Impulsion, Page 3

  Camille was in her early fifties, still a beautiful woman, but you could clearly see that the sun, the outdoors had been a constant companion to her. Wyatt had her hair color, that shade that the sun would highlight, that fair skin that was hidden under the bronze kiss of the sun. Lines that were mixes of smiles and scowls defined Camille’s visage. She was fit, long, lean muscles in her arms and legs. She rode every day, never really sat still.

  In the ring, she was as fierce as she taught. Her criticism was heavy, but that only made her praise all the sweeter. She never complimented you on what you should already know or be doing, but always made sure you knew when you stepped out of your limitations.

  Harley was used to hard-core women, but Camille was different from the others, different from her mother, in the way that she seemed to understand that in life the only one you truly compete against is yourself. That was one of the first things she taught Harley, and that lesson helped Harley when she went home. It kept her from being drenched in the stress of fitting into the socialite life her mother kept forcing on her. Instead of looking at the other girls, or even her mother, Harley focused on what she could do to improve her own life. She would walk the way she was told, speak the way she was told, but she saw all of that as a lesson, a role, one where she could find a way to measure how much better she could improve one performance over the last.

  “It’s going to rain tonight. We should move his day off to tomorrow.”

  None of the horses were worked every day; they, too, needed days off, days just to be turned out and do what horses do. On Danny Boy’s days off, Harley would ride one of the other horses. She had a few that were her favorite, some were easier than Danny boy, others pushed her, which made riding Danny Boy all that much easier the next time she mounted.

  If by random chance, at least every other week, there was no one for her to ride, Harley spent the morning with Wyatt in the south barn, working with the rescue horses. There was a mare she was in love with at that barn and was eager to spend time with. That mare was the first she had seen born. Her mother had no milk, so Harley and the others were the ones that nursed her. Knowing she would be mountless tomorrow and be able to spend time with that mare and Wyatt, she nodded to agree, then closed her book to give Camille her full attention.

  “Do you not know how to swim, Harley?” Camille asked, not looking away from Danny Boy.

  That statement confused Harley. At her school, everyone had to have two sports. Riding was one of hers, swimming was the other; it was the only sport she assumed would not hurt her and take away her chance to ride. She was sure Camille knew that, too.

  “It’s not as fun as riding,” Harley answered, wondering if this were some parable or analogy. Right then, she was questioning if her lesson this morning didn’t go as well as it should have. Her first summer here, after every harsh lesson Camille made it a point to link the simplest things back to the rhythm and grace a rider needed.

  “So you just dislike swimming in creeks?”

  Harley flushed. The Dorans were far from poor, even though they jokingly called themselves horse poor all the time, meaning all of their money was in this facility, the equipment, the horses, what they needed to provide for them. Yet, every once in a while a comment would come Harley’s way that made her feel like the rich brat her mother claimed she was.

  “I don’t know that the opportunity has ever surfaced,” Harley said as cautiously as she could.

  “It didn’t arrive today, or every other day that Ava nags the hell out of me to take a break from the heat?”

  Ava had asked Harley over and over that first summer to go swimming. At first, Harley didn’t go because she had a crush on Wyatt, was too scared to. Then, when what they were did happen, she didn’t go because she, as well as he, didn’t want anyone to pick up on the fact that they were falling hard for each other.

  “Mrs. Doran.”

  “Camille.”

  “Camille,” Harley corrected. “I, I know what my mom said about me being here. I don’t want to put you or anyone in a difficult position.”

  Camille smirked; she wasn’t the type of person to hide the way she felt about anyone or anything. Everyone knew that Camille Doran and Claire Tatum strongly disliked each other, even though over the years Claire Tatum had sent numerous clients to Camille. Harley’s mother wasn’t being nice by doing that, not at all. The fact was, in order to save face in front of all of her friends, Claire acted as if it were her grand idea that Harley train with the Dorans, and because Claire endorsed it, several followed her lead.

  Those clients didn’t board here like Harley did; in fact, Harley learned after she came to this farm that it was her father’s request that she stay here. Of course, he came up with that proposal when Camille told him that Harley would have to train daily even to come close to riding Danny Boy to the caliber he needed.

  Camille had said that to blow off the rich banker from New York and was floored when he asked her to board his daughter as well - and she was not shy about asking why he wanted her to do that. His response: he wanted his daughter to have the childhood, at least in part, that he’d had.

  Camille adored Harley’s father, enjoyed hosting him when he came in once a month and stayed a week to watch Harley’s progression. “There is a real man under that suit,” that’s what she had told Harley.

  Harley knew that if she and Wyatt were ever caught, all hell would break loose. She would lose him, her trainer, and more than likely all the revenue that Claire Tatum’s friends brought would be lost as well. But she could not say that to Camille.

  “Do you ever see your mother?” Camille asked. It was odd to her that any parent was okay with their daughter basically being raised by another family, and in a way she felt like she was raising Harley; she was in her care for almost half of every year.

  “My school is not that far from home. I spend the weekends there.”

  “It’s not far, but you still board there?”

