Brielle has always been the girl who is off-limits to a guy like me. I’m a horse trainer, and while some of them look flashy on television after a victory, unless you own the horse, we don’t make a ton of money. I make enough to survive. I’m debt free, but my retirement is a bit small. If I’m injured and unable to work—I’ll need a new career. Horse training, at least for me, isn’t exactly a college educated program. But, Brielle. She’s educated. She was the sexy private schoolgirl who used to come into the stables after school in her tartan skirt, knee high socks, white dress shirt, and pigtails. Okay, the pigtails were a total fantasy. Still, the outfit was killer, and there I was, horny and hot after this chick, and mucking shit out of stables. Never in my life did I think a guy like me would turn her head.
One night, it happened. Bri had moved into the pool house, which was really a nice sized house on her family’s property, and she had blown a fuse. Her parents were out of town and the other ranch hands had all gone home for the night, but there I was sitting on the porch of my parent’s house, reading a book. As much as I didn’t want to help her, I had no choice. If didn’t do as she asked, my father could’ve been fired. That is how much power she holds when it comes to trivial things like a blown fuse.
It was the first time she had ever really spoken to me. Sure, she’d say hi every now and again, but I had no idea if she even knew my name. That night, she climbed the stairs to the porch and held onto the railing. She leaned against the post and said my name like it had fallen from her lips a thousand times. I knew in that moment she would destroy me. I just didn’t know I would be the one walking away.
And now, she’s walking away from me. I’m not even sure why she came to speak to me if she wasn’t going to listen to what I have to say. That’s not true. I know why. It’s because Brielle Armstrong has to have the last word, right or wrong. One thing is for sure, she knows how to make an entrance, and make her exits even more dramatic.
I turn around and rest my arms on the rock wall. It’s massive and makes the Armstrong mansion look like a fortress. I suppose in some respects it is, not that I’ve seen much of the house. Mr. Armstrong is the type of man who reminds his hired help where they stand according to his personal food chain, which is fine. I’ve known my role from birth. I also know Butch would have a heart attack if he knew someone like me has rolled around in Brielle’s million thread count sheets on more than one occasion.
From where I stand, I can see the courtyard. White lights illuminate the people mingling and the soft music playing is just loud enough to keep conversations private. A firm hand grips my shoulder. I turn slightly to see my dad standing next to me. There’s a rift between us, one that will likely never be bridged because I look like a traitor to him. That’s because I am. I’ve disgraced years of Hensley’s when I left Armstrong Acres for another ranch.
“Hey,” I say, refraining from calling him dad. It pains me, but I’ll do what I can to save face in front of the Armstrong’s and the others.
“I hear you’ve done well with that colt of yours.”
It’s a compliment and I’m going to take it. “Thanks.”
Dad sips on his drink and stares off into the darkness. Everyone always said we look so much alike. I should probably comment on his horse, but honestly, I haven’t been paying attention because I want to put all of my focus on Maximus.
“Your mom would like to see you. She’s in the stables.” He takes one last look at me and I can tell he wants to say more. Of course, he doesn’t. The man is more stubborn than me. I watch my father’s backside as he disappears into the house. He blends in instantly with the others. The men all look the same with their clean-shaven faces, nicely coifed hair, and black tuxedos. It’s amazing any of the wives can tell which one is her husband. I finish my drink and set it on one of the trays stationed in the corner and make my way out toward the stables. It’s been at least six months or more since I’ve seen my mom. We text a lot, and she calls when my dad is training, but most of the time I’m doing the same thing and can’t talk. I know my decision to work for another ranch has been hard on her, and while she says she understands, I’m not sure she does.