Rein In (Willow Bay Stables #3)(5)

I nodded. These terms were included in the briefing I’d gotten at my parole hearing.

“You got curfew at ten thirty every night. If you leave the premises, you are required to let me know where you’re goin’ and to call to check in once every hour if not accompanied by a volunteer or myself.”

Stretching my legs out, I nodded again.

“Starting tomorrow, you work at six in the mornin’ until four in the afternoon. Days off are Wednesday and Sunday. You need to switch days for whatever reason, you put in a formal request with me, and I’ll see what I can do.”

I couldn’t get comfortable in the seat. The leather was too soft, and the air conditioning blasting in my face was making me sweat. My skin crawled with filth that wasn’t there, and my heart rate started to climb.

“You’re our second arrival, so you’ll be trained by Glitch or myself, with the assistance of some volunteers when time permits.”

I nodded but didn’t care for him to elaborate.

Chancey pulled off the highway and down a long, paved driveway framed by two stone pillars that held the same emblem as his truck. I’d been right—his suit was expensive but not as expensive as this place. The f*ckin’ lawn looked like it had been manicured to within an inch of its life.

He turned left onto a smaller driveway that was hidden by larger trees and slowed to a stop in front of what I thought was a house.

“This is The Shed,” he said, turning off the engine and opening his door.

Didn’t look like any shed I’d ever seen. In fact, it looked bigger than any house I’d ever lived in.

The outside was made of wood paneling and the roof had new-looking shingles. A small porch with two chairs led to the front door, which was currently open save for the screen door, and there was a rock-faced chimney jutting out of the roof.

I grabbed my leather jacket and envelope and followed him inside.

“There are six rooms, so the facility can accommodate up to six parolees at a time, but like I said, you’re only our second to arrive. There are shared living quarters and a phone in the kitchen. The staff keeps the fridge stocked, so if you need somethin’ special, write it down on the list and they’ll dock it from your pay.” Chancey walked to the second door in the hallway and pushed it open. “This is your room, bathrooms are down the hall. There’s a toothbrush and shampoo to get you started.”

It wasn’t anything special. There was a double bed against one wall, a dresser, and a nightstand.

“Laundry is around back, and you’ll have to coordinate times with the rest of the parolees as they arrive. Glitch will show you where the boxes of extra work clothes are. Feel free to help yourself to what’s there. Like I said, you want somethin’ special, you’ll have to work for it.”

The man talked like he commanded an army.

“Go on and get settled. I’ll be back in an hour with Glitch to go over your training schedule.”

I tossed my leather jacket onto the bed.

“One last thing.” He narrowed his eyes at me from the doorway. “I’m a nice guy, Rhys, but if you f*ck with the bull, you’ll get the horns. Are we clear?”

I nodded.





WHILE I HAD ACCEPTED GRANT’s job offer, I didn’t start until the first week of June. He needed time to get the program underway before he tackled the task of training me for the summer position. Which meant, for the rest of this month, I’d remain a Sunday volunteer as per usual.

“Morning, Grant.” I leaned a hip against the door to his office.

His chin tipped up to look at me and his glasses fell back to their proper position on his nose, a nose that was buried in a mountain of paperwork. “There’s my girl.” He beamed.

In the seven years I’d be volunteering at Equine for Hearts, Grant had aged considerably. He was the sole founder of the organization, but the cause took a toll on his heart. Grant’s wife had died during childbirth, and his only child, a daughter, died at the young age of fifteen. She was the victim of a drive-by shooting at a local café in Edmonton. The police caught the man who shot her; in fact he wasn’t a man at all. He was barely seventeen at the time. The shooting had been a gang initiation, and Grant’s daughter had been one of three teenagers pronounced dead at the scene.

Since the day of her funeral, Grant made it his life’s work to rehabilitate those under the influence of violence.

He believed in second chances, and I believed in him.

“How’s it going this weekend?” I asked, flicking my eyes to the stacks of paper.

Grabbing the rim of his reading glasses, he tossed them on the desk and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let’s just say I’ll be looking forward to having a little more help around here.”

I smiled and looked at the clock. It was nearly eight in the morning, and most of the youth and volunteers should have arrived by now.

“I’m happy to start earlier if you need me to,” I offered, but he shook his head.

“That’s all right, Aurora. I’ve got some fine-tuning that needs to be done with the new program before I can even think about explaining all of this”—he gestured to the papers littered across his desk—“to you.”

“Okay, well, I’m around if you need me,” I said. “But I better go find Josh before he decides to spray paint one of the horses.”