  “It’s far enough. With school and sports, the days are long. I get more rest by staying there.” That was the truth; the part she didn’t say was that it also saved her from having to deal with her mother. Harley’s father traveled a lot during the week, sometimes the weekends, too, but usually he took Harley with him when that happened.

  Camille knew all of this, Harley was sure of it; what she was not sure of was where this conversation was going or what the purpose was.

  “Do you ever rest, though? Do you ever have fun?”

  Harley nodded to Danny Boy. “This is fun.” She raised her book. “This is fun.”

  “I agree on both accounts, Harley. But you have to learn to relax.”

  Yep. She must have had a bad lesson this morning. Harley could remember her yelling something like that at her.

  “You’re seventeen. You worked hard this morning. All of the kids are down at the creek, and you’re here alone. I need to know if they have said something to keep you out or if you would rather not be with them, or what.”

  Harley was shell-shocked, and her expression said as much. “I just didn’t want to put anyone in an awkward position,” she explained again.

  “So they did say something to you?”

  “No, not at all. I love Ava, Kate, all of those girls. Wyatt and Truman, Easton, they’re all nice. Like I said…I just…I just thought distance was best for everyone.”

  “What’s best for you, Harley?”

  That really shocked her. That was the kind of question her father would ask her, and the tone she used implied that she knew the answer already. Harley felt her stomach flip. There she was, staring at the boy she loved’s mother and daring to believe that no matter how careful she and Wyatt had been, they had been discovered. She was too scared to lie, too petrified to tell the truth.

  “Harley, you come from a world where everyone is watching, where worrying about what others think is a first priority. I don’t want that business on my farm. We run our own race here. You’re too tense, t
oo on guard. Danny Boy feels that; we all do. If you don’t want to go to the creeks or four-wheeling with the others, that’s fine. Take the Jeep into town, find something fun to do.”

  “This is my fun,” she said with a glance to Danny Boy. “At school, I count the minutes until I get to him. During the summer, I don’t want to waste a second.”

  Camille took Danny Boy’s lead. “You have the next twenty years with Danny Boy, maybe longer. You only have one summer to be seventeen. The keys are in the Jeep. Go to the creek, go to town, come back relaxed, and if you do, I will have the boys set a new course in the indoor, one that a relaxed, elegant rider could accomplish.”

  Harley stood still as a statue, watching Camille lead her horse in the barn. Camille looked over her shoulder. “Go on, now; don’t make me say it twice. I’m keeping you safe, girl. Tense riders hit the dirt every time.”

  Even if she went to town just to keep up the same façade, she was sure she would get lost on her way there - not to mention that part of her was wondering if by being so careful, she and Wyatt had become obvious.

  She went back to the main house, found her swimsuit that was still in her travel bags, pushed out of her short riding boots, and dressed to go to the creek.

  Taking the Jeep was her only option; the creek was almost two miles away, outlining the far end of the property. She knew the way only because she and Wyatt had snuck out there more than once. They even had blankets tucked away, wrapped in plastic, stuffed in the base of a tree. They would lay them out on the bank and count the stars with their fingers laced together. That bank was not only where they had their first kiss, but when they dared to master first and second base; just driving in that direction was making her heart race, her skin flush.

  When she pulled up, she saw Wyatt on one four-wheeler, Easton on another, and Memphis was sitting on the front rack of Easton’s. They all had their shirts off and were leaning forward, watching the others swim. There was a long rope that was used to swing into the creek; that was where Truman was.

  All the Doran kids were a year apart, if that. Wyatt was seventeen, Truman sixteen, and Ava fifteen. Truman looked more like his dad; he was huskier, had his dark hair, and his big mouth. Ava was a mix of both her parents but was at that awkward stage where she thought she was already grown, and when she acted that out, it was near humorous. Right then, she was begging Easton to come into the creek, even pulling her shoulders back and dipping her chin.

  “Not while I’m alive,” Wyatt belted out, earning a laugh from Easton. A “Yeah, never mess with your boy’s sister” comment came from Memphis.

  Memphis may have had the lightest personality in the group, but he had the darkest features. In the summer, his skin was near bronze, his dark hair only vaguely lightened up. No light could touch his eyes, which were as deep as midnight.

  Ava blushed and moved deeper into the water.

  “I think you broke her heart,” Harley said from just behind them. Both Easton and Wyatt turned to see Harley in nothing but a bikini top and jean shorts.

  “I think mine just exploded,” Wyatt said with a slow smile.

  Easton shook his head and faced forward, giving Memphis a wry glance that clearly stated their boy was done for. “If you think I’m running some kind of distraction with your sister, you’ve lost it.”

  “I’d have to kill you if you did that, Casanova,” Wyatt said, moving off his four-wheeler. “You came,” he said to Harley.

  “Your mom kinda made me,” Harley admitted.

  Easton and Memphis both looked in their direction at once, just as Wyatt’s eyes went a little wide. Easton and Memphis were well aware of the risk going on with their boy.

  “What did she say?” Wyatt asked, with only a hint of concern in his voice. In most cases, he could charm his way out of trouble with his mom; if that failed, his daddy would back him up.

  “That I needed to relax. I could get hurt if I don’t.”

