Chapter Five

THE KITCHEN emptied not long after Russ left. The other two men, Jon and Ernesto, said their goodbyes and headed home, and Phyllis went to her own bedroom as soon as she’d helped him dry a few dishes, showed him where everything went, and told him to make himself at home.

Now that he was alone, the house was almost painfully quiet. Jordan had forgotten how early everyone went to bed on a ranch. The sun wasn’t even down yet and everyone had disappeared. Of course, the last time he’d been there, he’d been barely ten and had run himself into exhaustion every day before the adults went to bed, so he’d never really paid much attention.

Phyllis might actually be going to her room to sleep, given her age and how early they had to get up in the morning. But he’d lay odds that Russ was a long way from going to bed. If the looks he’d gotten were any indication, he just didn’t want to get stuck alone with Jordan. No one at the ranch knew why he was there, so it couldn’t be the gay thing. Even people who prided themselves on their gaydar told him he didn’t set it off unless he chose to, so maybe it was just the outsider thing.

Was he being too sensitive?

Maybe Russ was just an asshole… except he’d seemed friendly enough with everyone else.

Such a waste of a gorgeous piece of manflesh.

After putting the last dish away, Jordan let out a heavy sigh and smoothed the wrinkles in his shirt. He wandered out of the kitchen and into what had to be the family room. Worn, mismatched furniture sat on a braided blue-and-cream rug, crowding the center of the room. Pictures lined the bookcases and TV stand, as well as the wall along the staircase, from floor to ceiling. There was even an old one of him and his family on the ranch from forever ago, all five Thorndikes smiling and looking happy. He’d quickly averted his gaze when he’d spotted it earlier, and he tried hard to avoid looking at it again now.

The house had obviously never seen a decorator, and much of the décor was trapped in the last century, but it seemed like the definition of what people would call homey. By contrast, the same could not be said for any room in his parents’ houses. His mother had excellent taste, the rooms were always beautiful, but like a museum, not a home—look but don’t touch. He might actually prefer this place, even though it was all alien to him.

On impulse, he flopped into a recliner in the corner and popped the footrest up. His dad had a leather recliner in his office, but Jordan couldn’t actually remember ever seeing him kicked back in it, relaxing. Of course, that might have been because his father had hardly been in a mood to relax on any of the many occasions Jordan had been summoned to his office.

Never good enough, even before I nuked my life.

His stomach twisted, and tension returned to his neck and shoulders. He was beginning to regret the spicy chili he’d eaten earlier, but it had been really good. If he wasn’t careful, he’d gain ten pounds in no time with Phyllis’s cooking. Still, even without a gym, he imagined he’d get a decent workout every day on the ranch. They’d probably have him shoveling shit to start. That was what the stable manager at home had done that first week before he’d let Jordan on his very first pony, as some sort of sacred equestrian initiation or something. Phyllis’s husband had done it on the ranch too, until Jordan’s parents had objected to the manure he’d tracked into their rooms at night.

He was the newbie, after all, and if they thought he couldn’t handle a little shit work—literally—they had another think coming. Hard, back-breaking, mind-numbing labor was exactly why he was there. He wanted to go until he collapsed, just like he did at the gym, to exorcise his demons. He wanted to barely be able to lift his arms by the end of the day so he could collapse into oblivion at eight o’clock at night like the rest of them, instead of being left alone, tortured by his thoughts.

Hopping up, he prowled that room a little more before wandering through the rest of the downstairs. Unfortunately, nothing held his attention for long. He thought about getting drunk, but the only alcohol he could find was a couple of beers in the refrigerator and a couple of bottles of wine in the pantry, and he wasn’t comfortable opening any of it without asking. He still had what was left of the bottle of bourbon stashed in his bag, but just thinking about it made him a little queasy. It wasn’t as if he needed the calories, and starting his first day of work hungover wouldn’t exactly win him any brownie points either.

Too keyed up to sleep or even sit still for a movie or show on his tablet, he stepped out into the slowly fading light and headed for the barn. As soon as he crossed the threshold and the smells of horse and hay enveloped him, his shoulders slumped and the ache in his chest eased again.

Yes. This is what I needed.

After his last horse, Wiley, had been put down, his parents hadn’t bothered getting him another, since he was away at school for most of the year. He’d avoided going home as much as humanly possible in the last couple of years, which meant he hadn’t been in a stable in months. He’d almost forgotten the Zen he felt just from being around horses, he’d been so caught up with everything else going on in his life.

The horses had obviously been settled in for the night, but in the light from the open door, as well as the dim glow from a dozen or so small lights set along the floor down the main aisle, he could see a few curious heads had popped out of the stalls at his approach. Wishing he’d thought to bring apples or some other treat from the kitchen by way of introduction, Jordan held out his palm a safe distance from the nearest animal.

“Hey there,” he murmured encouragingly, “I think we’re going to be working together for a while.”

