BAD BOY BRODY

Chapter Five

Morgan

The horses wanted to run tonight.

So did I.

There were people at the house, people I didn’t know, people who didn’t know me. But they were there, and my stepsiblings were wining and dining them. I heard the laughter, saw all the cars. The lights were on in the house, and people were spilling out onto the patio with blankets pulled around them. It was a large party, too large.

A car pulled up as I was there, and I watched a couple get out. The woman was dressed in one of the most beautiful dresses I had ever seen, and as they ran inside the house, it billowed out round her. The guy had on a suit, one of those that Matthew always dressed in. I knew Finley had to wear them, too, but they signified a different world.

Not my world.

Matthew, Finley, and Abby brought their world there.

It was crashing over mine, and the horses could feel it. We didn’t like having these newcomers at home. I knew they would leave, but I couldn’t relay that to the herd.

They were scared and pissed, and they had to run.

I heard them starting when I was at the barn and took off. If they were going, I wanted to go with them. And like another time, so long ago, I ran and jumped onto Shiloh’s back. After that, she kicked her hooves harder into the ground so we could catch up to the herd because they weren’t waiting.

The stallion was leading us away from these interlopers. We were going to the next mountain, but instead of going down into the valley and following the river that wound its way around our mountain, he was impatient. The stallion had us go right, and I braced myself. I knew what we would be crossing.

Then, spying headlights as a car wound its way around the mountain, I could only hope they would be past where we would cross the road. The stallion wasn’t stopping. Car or not, we were going.

The herd soared over the road.

The stallion broke through the trees first, rearing his strong head up, but the mares were right after him. They were hot on the others’ heels and sometimes a group of six horses would cross at the same time. Shiloh and I were near the end, but the car had stopped. They were waiting. I was holding onto Shiloh so my entire body was flat, and I would normally just bury my head into her mane. But this time, I didn’t.

I looked over. I didn’t sit up. I didn’t lift my head. I just merely turned. Even with her mane half-blinding me, I was still able to see them.

A driver’s eyes were bulging, his hands gripping the steering wheel, and his mouth was hanging open. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. My eyes trailed past him to the couple in the backseat. The woman was down, hunched over, and a guy was almost hugging her, but his attention was toward the road in front.

Piercing eyes were staring straight at me, and his dark hair looked as if he’d raked his hands through it a few times. The moment was brief, but he was seared into my memory. Everything about him was dark, brooding, dangerous. He wasn’t gaping at me like the driver. His eyes were alert, clear, and intelligent.

Then we were gone, disappearing back into the trees, but I felt him. I felt as if he was inside me somehow, and as Shiloh carried me deeper into the woods and I was blanketed by the other mares, I couldn’t help myself. I looked back, and he had moved so he was watching me from the back window.

I felt like I knew him, and I didn’t like that feeling.

Shiloh’s head jerked back. Her nostrils flared. Her body tightened under me. She felt my fear, and she didn’t know how to handle it.

I buried my head back into her mane and stroked a hand down her neck. For the first time, I wasn’t sure who I was soothing.