  Easton nodded once and turned back around, sure that there was no threat anywhere, and started a conversation with Memphis about the work they were planning to do to Easton’s truck.

  Right then, Ava, Kate, and the girls with them had spotted Harley and started to yell her name.

  Harley started to push out of her shoes.

  “Keep those on. Too many rocks,” Wyatt warned. “You want to go in?”

  Her smile said she did.

  In an elevated voice, he said, “If you’re going to swim in this creek, there is only one way in.” All the girls and Truman started to yell, “Jump! Jump,” in unison.

  Wyatt took her hand and led her up the hill of the bank.

  “You’re being obvious,” she said with a hint of a smile as his hand tightened around hers.

  “Ava and them are too busy giving Easton flirty looks, and Kate is too busy smiling at Memphis.”

  “Knowing none of the brothers around will stand for it,” Harley shot back.

  “Right, so we just have a good time and don’t worry about what looks like what.”

  They had reached the top of the hill. He pulled the rope to her. “You hold the rope, I’ll hold on to you. When I say let go, let go,” he said as he reached for the part of the rope above her head and braced his foot on one of the knots at the bottom.

  Sounded easy enough to Harley. She wrapped her legs around the rope and felt her heart race when she sensed Wyatt’s bare chest against her back.

  A second later, he swung them out. When he yelled, “Let go,” she didn’t and they landed right back on the bank, with Harley and everyone below laughing.

  “You gotta let go, baby. You’re safe,” he said as his hand slid around her stomach. She did feel safe in the cage of his arms, no doubt.

  “One more time,” Wyatt said.

  It took three times - and her getting over her endless laughter - before she finally let go and fell through the air in his arms.

  He never let go. Even under the water, he took his time bringing them to the surface, letting his hands ease across her body. When they both emerged, they heard the cheers from the others.

  Harley climbed that hill with Wyatt ten times over, and each time he would pull her behind the massive oak tree and steal a kiss before pulling their bodies together, then swinging them into the water.

  After that, they watched the others. The dark creek water hid their hands, which were either laced together or daring to brush across each other. Something about having to be careful, having to hide their affection, made every touch even more sensual, even more heart racing.

  “I think this is the best day of my life,” Wyatt said to her as he slid past her in the water. She smiled over her shoulder at him, noticing that somehow before her eyes the boy she had met long ago was becoming a man.

  “I was sure I wasn’t going to see you tonight. The girls had pretty much talked Memphis and Easton into a bonfire,” he said with a nod to Easton, who had not left his four-wheeler.

  That meant that everyone would be up late, out late, and the chances of either of them stealing a moment alone would be near nil.

  “She scared me at first,” Harley admitted, thinking about the reason they had this afternoon together in the first place. “I thought she knew and was looking for a confession.”

  Wyatt shook his head. He knew his mother would have come to him first. The family finances were no secret to anyone in this family, especially not Wyatt. He was the oldest of the next generation, and he, his brother, and cousins were all being groomed to take over the business one day. Wyatt knew exactly how much money Claire Tatum had brought to the facility, what any upset would cost them all. Even knowing that could not keep him away from Harley. He loved her. He would gladly give up any family name or legacy for only the promise of having her for the rest of his life.

  He knew, though, that it wasn’t his family that would stand between them; it was hers.

  Harley had said as much. Wyatt knew when she was at home that her mother put Harley side by side with boys
that were set to inherit and accomplish far more than had been dreamed for Wyatt.

  It burned him. When he was away from her, his mind was punishing him; he would see those boys dancing with her, see her parents smiling at them, the power they seemed to have, what they could give Harley that he couldn’t.

  Harley swore to him that he was her only, that she had not so much as kissed another. He never asked for that declaration; she had read the question in his eyes, just like she read every part of him. He offered her the same promise. It wasn’t a hard one to keep. Not only was Harley the only one he could ever see, his best friends weren’t much of daters either.

  Memphis wasn’t ever really in town enough to date anyone. Easton was fine with picking up a girl here or there, but he was too unsharpened to hold on to one. If he didn’t feel the flowery words girls wanted boys to say, he wouldn’t say them. They would get ticked at Easton and bail.

  Which usually landed Easton and Wyatt at the farm, riding, working on cars, stealing a few beers from Wyatt’s daddy’s fridge. No one ever questioned why Wyatt didn’t date anyone. They assumed Wyatt and Easton both just had flings, were too much of men’s men to worry about such things.

  Neither Wyatt nor Harley had a plan for how they could break out of the mold they were in, at least not one that Wyatt spoke about. When he was around Harley’s dad, he did his best to charm him, to show him he was a good man. He hoped that once Harley passed eighteen, maybe even passed college, he could ask her to marry him. It would cause an uproar in her life; he knew that. But he hoped by then it wouldn’t matter, that Harley would grow out of this fear she had of her mother.

  Wyatt would hint to this secret plan, whisper it as they stared at the stars. Harley would only smile. Not enough to tell him that dream would come to pass.

  “Do you think we’re being obvious by taking so many precautions?” she asked.

  Wyatt slid behind her in the water. One hand landed on her hip, the other lower on her thigh, and that hand eased forward as he spoke. “Do I think we need to spend more time together? Yes.”