s holding on for dear life. I’m transfixed as her fingers trail through her folds, her eyes closing and head tipping back on a moan. Most men would probably be engrossed by what’s happening between her legs right now, but I’m staring at the way her elegant neck extends, her exposed throat and the way it moves as she swallows.
“Two fingers in, baby.”
She whimpers but follows my directions. I don’t miss the way her thighs tremble as she does it though, the way her toes curl and clench. She pumps in a few times, making the most delicious fucking noises as she does.
“Now show me how wet you are.”
Her eyes flick open, and her jaw drops. Still so damn shocked sometimes. Oh, honey . . .
Right as she holds her fingers up to show me how wet she is, I say, “Now suck them.”
“Jesus . . .” she mutters, momentarily looking away with a small smile on her mouth. Like she loves it but can’t believe she does. It makes me smile too. Until she puts them in her mouth and moans around her fingers.
Fuuucckk.
She giggles, which makes my cock jump painfully in my boxers. “No toy to play with this time.”
“I’m looking at him.” She sounds out of breath now. Wet, breathless, and blushing. I live for this version of Violet Eaton, and I can’t wait another minute to dive in. I’m over the end of the bed and crawling toward her, yanking my boxers down and moving straight in between her spread legs before she can get another word out.
“I don’t remember this part from last time.” She laughs, and it’s fucking music to my ears. I’ll never get sick of making that up to her.
I’M ready to crawl back into bed and sleep after an early morning marathon sex session with Violet. I haven’t had this much sex in, well, probably ever. Unfortunately, we’re both gainfully employed and have jobs we need to get to today.
“See you tonight?” she asks, sliding into a pair of skin-tight riding pants that has my mind wandering places it should be tired of going by now. We’ve been sort of sneaking around for a few weeks. We don’t go out. We work and fuck and then talk until we fall asleep in each other’s arms. She’s met up with Billie and Mira the odd time, but she never invites me to come—even though I know Vaughn is often with them.
I sometimes catch myself wondering if she wants more. I should just ask her. I should take Trixie’s advice and talk to her about my anxiety around my dad, the depth of it. Around horses. And the fact that she rides them for a living. But it’s so pathetically insecure I haven’t talked myself into it.
At least I’m consistent.
“Of course.” I swipe her wet hair off her cheek and cup her head just below her ear as I press a kiss to her cheek. I love how dainty she feels in my hands. Precious.
We get ready quickly, quietly, running behind after having to go one more time in the shower. And when I lock the door behind us, she stops and spins around, launching herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck and planting a big kiss on me. I’m a little surprised, but I catch up, pulling her close with one arm around her waist and letting the other take a nice big handful of that ass in those tight pants. This is the morning goodbye I’ve always dreamt of.
And then a throat clears loudly. “Is it weird for me to say that was pretty hot?”
Billie.
Violet laughs, her shoulders shaking as she buries her head in my armpit and whispers, “I’m sorry.”
What? “Did you know she was there?”
She nods, her forehead against me, her body still shaking.
I laugh too. It’s always contagious with her. I’m also relieved she doesn’t seem horrified by being caught kissing me, and I can’t help but let my amusement show. “Do you think that if we ignore her, she’ll go away?”
Her laugh turns into a loud snort as she wheezes out, “No. Definitely not.”
“I heard that,” Billie shouts. “Really cute. I came to bring you the farm financials.” I look up as she waves a folder over her head and then sets it down on the gravel driveway. “But I’m not getting any closer to that house. God knows what kind of filthy shit has been going on in there.”
“Billie,” I warn, knowing it won’t make a difference. The woman has no filter.
Violet chortles in the most unladylike way, squeezing in tighter like if she gets close enough, she can hide inside me entirely.
“I’m leaving them right there.” She points down before holding her hands over head and stepping away slowly, like this is some sort of hostage situation. “For what it’s worth, I’m just glad people will stop talking about my cabin being the love shack now. See you up at the barn, Pornstar Patty!”
She grins and winks at me as Violet melts down into my arms. Billie looks far too pleased with herself and, to my surprise, not upset at all. I don’t know why . . . but I expected her to be weird or protective or something. I expected a scolding for scooping up someone so young and normal. I expected Billie, of all people, to see how I don’t deserve the woman in my arms.
But she just looks amused.
When she finally pulls out of the driveway, Violet gasps out, “I’m . . . I’m sorry.” She looks up at me with tears of laughter pouring down her face. And I feel like I’m in some sort of upside-down world. Why is no one mad about this? “I shouldn’t have done that to you.”
“Let me get this straight.” I lean back to look down at her with a furrowed brow. “You kissed me on purpose. Because you knew Billie was there?”
She swipes at her face, trying to catch her breath. “Yes. I—I’m sorry. I wanted people to know about us but didn’t know how to bring it up, or ask you, or tell them. I saw her truck there out of the corner of my eye, and it seemed like the simplest solution. We are an us, right?” When she says us, she peeks up at me from under thick lashes, shyly.
