Page 21 of Take Me Home

The pain lurking beneath the surface of his expression has the anger I feel toward my mother surging to the forefront of my mind. Her lie caused this man to miss holding me as a baby, watching my first steps, seeing my first riding lesson. I might not be a parent, but I can imagine how devastating that must be.

“Well, I have a best friend back home. Her name is Blair,” I start. “We’ve been friends since kindergarten.” Smiling fondly, I consider what else Hank might like to know. “I started riding when I was five, and when I was thirteen, I taught riding lessons every summer.” My anger fades as I think of teaching the kids, seeing them master a new skill. I looked forward to it every year. “Except this past summer I didn’t teach lessons. My Olympic schedule made it impossible.”

“I bet.” He hums. “I would’ve loved to see you win an Olympic medal.” Hank’s mouth twitches with the hint of a smile.

“It’s online. I’ll show you and Otto tomorrow…if you want.”

“I’d like that.” He nods, shooting me a smile. “Tell me more.”

I laugh. “Okay, in college, I studied equine science. Blair was my roommate.”

He nods, not taking his eyes off the road. “Is your friend a horse girl, too?”

I sniff a laugh through my nose. “No, she’s a wine girl. Her fiancé’s family owns a winery.”

Hank laughs. “I imagine you’re a wine lover, as well? Living in wine country and all.”

“Yes, it comes with the territory in Sonoma.”

“You’ll have to let me know what you like, and I’ll keep it stocked in the house,” he says.

His comment seeps straight into my heart. The simple thoughtfulness, the assumption I’ll spend time here…enough to have my own stock of wine.

I nod. “Okay, I’ll make a list.”

“Any boyfriends back in California?” he asks in a teasing lilt. “Or girlfriends.”

Laughing, I shake my head. “None of those. How about you?”

He sniffs a laugh through his nose. “The only girls I have time for are the kind that neigh.”

A hearty laugh bubbles out of me. Hank laughs, too.

“Never been married?” I ask, still chuckling.

Hank slowly shakes his head. “Never even came close.”

I want to ask more, to pry and be nosy, but I don’t. Hank Daniels is a wealthy, successful man. He’s still in good shape for his age, with a handsome face. I’m surprised no one has snatched him up.

The dirt road turns into smooth pavement as we come into the quaint, charming small town. My eyes widen when I spot a badger meandering down Main Street. I gasp, bringing my hand to my mouth.

Being from California, I’m used to seeing wildlife, but I’ve never seen a badger before. The adorable mammal is moseying about without a care in the world.

“That’s Harry. He’s mostly harmless but always keep an eye out for wildlife around here. Especially bears.”

“Harry,” I muse, staring at the badger. He’s adorable, with his striped face and furry coat. “He’s so cute. It’s too bad they’re not cuddly.”

“Don’t let his adorable face fool you. He’s not cuddly.” Hank smirks, parking in front of a business about halfway down Main St. The glass window reads Dr. Jackson Miller M.D.

Hank and I unbuckle and head inside the clinic, where a receptionist smiles at us. She’s probably mid-to-late forties, and pretty with dirty-brown hair and faint wrinkles around her rich brown eyes.

“Mr. Daniels,” she says. “Good to see you.”

Hank’s shoulders straighten, and I swear there’s a pink tinge to his cheeks. “Hank is fine.”

“Hank, then,” she says, turning to me. “And who do we have here?”

“I’m Harriet Townsend.”