Читать книгу Home to Hope Mountain - Joan Kilby - Страница 12

CHAPTER FOUR

HAYLEY PASSED HER own driveway and carried on to Timbertop. Entering Adam’s green and leafy forest she felt like Dorothy leaving black-and-white Kansas and landing in the colorful land of Oz. The untouched bush was so beautiful it almost hurt.

She pulled up in front of the two-story log home and sat in her truck for a moment, taking in the house, barn, detached garage and guest cottage. A wave of resentment washed over her. Every building was intact, untouched by fire. The paddock was lush with tall grass, watered by winter rains. Then she remembered the paddock and barn were empty and her resentment was tempered by sadness for Summer’s horse, Bailey.

She climbed down from the truck and headed toward the house before she chickened out. Shane jumped out and followed her, a perpetual shadow at her heels.

Adam came around the side of the barn, a brush cutter balanced in his gloved hands. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing muscled forearms. With a smear of dirt on his square jaw and his dark brown hair windblown, he looked less like an office worker and more like a man who tended the land. “Hayley, what brings you out?”

She removed her hat and pushed back the strands of hair that had come loose from her braid. “I’d like to take you up on your offer to graze my horses on your property. That is, if you meant it.”

“I meant it. Better that than brush-cut the whole outdoors.” His gaze roamed over her and she was glad she’d worn her blue blouse tucked into clean, relatively new jeans and her good cowboy boots. “What made you change your mind?”

“I...” she swallowed at the humiliation of coming cap in hand, then glanced at her hat, literally in her hands, and jammed it back on her head “...just hate to see good pasture go to waste. But I don’t want something for nothing. I’ll treat Summer in exchange for the feed.”

“That would be great. But I insist on paying your usual fee. Did someone drop out of the Horses for Hope program?”

“I can do it, is all.” What difference did it make what her reasons were? She didn’t want to tell Adam all the stuff going on in her life and let him inside her head. She might start crying again.

“Okay,” he said. “Well, bring your horses over anytime. When could you begin the therapy?”

“Soon. Tomorrow afternoon, even. I suggest alternating a day on and a day off. Give both horse and girl a rest.”

“Wonderful. Come inside and have a cup of coffee. We can tell Summer together, talk about what she can expect.”

“There’s not much to talk about. When I do talk, it’ll just be with Summer.” He looked taken aback at her blunt statement. Damn. Her nerves were on edge and she couldn’t even manage common civility. “I work with horses, but it’s still therapy,” she explained, aiming for a nicer tone. “Everything that passes between Summer and me is confidential.”

“I’m her father. I have a right to know what’s going on.” Adam hefted the brush cutter in one hand, freeing up the other. Not threatening but...assertive.

Hayley, trained in body language, noticed. She made a conscious effort not to take a step back. Things weren’t going to be smooth between them. She needed to get used to that. And not care.

“You have a right to expect that I’ll do the best job I can, and that I’ll work with Summer until she no longer needs me. Beyond that, you’ll know whatever Summer chooses to tell you.”

He looked like he wanted to protest further but instead he shut his mouth and nodded. “Whatever you say. I’m grateful you’ve found time for her.”

She had to admire his ability to be gracious under duress. “Well, see you tomorrow— Damn.”

“What is it? Is there a problem?”

“No, not with Summer or the horses. I just forgot to buy candles when I was in town.” She glanced at her watch. “If I hurry I might make it before the store shuts.”

“Diane has a million tea lights and scented candles. You’re welcome to them. Come inside.”

She started to protest, then stopped. She wasn’t going to quibble about a few candles at this stage. “Well, all right. Thanks.” Hayley followed him up the shallow steps onto the veranda and into the kitchen, telling Shane to stay outside.

Adam found a plastic bag and filled it with candles from a drawer. He tossed in a lighter. “Why do you need these? Has your power gone out? Ours is still on.”

“Yeah, well, it’s kind of a limited outage.”

“When will it be back on?”

This guy asked way too many questions. “As soon as I pay my bill.”

He laughed, then stopped when he saw she wasn’t smiling. “Are you kidding me?”

“It’s no big deal. I’ll sort it out soon.”

“I can pay you for Summer’s first session up front—”

“No, that’s totally unnecessary. I’ve got money.” Coming in the future, once she’d done two weeks’ work and Molly paid her wages. Molly would give her the money early if she requested but she wasn’t going to ask. Hayley reached for the bag of candles. “I’ll get out of your hair and let you get back to work.”

“If your power is out you won’t have any heating, either,” he said, scratching his head.

“I don’t need heat. Thanks for these.” She wished she’d never mentioned the electricity. That was what happened when you asked for even the smallest thing. People got a window into your life, and damn if they didn’t peer inside and have a good look around.

“Wait. I have something else for you.” He opened the pantry and handed her another two bags. “Sugar.”

A bag of white and one of brown, just as he’d promised. Her stiffness melted right away at his thoughtfulness. Oh, boy, was she in trouble. He was making it impossible to dislike him. “Thank you.”

He badgered her all the way to her truck. “Do you have any place to stay until it’s sorted? Friends, family?”

“Of course. But I can’t leave my horses.” She opened the truck door so Shane could jump in, then she climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

Adam put a hand on the open window, effectively preventing her from driving away. “I’ve got an idea.”

“Whatever it is, it probably won’t work.” She appreciated his help but hated seeing pity in his eyes, just like with the volunteers who manned the food and clothing distribution. Lining up for basic sustenance after the fires had been the most humiliating experience of her life.

“Is that the kind of advice you give your clients? How immensely you must help them.”

His teasing dragged a reluctant smile out of her. “Okay, now you’re channeling Oscar Wilde.”

“I was channeling a smart-ass. Why Oscar Wilde?”

“You’re kidding me, right? The Importance Of Being Earnest.” It was one of her favorite books among the hundreds she’d owned. All gone, burned along with her house. While Leif watched his sports on TV she would curl up with a book. It was no coincidence that her best friend was a librarian. She and Jacinta had bonded as ten-year-olds over Harriet the Spy. “You should try reading sometime. Broadens the mind.”

“Good advice, I’m sure.” The hint of laughter in his voice invited her to continue the banter.

Banter? How had they gone from her thinly veiled antagonism to bantering?

“I’d better get back and organize the horses. If they’re going to graze for a couple hours and get back before dark I have to start now.”

“First, listen to my idea. Why don’t you move into my guest cottage while you’re working with Summer? Your horses can use my stables as they eat down the grass, and Blaze can give birth in the comfort of a straw-lined box stall. In fact, they can have the hay stored in the barn. Now that Summer’s horse is gone I have no use for it.”

His steady gaze and deep voice betrayed nothing but sincerity. So much generosity was overwhelming, especially in the face of her standoffishness. “It’s kind of you but I can’t accept.”

“Why not? Give me one good reason.”

Her hand hovered over the key in the ignition. She didn’t have a good reason. All she had was her pride. “You don’t even know me and you’re inviting me to live in your cottage.”

“I thought neighbors helped each other in Hope Mountain. You’d be free to come and go and do whatever you normally do.”

It was tempting. Her garage would be cold and dark even with candles. But accepting would mean admitting she was a stone’s throw from being homeless. “No. Thank you, but no.”

“Hayley, it makes sense. I have this big house and a cottage and you’re toughing it out in a garage.”