21. Lucas

Chapter twenty-one

Lucas

February 19

I switch up the grip on my rasp, spinning it to slide the handle into a loop on the side of my tool belt. I’m not usually an eavesdropper, but my ears perk up hearing the stable manager and lead therapeutic riding instructor chatting at the end of the alley.

“Hey,” I call out, dropping the pastern and standing to look toward the two women. “Sorry to startle you. I heard you talking about wanting to make some pamphlets or something for the kids camp.”

“Uh…” The stable manager’s eyes flit from me, to her trainer, then back. “Yeah, we want some kid-friendly booklets about horse care, riding, that kind of thing.”

“My g—I know a really talented illustrator.”

“You do?” Crystal, the lead trainer, raises an eyebrow.

“I do. She doesn’t usually illustrate this type of stuff.” Heat rises in my cheeks at the recollection of Eira’s drawings. “But she’s so talented, I’m sure she could do it. I’ll text you her contact info.”

“Incredible. Um… thanks, Lucas?”

With a silent nod, I head back to the senior mare waiting for me to finish her back left foot.

Lucas

You okay with me passing on your number for some potential illustration work?

Eira

Did you finally find that rich art gallery owner you mentioned?

Lucas

Not exactly. The stable wants some kids books made up about basic horse care.

Less thrilling than drawing me naked, I’m sure. But one commission closer to full-time illustrating.

Eira

Yes, please. You don’t know how badly I needed that kind of good news today

Sending her a lengthy chain of heart emojis, my own falls heavy into my gut. I hate knowing she’s having a hard day and, even though we’ll talk on the phone tonight, I can’t be there to pour her a glass of bourbon and run her a hot bath. I can’t be there.

Fuck, I hate that.

The house is dark and desolate when I pull my truck into the driveway. A light on in the cabin catches my eye, and I let out an involuntary huff when the car parked outside clearly isn’t Eira’s. It never is, but I can’t help myself from feeling a tiny speck of hope every time. Holly’s secured a fair number of bookings, and as annoyed as I am about occasionally having to help with the wood stove or get a car without proper tires unstuck from the end of the driveway, the income’s chipping away at the weight on my shoulders. If she’s right, it’ll be even busier during the spring and summer months, and I won’t need to stress about feeding animals next winter regardless of the hay supply.

A small black cat sits in the big living room window, and she stretches her front paws along the windowsill when she sees me coming up the steps. A resounding, “you’re late” meow blares through the quiet home before I’ve even had the chance to take off my shoes. Then suddenly she’s purring and circling my feet.

“Oh, bullshit. You’re sucking up because I’m late feeding you dinner.”

Another meow. Sassier.

It’s a challenge to walk to the kitchen without tripping over her, since she insists on weaving between my legs. In a past life, she might’ve been a herding dog.

“Cool your jets. You and I both know you won’t touch the kibble if I don’t add that foul wet stuff first. If I fall and break my wrist, you’ll be fucked since you lack the ability to use a can opener.”

Her meows grow louder with every passing second, and I shoot a glare at her, taking my sweet fucking time dishing up the grub. When the bowl clangs on the floor, the devil cat nearly takes my hand off to get at it. I gave her extra wet food tonight, knowing she’s one to hold a grudge about me getting home late.

I grab my phone and lean against the counter. Gnawing my cheek, I stare at my realtor’s contact profile, debating throwing all this away to chase after her. Given my tendency to throw caution to the wind and fly by the seat of my pants, I’m probably the only person who would be surprised by me suddenly uprooting my life.

I’ve never changed my life plans—or made new ones—because of a woman. But I’ve said before that I’d bet the farm on Eira Davies. And now I’m prepared to make good on that. I just need to figure everything out discreetly before I say a word to her, because making a promise as big as this one will absolutely break her heart if it doesn’t work out.

Lucas

Miss you

Eira

Not as much as I miss you

Lucas

How much do you miss me?

Eira

My neighbours are probably getting real sick of hearing me moan your name

Lucas

What I wouldn’t give to be your neighbour.

Eira

Maybe I should book a weekend at the cabin and we can roleplay?

Lucas

Y ou’re saying I’d be able to hear you from that far away, baby?

Eira

I miss you THAT much.