Deeper Than Lies

CHAPTER 3 | Caleb-2

Tate drops Wren off at the bed-and-breakfast they’re staying at, and drives me out to Jacks or Better. The farm is maybe thirty minutes outside of town, and for once, I’m grateful for the drive. Between the bourbon and the jet lag, I feel like I’m moving underwater. I need time to think, to plan, but every time I close my eyes I see Ellie shimmying closer, and every time I open them, I remember I’m back home.

Tate runs the windows down, and hot, humid air hurls through the BMW. “Tonight was different.”

I pause. “You aren’t pissed?”

He grunts, and shifts into a lower gear as we take the last bend before the farm’s main drive. “Not as much as Wren. I think Ellie just made a bad decision.”

“Having the chicken instead of the steak is a bad decision. That was...” I have no words to adequately express that level of bullshit so I wave my hand in a circle. Tate seems to get the idea anyway. He shrugs, making a right into Jacks or Better.

“Seriously,” I continue as the smell of fresh cut grass fills the car. “That was a whole new level of crazy. Do you really want to marry into it?”

“Absolutely.”

I twist around in my seat, studying Tate’s face for signs of lying, but no matter how hard I search, I can’t find any. I fling myself back around. He means it. I actually envy that. I’ve never been that sure about a person—even when Mandy and I were doing well, I was never that sure about her, never that sure about anything.

Actually, no, that’s not true. I’m sure I want a future in showjumping. I’ve shaped my whole life around it: all the work for Jacks or Better, another six years working for two farms outside of Dublin. It’s everything I am.

And the deeper we drive into Jacks or Better, the more that realization begins to feel like a death sentence. Coming home wasn’t supposed to be like this. I wasn’t supposed to be this pissy. I wasn’t supposed to fight another employee for the manager job.

I wasn’t supposed to play my father’s games anymore.

What am I doing here? I wonder, scrubbing both hands over my face. “Did you really not know who Wren’s sister was?”

Tate raises his right hand. “Swear to God. I mean, I think Wren mentioned she rode horses, but I pretty much forgot. We got onto other...things.”

Part of me wants to be seriously annoyed, but I can’t really bring myself to be. Tate and I have been best friends since college. A lot of people in the horse industry don’t bother with university, but I wanted a business degree to better understand how to make a farm work. I knew the day to day stuff, but I wanted—needed—more. If I was going to do better than the Colonel, I figured university was the best way to start. Tate was the same way. Like me, he knew what he wanted: fancy job, big house, traveling the world. Unlike me, he isn’t walking into an established business. His parents are teachers. They’d give him the world if they could.

Tate drums his fingers along the steering wheel. “I mean, I know we’ve moved pretty fast, but damn. Didn’t realize I’d missed that. The only stuff I remember is Wren’s real dad and stepmom died in a car accident so she’s all the family Ellie has.”

I wince. She’s all Ellie’s got? And she’s leaving? Ouch. “Does she get along with Wren’s mom?”

“I don’t think they spend a lot of time together. Lynn stays in Paris, and Ellie is supposed to be a workaholic. Wren says she doesn’t get out enough.”

“Look what happens when she does.”

“No shit.” Somewhere in the dark, a horse whinnies, and Tate glances at me. “Anyway, who hasn’t made bad decisions while drinking peach martinis?”

I eye him. “You think this is funny?”

“Yeah, a bit.” He grins, face green from the dashboard lights. “More than a bit. Usually, you would too.”

I sit back against the seat, tapping my fingers against my thigh. “No, I wouldn’t.”

Tate fiddles with the radio, and for a few minutes, there’s nothing but the sound of air rushing through the open windows. “Are you okay?”

“You look different today, Dr. Phil.”

“And you still look like an asshole. I’m not trying to play therapist. You want to talk? Talk.”

Fair enough. I glance out the window. In the dark, the trees are a curtain of shadows rushing by, and as we slow down for the last turn, I can hear the high-pitched whine of crickets. “It’s this place, this town. It was a mistake.”

“You mean coming back?”

“I mean everything. The Colonel calls me, and asks me to come home, and against my better judgment, I agree. I quit my job. I asked Aiden to come on. Then I find out he doesn’t want me to take over the farm, he wants me to interview to take over the farm. That’s bullshit.”

“No doubt. But you knew that before you flew over. Why’d you still come?”

“Because it wasn’t just me anymore. I had Aiden quit his job at the farm to follow me. He’s supposed to ride for Jacks or Better now and he’s depending on this as much as I am—more so. He takes care of his sister’s kids.”

Aiden’s also one of the most talented show jumping riders I’ve ever seen. His feel, his sense of timing, hell his ability to get the most from his horses, blows most riders out of the water. If life were fair, the guy would have sponsors lining up. Since life isn’t, he’s been coming up through the ranks on his own, getting rides and horses as he can. He was living in his car before coming to my farm last year. This was—is—a huge opportunity for him. For both of us.

“That all?” Tate asks.

For two whole seconds, I’m beyond pissed because really does there need to be more? Then I realize what Tate’s getting at. “And I want the damn job.”

“So get it.”

I raise one brow. “At Ellie’s expense? Is that what brother-in-laws are supposed to say?”

Tate frowns. “Probably not, but you’ve wanted this for as long as I’ve known you. You want it? Go get it.”

He pulls to a stop next to the Colonel’s Range Rover, and we both take a long look at the house. The antebellum mansion is dark, but one window burns bright. My father’s still awake. Waiting for me? God, I hope not. I don’t have the energy for one of our arguments.

“Seriously,” Tate adds. “There’s no way she’d be better at this than you would be. Don’t fall for the Colonel’s head games.”

I crack my knuckles. “It’s not just the head games. I’m walking back into that s**t I left behind with Mandy.”

Tate winces. We’ve been friends since college and he knows the story. “You know how I felt about Mandy,” I say. “But to everyone else, I slept with an employee. They think I used her, and it’s still following me. Even Ellie threw it in my face.”

Tate laughs.

“It’s not funny.”

“It’s totally funny.” He turns to me, expression all lawyer-y and composed. “Look, you’re not the first guy to break some rules, and get burned. Was Mandy underage?”

“God, no.”

“Was she willing?”

“Hell, yes.”

“Then what’s the deal?”

I grind my teeth. “It made me look like I can’t keep my hands off the staff. You should’ve heard the Colonel’s freak out—and when Mandy went public with our drama? It burned my professional standing to the ground.”

“So build it back up.”

“By standing on your future sister-in-law?” I really can’t believe he would suggest it. Tate’s a nice guy, an honorable guy, which sounds cheesy as all hell, but it’s a big deal to me. He doesn’t screw people over.

“Yeah, I know,” he says, picking at the leather on his steering wheel. “But Caleb, you’re a good boss. You’re driven, but you don’t ask anyone to do something you wouldn’t. Your guys bend over backward for you. I know you’ll treat her well.”

The compliment makes my skin crawl. Some of that is because I’m no good with niceties. The rest of it is because if—when—I make farm manager, I won’t treat Ellie nicely at all. I don’t need her propensity for drama. I’ll fire her.