Page 7 of Take Me Home

My tires crunch along the gravel driveway for a quarter of a mile before the rock turns into pavement and Hank Daniel’s massive log cabin appears in the center of his sprawling property. Hank’s two Australian Shepherds come running toward my truck with their tongues and tails wagging. I slow down and pull up to the mare barn.

When I step out, the dogs nearly trample me trying to get attention. “Hey, Bandit.” I pat the lighter dog’s head, then the darker one. “And hello, Bronco.” Bronco licks my face.

Once they’ve received enough attention, they run off to do God-knows-what. They’re just about the most spoiled cattle dogs you’ll ever meet.

Hank and his father, Otto, come out of the large horse barn, striding towards me. They’re fully dressed in coveralls and have their gloves in hand.

Hank grins at me. “Ready to get the back fence fixed up?”

I scoff. “The hundredth time is the charm.”

The fence in the back west field is notoriously faulty—and the most difficult to get to, as there’s a rocky river running through it. We’ve fixed the damn thing a dozen times with different materials, and the cattle are always breaking it down and getting through. Which is a big problem, seeing as cows and rocky rivers don’t mix well.

“I’m taking the ATV,” Otto says, scrunching his wrinkled brow. “You two are on horseback.” Otto is a workhorse for his age. He should probably be retired by now. He’s got to be pushing seventy-five.

Otto strides off toward the four-car garage connected to the cabin and I follow Hank inside the heated horse barn. The warmth feels so good that I try not to think about how cold we’re going to be in the field today. I prefer working with the horses, but Hank pays me a good salary to work for him full-time doing whatever he needs.

Two mares are saddled and waiting. Hank steps toward Kitty, his favorite mare, and scratches behind her ears. “Did you bring thick gloves, Linc? It’s gonna be a cold one today.”

Hank studies me, his hair grayer than auburn these days. But it still has a reddish hue to it when he’s standing in the sunlight. My dad used to tease him, saying Hank had the prettiest auburn hair and all the girls in school were jealous of it. It’s strange to watch how my dad’s best friend has aged in the last few years, to see the changes that would’ve happened to my dad, too. Deeper wrinkles on his brow and around his eyes, more gray hair, rougher skin. I’ll never see my dad grow old.

“I’ll be fine, Hank,” I finally answer. I appreciate him being protective, since there’s no one else to feel protective of me anymore.

“All right.” He shrugs and hoists himself onto Kitty’s back.

I follow suit, giving Dolly a few ear scratches before getting in the saddle.

“Oh, before I forget,” Hank says, grabbing the reins. “I’ve got a client that I need you to pick up at the airport tomorrow. I have an appointment I can’t miss, so you’ll have to take your truck. I’ll reimburse you for gas.”

I grit my teeth, my stomach lurches with dread. I’ve always tried to avoid dealing with Hank’s snooty equestrian clients. I’m not a people person on the best day…dealing with Pony Club patrons isn’t in my skill set. But now, since my parents’ accident, it’s not the customer service I’m dreading. It’s that I can hardly even think about a plane without panic turning my blood to ice, prickling my skin, and making each breath come faster.

To shuttle a client from the airport, I’ll be right up close to the planes. I’ll need to drive past the runways and listen to the loud roars of the engines as planes take off and land. I’ve never admitted this fear to anyone, and I’m not starting now. I can suck it up and be a man about this. I can force myself to push through it.

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need you,” Hank says, like he’s reading my mind.

“Text me the flight info,” I say, trying to keep my expression impassive instead of terrified.

He nods, and we begin the hour-long ride toward the creek.

CHAPTER 3

Hattie

My flight into the Missoula, Montana Airport lands, and I take my phone off airplane mode, only to be inundated with missed calls and texts. All from my mother except for one text from Blair.

I ignore my mother but pull up my text from Blair.

Blair

Hope everything goes okay today! You’re the bravest person I know. Love you!

I smile and text her back.

Hattie

Thank you just landed.

Once I get off the plane, I grab my Burberry luggage from baggage claim—courtesy of Burberry, one company that sponsors me. Perks of medaling in the Olympics. I head outside to find my shuttle and shiver in the cold Montana air. Fall in Montana feels much different from Northern California. Whispering Pines Ranch is nearly two hours from the airport, so I arranged transportation via the ranch’s website. I’m here under the guise of someone looking to breed a thoroughbred. The ranch has a guest cabin on site where buyers can stay, and thankfully, it was available.