Page 60 of Hunter or Hunted
“Can’t cut therapy either,” Rhiannon said. “So quit the job. You’re not making much money anyway.”
“But that’s one of the rules of the ranch, isn’t it?” Jaylynn asked. “We have to work to live here, right?”
“I’ve got a few hours open at the general store.” It sat a mile or two down the road from the ranch’s entrance. They sold surplus vegetables they grew in the greenhouses there, as well as some random oddities the ladies in town made in their free time. “It’s almost walking distance, so you won’t be falling asleep on your way home. You can do one shift a week and make a little extra pocket money. At least until we’re out of this intensive phase of therapy. Soon, you’ll only need biweekly sessions. Maybe monthly. Then we can revisit your job. But you’ve got the cafeteria for food, you’ve got a roof in the apartment. Spend this time to focus on your studies, your baby, and your mental health. We can figure out the rest later, all right?”
Jaylynn gushed her thanks, Rhiannon waved her off, and her watch dinged again.
7:15.
Self-defense training.
Off to the gym she went.
Along with Axel, she trained two classes by 9 A.M. At which point, her watch dinged, reminding her of her 9:15 appointment with Kylie. That went on until 10, another followed until 11, and a third that ended at noon. At 12 on the dot, Billy texted her back, confirming he would investigate the thermostat in the rec center.
From noon ‘til 1, she coached a botany class in the greenhouse. A small thing, a silly thing, but a heart hobby. Rhiannon only had a few of those, and she nurtured them. If she didn’t, if she didn’t prioritize the few little things in her life that she’d loved before this ranch, she wouldn’t be able to run the ranch.
She spent 2 to 3 in the cafeteria, chatting with at least thirty different women. She knew them all by name, but reciting every conversation would take an hour. They all mattered, they all needed help in their own ways, but one of those women was walking around with her clothes on fire. She needed to stop, drop, and roll, but she kept walking through that cafeteria, hand in hand with a little pigtailed girl. As if everyone around her didn’t smell the smoke.
While Simone spooned mac and cheese onto Junie’s plate, Rhiannon snatched a cookie from further down the buffet, pasted on a smile and walked to the little girl, holding it out. “Have you ever tried a rodeo cookie, kiddo?”
“I don’t think so.” Junie studied it and cocked her head to the side. “What’s in it?”
“You try it first, and then I’ll tell you.” But just as Junie reached for it, Simone looked at it with hearts in her eyes. Which worked well. “Actually, how about we give this one to Mommy, and you can go grab a few of your own?” Rhiannon handed it to Simone, then gestured down the buffet for Junie. “They’re down there, at the end.”
Grinning, Junie all but skipped past them.
“Thanks,” Simone managed out between chews, shaking the cookie. “Pretty damn good.”
“One of my favorites.” Rhiannon smiled again, surveying the dark circles under Simone’s eyes, the heaviness of her posture. “How are you doing, kid?”
Simone raised a shoulder. “Honestly, ready for the holiday to be over and get back to work. I’ve had way too much time alone with my thoughts lately.”
“How about we squeeze you in an extra session tonight?” Rhiannon would have to push back her other heart hobby, but she could make up for it tomorrow. “Letting some of those thoughts out might help.”
“No, that’s alright. I got Junie a new gaming system for Christmas and she wants to play it with me tonight.” Simone smiled back, but it was a little sad. “I’ll make it ‘til our session next week. Thank you, though.”
“If you insist.” Rhiannon raised both hands in surrender, walking backward toward the exit to make her 3 o’clock appointment. “But if you need anything, you give me a call.”
Simone didn’t call. Rhiannon’s schedule was so packed she didn’t really mind, but she did worry. If Rhiannon were good at anything, it was scheduling and worrying. Her mom used to say that it was because she was a Virgo. Rhiannon’s psychology education taught her that it had far more to do with the way her mother had raised her.
She had a few more appointments, then a quick dinner at the cafeteria, followed by a group therapy session at 7 P.M. Billy got the heat working by then. The girls still bundled in blankets as they talked about their feelings and their trauma. By 8 P.M., with things winding down, Rhiannon concluded she would have just enough time for her other heart hobby.
After loading into her Jeep, she drove up the ridge, down the mountain, to the big red barn. Rhiannon shut down her engine, slid open the door, and headed inside. Andrea tended to a young horse in the stall at the end.
She greeted Rhiannon. “Here I was, thinking you wouldn’t make it down here today.”
“By the hair on my chinny chin chin.” Rhiannon stretched into the closet and gathered up all her necessities. The saddle, the blanket, her boots. Stepping into them, she said, “How’s my girl today?”
“In a surprisingly good mood,” Andrea said, still hunched over the last stall. “She even let me brush her.”
“That’s a step in the right direction.” Rhiannon carted all the odds and ends past the first few stalls, cooing at the horses inside. When she made it to the last, warmth spread all through her body, casting away the chill in the air.
Bubbles stood on the other side. The light caught her eyes just right and flickered off her amber irises. Her copper coat practically glowed in the moonlight out the window behind her.
Rhiannon would never call Bubbles a noble steed. She’d gotten her for free at only a few months old from a farmer who couldn’t give Rhiannon much information on her origins. She had a temper, no one could ride her, and she wasn’t fast enough to keep for sport. If someone didn’t take her, he was going to sell her for glue.
But Rhiannon liked her temper, and Bubbles always let Rhiannon ride her. She had kicked a time or two but never bucked when Rhiannon sat on her back. The other folks who worked at the stables could never get a handle on her.
