“Tell me about your mom.”
Talk about a buzzkill. We just had the best sex of my life. The woman of my dreams is sprawled naked on my chest, and she wants to talk about my dead mom? The fingers I’ve been trailing down the indent of her spine stop in their tracks.
“If you want,” she adds. “I’m just curious. You don’t have to.”
“Mira, take a breath. It’s fine. You never need to feel like there’s something you can’t ask me or tell me. After what I’ve been through, honesty is important to me.”
She stiffens, so I keep rubbing her back, wanting to go back to that blissful state of relaxation we were in just a moment ago.
“Nora was…” I’m at a loss for what to say about my mother actually. “Naive. Quick to fall in love. Starved for attention and constantly looking for more. And sometimes in all the wrong places. She grew up in a small town but had a wanderer’s soul. I suppose that’s why she started traveling.” I try to imagine my mother living in Ruby Creek, and I can’t. She doesn’t fit here.
Mira drags a nail over the lines of my abs tenderly. My cock thickens, but I can take her again in a bit. I’m kind of enjoying the quiet solitude of talking with her, even about something I never say out loud. She has this way of making me feel safe, like she’s really listening, not just humoring me to achieve some end. She genuinely enjoys our conversations, and somehow that’s more flattering than anything else she’s said or done. Her attention is healing.
“She was also strong and driven. Curious. She would pack up and hit different countries for a few months at a time. Traveling on a budget. Hitchhiking. Working odd jobs to make ends meet. And then when she depleted her bank account, she’d come back here and work whatever jobs she could find to replenish her accounts before taking off on another adventure. Until she went to Romania and met Constantin. Then her travels stopped, and that’s when she was pregnant with me. He essentially locked her up and threw away the key. She should have hated him for it; instead she loved him to her dying day. Even against her better judgement.”
“It’s sad, you know?” Mira muses. “She sounds like a fascinating woman—a free spirit—the way you describe her. It seems a real shame to tie her down that way. I wonder what she could have done with her life under different circumstances?”
I take a deep swallow. I’ve been so angry at her for so long, so busy wallowing in my pity, that I haven’t let myself consider how truly sad her story is. “I’ve never quite thought of it that way. Mostly I think about how badly they fucked up Nadia and me.”
“I think your experiences have shaped you in ways you don’t even see.”
“Yeah, yeah. Morally gray. I know.” I roll my eyes up at the ceiling and sigh, feeling tired of always being labeled the bad guy. “And they’ve shaped a crooked nose.”
“I like your nose.”
My heart seizes in my chest. “You do?”
I’ve left my nose as a sort of reminder. I could have had it fixed by now, but then I wouldn’t be able to beat myself up over not keeping my mom and sister safe every time I look in the mirror.
Mira clambers her naked body on top of mine, looking straight down into my eyes. “I do,” she says before delicately kissing the bridge of my nose. Her finger trails down in its wake, making me feel more self-conscious than I have in years. “I’ve always thought you were devastatingly handsome. Alluring.” She kisses me again, more slowly this time. “The nose. The accent. The quick tongue. I’ve always been drawn to you. Even when I barely knew you.”
I bask in her attention, soaking up her sweet words like medicine. Loving that this attraction wasn’t one-sided.
She tips her head and presses a kiss to the center of my chest. “You’re not morally gray. You walk the line of being intensely supportive without being overbearing perfectly. Look at Nadia. Look at me. Life gave you some sour fucking lemons, and you added the sugar and made yourself some lemonade. You love so fiercely. I think she’d be proud of you. Just like I am.”
Love.
The word bounces around in my head. A perilous word to be sure. I love Nadia, absolutely. But the way Mira lumped herself in there felt a little too natural. My heart says she belongs on that list, but my head says it’s too soon. My head says that everyone I love ends up hurt. Or dead.
Could I love Mira that way? Fiercely? I stare down at her elegant fingers, still skating across my skin. I think I probably could.
Possibly already do.
I grunt and palm her skull, silky hair sliding beneath my skin as I kiss the crown of her head. I pull her closer and chide myself. For a guy who claims that honesty is an important quality to him, I’m a fantastic liar. I shouldn’t love Mira. Because everything I touch turns to shit. And when I love something too much, the universe takes it away from me.
“Good morning.”
I turn around from the coffee maker to see Nadia sliding onto a stool at the island in the kitchen. This is my favorite room in the house. I love cooking. I especially love cooking for other people. It’s an easy way for me to show affection without having to talk about my feelings.
When Nadia moved in with me, she looked me in the eye and told me to stop apologizing to her. My guilt over leaving her behind as a teenager is heavy, and the regret over not going back as an adult is possibly even worse.
So, I cook for her. It’s my way of saying sorry without uttering the words. Homemade fine dining. I slide a plate of smoked salmon eggs Benedict across the island toward her, followed by a cup of piping hot coffee.
“Fuck yes.” Her eyes light up, and she runs her finger through the hollandaise sauce before sucking it off with an exaggerated moan. My sister has no shame.
“You’ve been hanging out with those Gold Rush girls too much.”
She laughs. “So have you.”
I ignore the comment. I know Mira wants to keep us under wraps. And as much as I hate the feelings of inadequacy that come with it, I respect her decision. No matter how badly I’d like to shout it from the rooftops and not feel like I have to sneak over to her house under the cover of darkness. She asked me to stay last night after our heart-to-heart, but I knew she’d regret it in the morning when I would inevitably have to walk out to my vehicle amid a bustling farm filled with her friends and colleagues.
I put her on all fours and fucked her hard one more time—just the way she likes— and kissed her senseless before driving home in a haze of memories and complicated feelings.
