Impulsion (Station 32 #1)(54)

Wyatt was going over the farm finances with his parents, planning how much grain they needed for the next month, when Ava came in. He waited for Harley to follow her, thinking he’d ask her to take a walk, just start over. When she didn’t come in, he went to look for her. He almost went to the main barn, thinking she was making sure Danny Boy was all right, but the only light on was the one coming from the apartment that Truman had moved into the day Wyatt’s house was built.

He thought he heard something, saw her shadow, so he started to walk in that direction. His heart picked up when he realized he was walking toward his house. Wyatt could have built his home anywhere on the Doran property, but he chose the spot that would overlook that creek, that one tree that held every memory he wanted to drown in.

That hope crashed when he realized he did see her, that she was on the phone with him. She told him it felt cold here, and something about memories should stay memories.

He tore off before she knew he was there, got in his truck, and drove the long way around the property. Even though he was due at the fire hall at 7 A.M., he sat on his front porch until dawn and stared out at the creek, wondering what the hell he did to deserve any of this.

***

Harley was up at dawn the next day but stayed in her room until she heard Camille leave. She didn’t want to be face-to-face with Wyatt after last night. To her horror, that little green Honda was still parked beside the barn. She kept her head held high as she passed it. She was going to her horse, she was going to take care of her horse, then she didn’t know what she was going to do, but that was putting one foot in front of the other at the moment.

“Where are your riding clothes?” Camille asked from the bays.

“At the house.”

“So you plan to just walk around my barn all day and do nothing? Are you not a rider anymore?”

Harley glanced to Danny Boy, then to Camille, thinking the woman had lost her mind.

“This is your mount,” she said, pointing to the gray gelding in the crossties, “and he hates waiting on his rider.” Camille stepped in her office, then out again with riding pants and short boots. “Head upstairs and change.”

Harley had always known Camille was hard-core, but she never thought she was cruel. This right here, making her go upstairs when clearly there was a girl lying in Wyatt’s bed, that was a move her mother would make. And by having the mother Harley had, she had learned not to show any emotion in her expression. Camille would have no idea that right now Harley was seconds away from a girlish breakdown.

She took the clothes and climbed the stairs, telling herself it was not the first time she had found a girl in this apartment. Even though they all said the last time was a ruse, she was having her doubts, especially after a fitful sleep the night before. Every time she rose out of her bed, after a vivid dream about her and Wyatt, that green Honda was in her face.

Harley knocked. No one came to the door, so she opened it like she owned the place. All the furniture was exactly the same as it was before; like everything else, it was captured in time. She had gone into the bathroom and changed and came out just in time to see a pretty little blonde running around gathering all her things.

“Hey, thanks for the wake up call. Harley? Right?” the girl said, not even troubling to smile, only bothering to give a condescending glance in Harley’s direction.

Harley never used it but was taught to give a lethal glare, one that clearly stated, ‘I’m better than you.’ She used it then, though, as she glanced over that girl, then made her way back down, not willing to play nice with anyone.

It was a good thing she was in a bad mood; that seemed to give her the strength she needed to control this near out of control mount she was on. She felt every bone and muscle in her body pushed, pushed so far that she forgot that she was sore before long.

“Wyatt thought he was going to have to ride that horse three times over before he’d be ready for you. He wanted to be here the first time you did ride, but I guess a girl’s day at some shopping center sounded more inviting,” Camille had taunted as Harley let her horse walk around the perimeter of the ring.

“Wasn’t the driver in that situation.”

“Oh, so you forgot how to use your voice? Or do you just let people talk for you? Never rob a bank. They still prosecute the ones that were just there. They call it ‘accessory’ or something.”

Harley actually laughed at that. Growing up, when Harley was at her farm, Camille never acknowledged the background Harley had, her parents. She treated Harley like one of her own. Every once in a while, usually just after Harley arrived or just before she was leaving, little taunts like that would come. It was Camille’s silent way of telling Harley to woman up. Say what you mean and mean what you say, no matter how scared you are.

“Your next ride is tacked up. He’s a bit easier.”

“What? Wyatt doesn’t want to ride him first?” Harley threw back.

“I’m sure he would love to, but he is currently fighting fires, or waiting to fight fires. On occasion, he pulls people from turned over trucks, too. We won’t be seeing him until tomorrow. If he sleeps tonight, it will be first thing. If not, then he’ll be ‘round for the afternoon lessons.”

And that gives him permission to be an ass? Harley thought to herself.

The last time Harley had ridden as hard as she did that day was the last time she was at Willowhaven. Camille had pushed her, not to be mean, but because that was how she always was.