I blink at her, scanning her face for some sign that she might be joking. Because in what universe does this woman want me to be an us with her. I literally shake my head and count my lucky fucking stars. And then I kiss her hard, hold her to me tight, and show her how badly I want to be an us.
“We are definitely an us.”
I PULL up to the farmhouse and close my eyes, dropping my head against the seat. Work was shitty, and that’s saying something considering the mood I arrived in. Between hot morning sex and Violet staking her claim on me in front of her friend, I was in a great fucking mood.
I don’t feel like I’m getting anywhere with the new acquisition. Which means I’ll be stuck out in Ruby Creek for longer, getting things organized and running smoothly before finding someone else to take it over. I wasn’t supposed to like it in Ruby Creek. I was supposed to hate it. But I’m not hating it at all.
I don’t want to leave because I know Violet won’t be leaving. And that agitates me. I spent all day working out the ways we’d see each other once I move back to the city. She can stay with me on the days she races at Bell Point Park, and maybe I can get out to the ranch on the weekends.
But I don’t like that option. I want Violet in my bed every night. Where I can see her. Hold her. Keep her safe. Not an hour and a half down a major highway doing a dangerous job and living alone.
No. I don’t like that at all. And what I like even less is the possibility I’m subconsciously making the new business out to be worse than it really is, all so I can stay here. I’m a fucking head case.
When I get out of the truck, I expect to hear Pippy whinny. Something that usually makes me smile. But today smiling feels like work. My muscles don’t fire right. I feel a cheek twitch, but my body doesn’t quite comply. The smile feels half-hearted. Even this horse deserves better.
And anyway, a whinny doesn’t come.
I look at her paddock, feeling blue to my bones, wishing I could nap. Sometimes these moods hit me for a day or two. Everything feels heavy, and I feel low—downtrodden. I know I haven’t been in touch with Trixie enough for my own well-being. One more thing I can beat myself up about.
I’ve been so high on Violet in the past weeks, I haven’t had time to wallow. She’s not here. I don’t see her car, which means she’s probably with Pippy up at the barn. I’d usually wait for her, but today I need to see her. I’d face Billie’s mocking, Vaughn’s smirk, and Hank’s knowing twinkle if it meant getting to see Violet.
I jump back in my truck and take the road up to the barn. When I pull into the parking lot, I can tick off who will be here by looking at the cars. Everyone is here. Something I’m dreading already. There’s a reason Vaughn took up the mantle as the face of the Gold Rush Resources. Partly because he’s pretty, and partly because I hate that shit. Too many people and too much attention makes me feel like I’m an actor up on stage. Fake. With a big, bright spotlight on me, highlighting every flaw while everyone stares, slack-jawed and horrified. A man who’s killed people, who’s watched people die, and who’s been handed a multinational company with no experience. That’s what I’m sure they must see.
I walk past the offices, not wanting to talk to Vaughn, and head down the vaulted barn alleyway. This facility is so ridiculous. Ranch. I snort.
A young man with a wheelbarrow full of dirty shavings gives me a friendly nod.
“Do you know where Violet is?” I ask.
“My guess is down at the track. Saw her and Billie head down there not so long ago.”
“Thanks,” I bite out, not really wanting to go to the track, but wanting to find Violet more.
Back in the fresh air, under the oppressive cover of heavy cloud, I walk down the paved path toward the dirt oval, running the pad of my thumb over the teeth of the key in my hand, pressing it into the soft skin until it bites.
When the path angles down, and I clear the stand of trees that gives the track a private feel, I see Violet on Pippy and Billie up on her black stallion. They’re chatting amiably, trotting toward the gates at the far end of the track. Vaughn and Hank stand in the covered viewing booth, and I head that way.
I take the few small steps up onto the platform, and Hank turns to greet me, stopwatch in hand. “Cole! Good to see you, son. How you been?”
“Good.” I try to muster a smile, but I know it’s a sad attempt. Hank deserves better. He’s been a mainstay in this town for years. My grandfather, Dermot, hired him and got him into the horses. I don’t know him as well as Vaughn does, but he always gives off that warm, fatherly vibe—the one that makes me squirm with discomfort. The one I miss from my own dad.
“Hey.” Vaughn looks me over the way he always does. A tad uncomfortable, like he’s trying to gauge what kind of mood I’m in, and I hate myself for making my little brother feel that way. Like he needs to walk on eggshells around me.
I feel like I’ve sufficiently killed whatever good vibe they had going in here and jerk my chin out toward the track. “What’s going on?”
“They’re going to try the filly up against another horse, see how she handles the competition.”
“Is a stallion the best choice?” My voice comes out steely, and Vaughn raises an eyebrow at me, though this time he spares me the teasing about my “military voice.”
Hank steps in. “DD is a mellow stallion, and very experienced. With Billie on him, it’s the best choice for sure. If she needs to pull him up, she’ll be able to. He’s got a level head like that.”
