Impulsion (Station 32 #1)(8)

Harley knew that if she and Wyatt were ever caught, all hell would break loose. She would lose him, her trainer, and more than likely all the revenue that Claire Tatum’s friends brought would be lost as well. But she could not say that to Camille.

“Do you ever see your mother?” Camille asked. It was odd to her that any parent was okay with their daughter basically being raised by another family, and in a way she felt like she was raising Harley since she was in her care for almost half of every year.

“My school is not that far from home. I spend the weekends there.”

“It’s not far, but you still board there?”

“It’s far enough. With school and sports, the days are long. I get more rest by staying there.” That was the truth. The part she didn’t say was that it also saved her from having to deal with her mother. Harley’s father traveled a lot during the week, sometimes the weekends, too, but usually he took Harley with him when that happened.

Camille knew all of this, Harley was sure of it. What she was not sure of was where this conversation was going or what the purpose was.

“Do you ever rest, though? Do you ever have fun?”

Harley nodded to Danny Boy. “This is fun.” She raised her book. “This is fun.”

“I agree on both accounts, Harley. But you have to learn to relax.”

Yep. She must have had a bad lesson this morning. Harley could remember her yelling something like that at her.

“You’re seventeen. You worked hard this morning. All of the kids are down at the creek, and you’re here alone. I need to know if they have said something to keep you out or if you would rather not be with them, or what.”

Harley was shell-shocked, and her expression said as much. “I just didn’t want to put anyone in an awkward position,” she explained again.

“So they did say something to you?”

“No, not at all. I love Ava, Kate, all of those girls. Wyatt and Truman, Easton, they’re all nice. Like I said…I just…I just thought distance was best for everyone.”

“What’s best for you, Harley?”

That really shocked her. That was the kind of question her father would ask her, and the tone she used implied that she knew the answer already. Harley felt her stomach flip. There she was, staring at the mother of the boy she loved and daring to believe that no matter how careful she and Wyatt had been, they had been discovered. She was too scared to lie, too petrified to tell the truth.

“Harley, you come from a world where everyone is watching, where worrying about what others think is a first priority. I don’t want that business on my farm. We run our own race here. You’re too tense, too on guard. Danny Boy feels that—we all do. If you don’t want to go to the creek or four-wheeling with the others, that’s fine. Take the Jeep into town, find something fun to do.”

“This is my fun,” she said with a glance to Danny Boy. “At school, I count the minutes until I get to him. During the summer, I don’t want to waste a second.”

Camille took Danny Boy’s lead. “You have the next twenty years with Danny Boy, maybe longer. You only have one summer to be seventeen. The keys are in the Jeep. Go to the creek, go to town, come back relaxed, and if you do, I will have the boys set a new course in the indoor arena, one that a relaxed, elegant rider could accomplish.”

Harley stood still as a statue, watching Camille lead her horse into the barn. Camille looked over her shoulder. “Go on, now. Don’t make me say it twice. I’m keeping you safe, girl. Tense riders hit the dirt every time.”

Even if she went to town just to keep up the fa?ade, she was sure she would get lost on her way there—not to mention that part of her was wondering if by being so careful, she and Wyatt had become obvious.

She went back to the main house, found her swimsuit that was still in her travel bags, pushed out of her short riding boots, and dressed to go to the creek.

Taking the Jeep was her only option as the creek was almost two miles away, outlining the far end of the property. She knew the way only because she and Wyatt had snuck out there more than once. They even had blankets tucked away, wrapped in plastic, stuffed in the base of a tree trunk. They would lay them out on the bank and count the stars with their fingers laced together. That bank was not only where they’d had their first kiss, but where they dared to master first and second base—just driving in that direction was making her heart race, her skin flush.

When she pulled up, she saw Wyatt on one four-wheeler, Easton on another, and Memphis was sitting on the front rack of Easton’s. They all had their shirts off and were leaning forward, watching the others swim. There was a long rope that was used to swing into the creek. That’s where Truman was.

All the Doran kids were a year apart, if that. Wyatt was seventeen, Truman sixteen, and Ava fifteen. Truman looked more like his dad. He was huskier, had his dark hair and his big mouth. Ava was a mix of both her parents but was at that awkward stage where she thought she was already grown, and when she acted that out, it was near humorous. Right then, she was begging Easton to come into the creek, even pulling her shoulders back and dipping her chin.

“Not while I’m alive,” Wyatt belted out, earning a laugh from Easton. A “Yeah, never mess with your boy’s sister,” comment came from Memphis.

Memphis may have had the lightest personality in the group, but he had the darkest features. In the summer, his skin was near bronze, but his dark hair only vaguely lightened up. No light could touch his eyes which were as deep as midnight.