Promise Canyon (Virgin River #13)(37)

Lilly decided to see how Gabe handled it, both out of curiosity and because she wasn't sure what to say.

Gabe put out a hand. "Want me to take care of him, Dad?"

"No," Clay said. "He's going to wait till I'm f**king ready." His eyes darted briefly to Lilly. "Pardon," he said for the profanity, leading the horse--still trapped in the despised saddle--to his stall.

Despite her best efforts, Lilly couldn't remain quiet. "What did you hurt? Ankle, knee, hip, back?"

"All of the above," he grumbled, moving the horse into his stall. "I might leave the saddle on all night, you ungrateful beast."

The horse lifted his head and shook it. It almost appeared as if Streak smiled, and Lilly thought, My, my, doesn't he have the biggest teeth? She covered her own smile with her hand.

"Excuse me," Clay said. "I'll be back." And he walked out of the barn.

When he was gone Gabe said, "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to find him some ice. He's going to clean up, put ice on something for a little while, then take the saddle off Streak and make up. But Streak will have to show some remorse."

"Remorse?"

"Uh-huh. Which he will do after about a half hour of itching because he's cooled down with no brush. Leaving the saddle on will annoy him."

"How will he show that remorse?" Lilly asked.

"With subtlety. But my dad can hear him think. And Streak can hear my dad think. And I can guarantee, Streak's been hearing my dad think all the way from whatever place he dumped him. Just makes me glad every day of my life that I can only hear him when he talks. I'll be--"

"I'll get the ice for him," she said, interrupting him. "Where will I find ice?"

"In Doc's surgery, in the freezer. Um, you'd better holler in. Dad could be...you know...not dressed."

"I'll holler," she said. Then she went quickly before Gabe could talk her out of it.

So--he hears the horses! She had thought so. Not because he'd wowed her with this ability, but because he'd questioned whether she had it, too. She didn't hear them, but she did often get a sense of what was going on with them, in their minds or with their emotional instability. She thought she felt them sometimes. But she was never sure she was right.

She found the ice, went to Clay's quarters and knocked on the door, but there was no answer. She opened the door and, looking down and covering her eyes with her hand like a visor, she called, "Clay?" Again, no answer. "Coming in," she announced to the sound of the shower. There was no response. She tapped on the door frame outside the bathroom. "Clay?"

"What?" he yelled unhappily.

"I have ice. Wrap a towel around yourself and I'll keep my eyes closed until you find something to cover up with."

"Leave the ice and go away!" he called out of the shower.

She laughed. A bounce off the back of a little boy stallion didn't do much to ease his disposition. "I'm staying so try not to embarrass either of us. Just let me look at your hand and cheek. You must have been totally unprepared." And she tried to keep another laugh under her hand.

"Go away!"

"Nah, I'm staying."

The shower finally turned off. She trained her eyes on the floor. She heard the partially closed bathroom door squeak, then the sound of a drawer, followed by the words, "You can open your eyes."

He hadn't sounded real pleasant, so she lifted her eyes slowly, carefully. She connected with a safe place--his eyes. "So, Gabe told me--you talk to the horses. They talk to you."

"Not always. 'I'm going to buck you off' would've been nice to hear," he said.

She laughed. She let her eyes lower and almost breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of his sweatpants. But the sigh caught in her throat when she realized he was still shirtless--and as amazing as a statue. Tall, buff, his shoulders wide and hard, tattoos on both biceps, his wet hair falling long and unbound, curling in tendrils to his waist. It was enough to make her wet her pants. Gabe was pretty, but Clay was a breathtaking mountain of a man. Like nothing she had ever seen in her life. She looked down again.

"What hurts?" she asked.

"Hip, knee, face, hand."

"Back?"

"No more than usual."

"I better get more ice."

"Forget the ice," he said irritably. "I'll ice later. I have to take care of that blasted horse."

"Why don't Gabe and I take care of that while you..."

"It has to be me," he said. "If it's not me, the horse will think he's in control and has gotten away with something. Why are you here?"

"Honestly? To see you. I wanted to learn more about your family. I wondered if you were married or something."

"Didn't we go over that?" he asked, his brows drawing together.

"Man, are you in a mood! We talked about it briefly, very briefly, before your seventeen-year-old son suddenly appeared. But never mind, he's told me a lot about the whole...situation. I hope you don't mind."

"It's not a secret, for God's sake. And it's more Gabe's story to tell than mine." He rubbed his hand down his face and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. The horse pissed me off. He was doing fine till he decided he wanted a little power struggle. The mangy beast."