I try to ignore the anxiety roiling in my gut. I should go back up to the house, spare myself the stress of being here. But I’ve always been a glutton for punishment, so I stay—forcing myself to face it. Wanting to not be such a royal chickenshit about this.
I’ll need to get a grip on this if Violet and I are going to be an “us.” I watch her and Billie guide their mounts into the slots. No gates are up today, it’s just an open lane. I guess that part comes later.
“On your marks!” Hank shouts, his voice booming in their direction. “Get set!” Pippy prances on the spot, like she knows something is coming. Like she’s ready to explode. “Go!”
As Billie and DD fly out of the gate, completely well practiced, Pippy startles. Her eyes roll slightly, showing the whites. And rather than surging out and running, the little bay filly goes straight up, standing tall on her back legs with her front hooves flailing ahead of her. I watch in frozen horror as Violet attempts to slide her arms around Pipsqueak’s neck and hang on. Her stirrups are set too short for her legs to provide any support.
Time moves in slow motion as her mouth sets in a grim line, concentration painted all over her face. I know Violet isn’t new to a young horse’s antics, but it doesn’t stop pure dread from filling my chest.
And when I watch her topple off the back of the filly, I’m running. Down the stairs, across the bank of grass, vaulting the fence, as though I could get there in time to catch her. Billie sees me and pulls up, finally looking behind herself. Pippy lopes toward me, away from the gates, confusion in her eyes. Dirt flies out behind my feet as I scramble across the track.
I feel bile rise in my throat and stop a few meters away from Violet’s still form, trapped in my worst nightmare.
I can’t be back here again.
I can’t breathe.
My vision blurs. The ground sways beneath me. And I bend over, pressing my hands into my knees as I drop my head and try to force my body to work again. I feel like an old car that needs a jump, a spark. I’m too fucking broken to even help her when she’s on the ground.
But I can’t get my body to cooperate. I heave, one hand coming up over my mouth to hold it in. If she’s hurt. If she’s dead. It can’t happen. I only just found her. I only just found us.
“For fuck’s sake!”
I look up just in time to see her fist hit the dirt and her small feet kick the ground like she’s having a temper tantrum. And suddenly, I can get air back into my lungs. With a few more steps, I fall to the track at her side, kneeling in the dirt, fingers hovering over her body while tears spring up in my eyes.
Relief. Relief so intense. Like I’ve never felt before. “Are you okay? Are you okay?” I can’t stop saying it. The question pours out of me repeatedly, as though I’m short circuiting. Stuck on a loop. Suddenly, I’m transported to the dry heat of Iraq and to that day on the track all at once. It feels like I’m breathing sand again. It scratches my throat; it weighs on my lungs. Checking pulses. Ears ringing.
But Violet’s eyes aren’t dull and vacant. They’re clear blue pools, reflecting the puffy white clouds above us. Her expression changes from looking pissed off to looking concerned as she takes me in.
“Hey, hey. I’m fine.” She tries to sit up, but all my first aid training kicks in, and my arms shoot out to hold her down. What if she has a spinal cord injury? A brain bleed? She could be in shock. When I watched my dad fall, he never got back up.
“Cole. Let me up. I’m fine. I was just winded.” Her lung could be collapsed.
I feel a nudge against my shoulder and look back to see Pippy standing behind me with a sheepish look on her face, black eyes staring at me with such kindness. Billie is just behind her with a sad look on hers. She’s seen how fucked up I am, and now she pities me. Great.
“Just take a minute, Violet,” Billie says so that I don’t need to.
I’m intensely grateful that she’s not just throwing me under the bus, telling me to chill out. Instead, she’s helping me, something most people don’t do. Especially people I’ve been as growly with as I am with Billie.
“You guys!” Violet shoves my hands off and sits up, frustrated. “If I tell you I’m fine, I’m fine. I don’t need to be handled with kid gloves just because I’m the same size as one.”
I flop back, sitting on my heels as Violet brushes herself off and comes to stand. She places one gentle hand on my shoulder before offering the other to pull me up.
“Cole. Babe. It’s nice to see you. But I’m working right now. I’m coming to your place when I’m done. Billie, let’s go again.”
Her tone isn’t cruel, but it is matter-of-fact. She’s not in shock. But I think I might be, even though she’s fine. I feel my hands tremble. I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience. Like every square inch of me is numb.
Except for my heart.
That part of me aches. I can feel it, see it. The damage there, like an inconsequential ding from a rock that quickly splinters the glass and spiders out across the entire windshield uncontrollably. Ruined.
I stand and nod, keeping my eyes trained on the ground as I move away from the gates.
“Cole! Wait up!” Vaughn calls after me, but I wave him off and pick up my pace.
I flee.
Everyone saw me freak out. That goddamn spotlight I avoid is on me. They all know.
But I can’t focus on that right now. My mind is reeling with two thoughts:
I need to be alone.
I can’t be with someone who does this for a living.