Plus, I have work to do around the farm this morning. Racing season is almost upon us, and I’ve got some young horses that really need to get started training. Something I know nothing about. But luckily, Griffin does.
“Ready?” I ask as he rounds the corner after using the washroom.
He lifts his chin and grunts, hiding beneath the brim of his baseball cap. Nadia whips around, startled by the strange man standing in our house.
“Sorry, Nadia. This is Griffin. The guy I bought this place from.”
She takes one look at him and places her fork down. “That is Griffin?”
My brow furrows as I load mine and Griffin’s coffee mugs into the dishwasher. We’ve already eaten and had coffee and are ready to go. The guy gets up at the crack of dawn, and I don’t mind getting him acquainted with his new projects nice and early.
“Yeah.”
“Your best friend Griffin?” Her eyes bulge in their sockets.
“Relax, Nadia. Adults don’t have best friends.”
Griffin snorts, rubs his beard, and walks to the front door to shove his feet into a pair of worn cowboy boots.
“I’ve already told you. He sold me this place and we’ve just stayed in touch.”
Okay, that might downplay it. I like Griffin, and he probably is my best friend. He’s not invasive or annoying, but he’s also the only person in this valley who didn’t treat me like a leper when I got here. He moved up into the mountains once I took over. His new property is pretty remote, but I’ve been up a couple times. He’s a private guy, but he’s invited me hunting—a new experience for me—and I’ve helped him with some repairs to his cottage. Which is why he’s here repaying me the favor. As a former bronc rider, he assures me he can get a few youngsters started up for me, and that’s not a gift horse I’m about to look in the mouth.
My sister’s face scrunches up in confusion as she whispers, “But… he’s a total dick.”
I bark out a laugh as I round the bar top toward the front entryway. “I’m glad you think so.” I wink at her. “Then I won’t have to worry about you scaring him off with your antics while he’s here.”
I swear I can almost hear Nadia roll her eyes. That girl has an attitude the size of Texas. And to be honest, it’s part of what I love about her.
And Mira.
Fuck.
Not love. Like.
I toss a coat on and step into my work boots, shaking my head at myself as I head out the front to catch up with Griffin. It takes about an hour to get him all set. I show him the three youngsters that need a start, and I feel suddenly very overwhelmed by running the farm.
Needing the sunshine, I walk out to the paddock where Loki and Farrah now spend their days soaking up the rays and rolling in mud. His shrill whinny greets me as he trots across the pen with a real prance to his step, knees coming up higher than necessary just to show off. The older he’s gotten, the more hilarious he’s become. He’s going to be a handful, that much is clear. He’s smart, and playful… and mischievous. I frequently catch him trying to undo the chain around his gate. He bucks and leaps around his pen like he’s a world champion bucking horse.
Yeah. I don’t envy the poor sucker who has to get on him for the first time. This horse will probably be reading full sentences by then. Either way, I’m beyond relieved to see him turning a corner. He’s a healthy colt. No one would ever guess the shape he was in a couple months ago.
I’ve come to love him. There are a lot of horses on this farm, and at the track in the city that belong to me, so leave it to the one horse that money can’t buy to weasel his way into my heart. I haven’t loved a horse like this since I lived in Romania.
“Hey, bud.” I stroke the broad white blaze down his forehead, and he snorts his contentment. Wild as he might be, we’ve forged a special friendship. I told Billie once that DD was her heart horse, a horse she could understand like no one else can. A term I learned from the villagers in my hometown.
Looking into Loki’s wide black eyes now, watching his soft lips nip at the button on my jacket—trying to pull it off, I might add—I wonder if I’ve met a second heart horse.
The thought of him leaving in only a few months makes my chest ache and my nose tingle. He’s a pain in the ass little horse. But he’s my pain in the ass little horse. The only reassurance I give myself is knowing at Gold Rush Ranch he will get the absolute best shot to live up to his potential. He’ll receive top-of-the-line care. And he might even get to dump Billie Black in the dirt a couple of times.
I chuckle, scratching at his ears. “She’s stubborn, but I think you might have her beat in that department.”
With that, I grab a pitchfork and start picking out his paddock, tossing manure and lose hay into a wheelbarrow. I have paperwork I should do, registrations, endless emails to answer, but I’d rather hide out here with Loki, trying to avoid his snappy lips as I clean out his field. Physical labor is therapeutic in a way I never imagined. I never really did any until I bought this place. It was part of how I chose to recreate myself.
I didn’t get my MBA so I could do farm chores, but I didn’t get it to run a horse racing empire either. I watch Mira, an absolute force to be reckoned with, going after everything she wants. Refusing to be deterred. And I’m just… adrift. Everything is so unresolved for me. I have so many questions about my background that are just blank. There’s no one to ask because there’s no one who knows.
I spent most of my life working my ass off to not become Constantin, to not give into that part of my genetic makeup. A wife or family felt like a curse I wouldn’t ever place on another person, least of all one I professed to love. After all, what if I became him?
And then I found out not a single part of me belongs to him and my world unexpectedly unlocked. I wasn’t beholden to that dark legacy anymore. It was freeing, but also confusing. Without that vendetta, I knew nothing about what I wanted out of life.
The older I get, the more I ache for a family, for a connection, in a way I never knew I would. I’m a well put-together facade. I’m a lost little boy, living his life based on a crusade. A promise I made to no one but myself.
And for what?
There are days where I have no clue what the hell I’m doing with my life—where I wonder if it matters. But most of all, there are days where it feels like I don’t know where I’m going, because I have no idea where I came from.
The only thing that’s certain about where I’m going is that Mira will be with me when I get there. I’ll make sure of it. I’m playing for keeps.
