Will stepped away, wiping his sweaty face. Lindsay saw how much he was shaking and figured him to be in as bad shape as she, thanks to too much booze the night before. She turned to face Anton with an apology on her lips but he just grabbed his hat from the dirt, shot her an inscrutable look, and disappeared into the barn.
“That, that … farm hand, he … took advantage of your sister and you’re gonna let him sneak off like a rat?” Will spit, and put his fists on his hips. His blond hair flopped down over his forehead, giving him that boyish look she remembered.
“Lindsay said he didn’t,” JR said, standing next to her. “I’m satisfied with that.”
“How could she even know?” Will pointed to her. “She was passed out drunk.”
Fury pounded along with her heartbeat. She took a step towards him. “I reckon I’d remember if he had, Will. Considering.”
He frowned at her then crossed his arms. “Those Eye-talians are a pack of sneaky liars. Your daddy needs to fire ‘em.”
“I reckon he’ll make up his own mind about that soon enough,” Frank said, standing next to his brother. “Go on home, Will. You reek of booze, among other things.”
Lindsay had caught a whiff of something—cheap perfume she finally realized—coming from Will’s flushed skin. He turned and stomped up to his car, hollering for Don, who scurried after him.
“I hate that son-of-a-bitch,” JR said mildly, draping an arm across her shoulders. She slumped against him, relieved that someone was on her side. “But, so help me baby sister, if you do anything with Tony Love, I’ll kill you my own self.” She jumped away from him and looked over at Frank, who was leaning against the fence. He nodded.
“Yeah, Linds. Best avoid him so as not to … tempt anything. Got it?”
A tear slipped down her cheek. “I hate you,” she said. “I hate this! All of this!” She realized she was screaming and heard Zelda neigh in response in the main barn, so she ran toward that sound, blinded by tears, miserable and intent on one thing—escape.
Chapter Seven
After an hour’s worth of riding, both horse and rider were out of breath. Lindsay slid to the ground at the edge of the Lucas River and led Zelda closer, encouraging her to splash into the shallow depths to cool off.
Zelda was revved up, she could tell. She kept nodding her huge head, as if she couldn’t come down off the adrenaline high from the too-fast, out-of-control way she’d been allowed to lead, with her young mistress’ hands light on the reins, whispering in her ear.
“That’s it, girl.” Lindsay splashed water up onto the animal’s neck. “You knew what I needed, didn’t you?” She stroked along Zelda’s side, sensing the quivery muscles, the just-under-the-skin urgency to resume the chase to nowhere.
Swiping at her eyes, furious at herself for crying yet again over her stupid life, Lindsay leaned against her horse’s shoulder. Zelda snorted, nickered, then dipped her head down to drink from the slow-flowing water.
After they’d both cooled some, Lindsay’s tears had dried up, leaving her with nothing but a sense of emptiness she wondered if anything would ever fill. She loved her father. But his tendency to spoil her and run roughshod over her brothers had not gone unnoticed once she’d gotten old enough to understand its central unfairness. She adored both Frank and JR, but if pressed, she’d confess that JR was a little standoffish, probably a function of his role as the eldest, the Halloran heir. Heir to what, she had no idea, of course. To Will Scott’s money, now, she supposed. Unless and until she squeezed out a few brats.
She hated her mother. Honest to goodness could not stand the woman. She could barely remember a time when they’d gotten along, or agreed about anything. But Gloria Runyan Halloran worshiped her sons. That much had been obvious from the start. It was as if Lindsay had been an afterthought, even an “oops,” although her Daddy claimed he had not lived until he watched her as a toddler, in her tiny riding suit, grinning ear-to-ear when she rode her first horse.
She sighed and flopped onto the grass, pulling bits up and tossing them into the air. What she wouldn’t give right now to have the sort of mother-daughter thing a few of her friends had. She was pea green with envy over the way Kathy and her mama would giggle together as if they were pals or sisters over silly things Kathy’s father would say. Or how they’d make a day of getting their hair done, complete with pretty colors for their nails.
“Go find your daddy,” Gloria would say when Lindsay had been young, but old enough to recall it, and needed homework help, or advice about her friends … or anything, really. When she’d woken up one morning with her panties all bloody and her stomach cramping up fit to kill, she’d had to ask Nellie what to do.
It made sneaking around, smoking, and drinking—or just avoiding the house by spending all her spare time in the barn with her horses—easy. Sometimes she thought the only one who’d notice she was missing was Frank, since her Daddy had gotten distracted and preoccupied with the slow erosion of his success and his bank accounts.
Unable to sit still, but unwilling to go home and face anyone, Lindsay snagged Zelda’s reins and started walking alongside the river that had been named for another failed horse farmer. The horse was amenable enough for a while, but kept bumping Lindsay’s shoulder with her nose and making exasperated noises.
“Oh, all right, you big old baby.” Lindsay patted her neck, stuck her foot in the stirrup and jumped into the saddle. No matter what or how she felt about her life, the moment she sat astride a horse, the world seemed to shift into place for her. Smiling, she dug her heels into Zelda’s sides with a soft cluck of her tongue. They were off, galloping full out across the large pasture between the river and the stretch of woods bordering her father’s property.
Hair streaming out behind her, Lindsay laughed out loud in pure pleasure, wishing she could ride forever, never stop, never face reality as the future Missus William Scott.
Never have to wonder how it felt to be held in Anton Love’s arms. Because she knew for a fact that her daddy would let him go. Her mama wouldn’t tolerate any less, and when she was in full-throttle obsessed mode, Gloria Halloran was worse than a dog with a bone. She would chip away at it until she got what she wanted … which was usually for her daughter to be truly miserable.
The late afternoon light lay still and shimmery hot across the expanse of grass between the edge of the woods and the Halloran barns. Lindsay stopped a moment, watching the comings and goings of boarded horses and their persnickety owners making irrational demands on the staff. She heard a familiar neigh. Zelda echoed it, head nodding again, eager to get to her stall for a cleanup and real food.
But Lindsay lingered, wanting—hoping—to catch sight of Anton. She bit her lip, keeping a firm grip on the reins so Zelda would quit stomping and fidgeting.
Lindsay’s own thighs were shaking from the last forty-five minutes of hard riding across pastures and through woods, plus she felt a little dizzy, thanks to a lack of food and residual alcohol from the night before.
When she thought she spotted Anton, her heart did a little trip-hammer thing in her chest. But then she realized the man was too tall and must be Lorenzo.
Finally, she clucked to the horse but held her at a slower pace, forcing Zelda into a canter so she could keep an eye on the figures coming and going in the paddock and between the barns. She slid off and walked Zelda the last few feet, head and heart still pounding with the sort of anticipation that made her feel weak and girly. She headed toward the wash area, self-conscious of the scene Will had caused earlier, and suddenly wishing she could assign this duty to one of the stable boys and run inside to cower.
But everyone seemed busy, so she did Zelda’s washdown herself, then put her in a stall that was already filled with fresh hay and supplied with oats. The animal whinnied. Daisy answered her, as if to say “where the hell have you been?”