The B STAR was a rescue ranch, so even though it had been quite a few years, Jordan still remembered Sean and Phyllis’s warnings. He didn’t know the history of any of these animals, so he had to stay alert, but he also shouldn’t broadcast any nervousness they could pick up on. Whatever the reason the large black in front of him had come to the ranch, it didn’t appear to have been abused, because the animal nuzzled and lipped his palm, looking for treats with no hesitation before bumping Jordan’s hand with his muzzle, begging for scratches when it didn’t find anything edible.

Jordan chuckled and another knot in his chest eased. “You’re a friendly one, aren’t you?”

The black gazed at him with big dark eyes that reflected the fading sunlight from the door, and nudged him with its graying muzzle again, eliciting another chuckle. “And bossy too. That’s okay. I don’t mind bossy.”

He kept up a litany of nonsense as he petted and praised the animal. He didn’t go so far as to enter the stall, but the horse didn’t seem to mind. It closed its eyes and lifted its head to give him better access.

Happiness and peace spread through him as he petted the warm sleek coat and the horse made happy little chuffing noises. This was a good idea, coming to the ranch. This was exactly what he needed.

The black whickered when Jordan stepped away, but he kept going down the line, surveying each occupied stall as big eyes studied him in return. He took his time, moving slowly and quietly, but even so, several of the other horses shied away and whickered nervously if he got within even a few feet of them. None were quite as puppyish and friendly as the black in the front, but Jordan didn’t mind.

“You guys are going to get used to me. You’ll see.”

At the end of the row, separated by a few empty stalls from the others, a head poked out. The area was mostly dark, so he only caught a glimpse of a horse several hands shorter than the others. He moved a little closer to get a better look, but it ducked back inside and neighed nervously before kicking at the door a couple of times.

“Okay, sweetie. I get the message. I’m backing up now. No worries. We’ll make proper introductions another time.”

“What are you doing in here?”

He nearly jumped out of his skin at the gruff demand barked at him from somewhere near the door.

“You shouldn’t be out here before we’ve had a chance to walk you through. These aren’t your show ponies and pampered pets. The B STAR can’t afford the hit to our insurance if you get hurt,” Russ continued when Jordan didn’t answer.

Russ had barely spoken two words to him before then, but Jordan had a feeling he’d know that voice anywhere.

Jordan closed the distance between them, and when he was about ten feet away, he squared off with the man. “I’ve been around horses my whole life, and for your information, I’ve been here before. Sean and Phyllis have both given me ‘the speech’ enough times that I’m pretty sure I can remember it, verbatim, even if it has been a few years.”

Russ’s eyes narrowed and his jaw worked a second before he said, “Well, maybe you should hear it again before you go strolling through the barn like you own the place.”

“I didn’t—”

“And anyway,” Russ cut him off, “these animals have been through enough in their lives. The last thing they need is someone pestering them when they’re trying to get a little shut-eye. They get enough of that bullshit on the weekends, when the well-meaning but useless come down from town to do their good deed for the month.”

“I know what I’m doing in a stable. I wasn’t pestering anyone,” Jordan gritted out through clenched teeth. “I was only saying hello.”

“How the hell would I know if you know what you’re doing?”

“Phyllis does. She knows me.”

“Phyl ain’t in charge of the horses anymore. I am. And you won’t get anywhere near ’em unless I say so. Got it?”

Jordan opened his mouth to tell the asshole just where he could shove his attitude, but snapped it shut again. Restless rustling behind him, accompanied by a few nervous snorts, reminded him they were doing exactly the opposite of what he was trying to convince Russ. It wasn’t exactly his fault. Russ was the one being a dick, but Jordan obviously wasn’t going to get anywhere arguing, and he really didn’t want to get into a fight with the foreman his first night there. He’d talk to Phyllis in the morning. She’d understand.

Without another word, Jordan swept around him and headed for the house. He didn’t run. He didn’t stomp. He calmly returned to his room and quietly shut the door behind him before leaning against it and flipping both middle fingers in the direction of the barn.

Apparently, Russ was going to be a bit of an obstacle to Jordan’s search for the Zen he needed to figure out his next step. Russ might have decided not to like him, for some unknown reason, but Jordan needed this place too badly to let some super-hot asshole get in his way.

After closing his eyes and taking a few breaths, he rolled his shoulders, kicked off his shoes, and got undressed. On the bed, he propped himself on a pile of pillows and stared up at the ceiling for a while until his temper cooled.

He could do this. He wasn’t so fragile that one jerk would send him running. Besides, he didn’t have anywhere else to go.

He’d been caught off guard. He wasn’t himself these days—whoever that was—so he hadn’t even tried to turn on the charm. He’d do better tomorrow. He’d figure out how to win Russ over eventually, if it killed him. No one withstood the Thorndike charm forever.