The Start of Something Good Read online

  The accident dragged too many hard truths to the surface.

  He was back to face them all.

  In tune to his thought, his knee throbbed, and he shifted his weight to take some of the pressure off. Harper studied his face, her bright eyes assessing his condition in true sisterly style. "How's the leg?" she asked.

  "Better. What'd you need?" he asked, trying to direct her attention back to her original request.

  She gestured to the now-shaggy facial hair that had little structure. "You ever gonna shave that beard?"

  He ran a hand over his chin and shrugged. "Don't know. It's nice not to worry about what I look like."

  "You look scary, dude. Like one of those crazy Duck Dynasty guys."

  He grinned. "They're kind of cool."

  She kept staring. "It's been three weeks, and Ophelia said you rarely come to the main house. You're bunked up back here alone like some crazy hermit."

  "Lots of work to do on the bungalow. Not in the mood for chatting with strangers. You avoid it all the time."

  She gave a suffering sigh. "I make my appearances when I have to. Play the good hostess. But that's Ophelia's territory. Plus, I go into town and talk to actual people other than Wheezy and Hei Hei."

  The Lab heard his name, picking up his head to give Harper a drooly, happy grin, then dropping his chin back onto the floor and snorting.

  "Wheezy's great company. I missed him. That chicken is another story."

  On cue, they both looked out the window at the black Polish chicken with a bunch of crazy feathers sticking out of his head. He clucked and clawed at the ground and seemed to have the run of the place.

  "He was another rescue. When I found him this winter, his poor feathers were almost frozen because they never let him inside. He's blossomed since he's been here."

  "And did you have to name him after another Disney movie?" He groaned. "I feel like I'm living at Disney World."

  "Nothing wrong with Disney. Mom always taught us all problems can be solved or figured out by watching those movies. Stop trying to change the subject."

  "What subject?" he asked innocently.

  "We're worried, okay?"

  He stiffened, hating the concern in her eyes and knowing why it was there. His voice softened. "I'm doing fine, Harp. Seriously. Just need some alone time to process shit."

  "It wasn't your fault."

  He jerked. His gut clenched. "Yep."

  Frustration shot off her figure. "Forget it--I know you don't want to talk. But you'll have to get over your solitary status for a little bit and help me out. I just found out I inherited a young girl who got mandated community service. She's here for the summer to work."

  "Thought they assigned kids to clean up parks or pick up garbage on the highways?"

  "Punishment has evolved. She's a college student who got in trouble. Guess who heard her case?"

  "Who?"

  "Judge Bennett."

  He winced, shaking his head. "He's still on the bench? He's older than Wheezy."

  "I know. He's still serving and living in that big old empty house in town, raining terror on college students. He's big on making an example of bad behavior."

  "Why us?"

  Harp lifted a brow. "Mom, of course. He used to send the troubled kids over to the horse farm to work off their community service. Mom got volunteers, and he got the joy of justice. Of course, I told him after Mom passed we didn't need any extra volunteers, but he still throws us one occasionally. Guess he decided we'd be the lucky recipients of her horse expertise."

  "Oh, she knows about horses?"

  Harper shot him a glare. "No. That's my problem. This can be a nightmare, Ethan. Imagine a hormonal-ridden, snarky teen who knows nothing about running a horse-rescue farm or a bed-and-breakfast. I'm slammed and working overtime. I can't deal with teaching her crap. You have to do it."

  He stared at her. "You're kidding."

  "No. You're in charge of her. Show her the ropes. Teach her how to take care of the horses--I don't care. Give her jobs that will help, but keep her out of my hair."

  "Fuck no. Give her to Ophelia. She'd love getting an assistant at the inn."

  "Already talked to her. She runs a tight ship and just hired an extra cleaner she can't lay off. Said she'll throw her an occasional odd job, but she doesn't want her underfoot."

  Ethan muttered a curse. "Why can't we reassign her somewhere she's actually needed?"

  "Judge Bennett wanted her to have a place to stay since the dorms shut down for the summer. I guess her parents won't allow her to have a place of her own and intend to keep her at the inn under a watchful eye. She must be a troublemaker. Another reason you need to be in charge. She'll listen to you. You won't put up with any bullshit."

  "Neither would you! Harp, I don't think this is possible. I still have to finish up the bungalow, and then I have other stuff to do."

  She placed her hands on her hips. "Like what? Yes, you've helped me at the stables, but you still refuse to train the new horses or come with me to the auction. You avoid the inn. You rarely go into town and haven't left this place since you arrived. Am I missing something?"

  Ah, shit. He should've known Harper wouldn't leave him alone, and now he'd be stuck with a spoiled kid who didn't even want to be here. "What if I find her another place? Maybe I can ask around."

  "I couldn't care less. Why don't you appeal to Judge Bennett? He's down at Bea's Diner every morning for breakfast."

  "Fine. I'll talk to him and see what we can work out."

  "Great. In the meantime, I'll tell her she reports to you. They'll be here this afternoon."

  Harper turned and headed toward the door.

  "Wait--today? Who else is with her?" he demanded.

  "I think her aunt since the last name is different. Mia. Girl is Chloe. They'll be checking in, but you should at least introduce yourself. John could use another hand down at the stables, too."

  "You're just full of happy advice, aren't you?"

  She shot him a false, cheeky grin. "That's me. I just shit out happiness and rainbows."

  Then she was gone.

  He smothered a groan, too aggravated to give in to her sense of humor. He walked into the small area he'd made into a half-functional kitchen and refilled his coffee mug, tempted to spike it with his favorite Irish whiskey. But that would be too easy. He'd learned to take his medicine without the spoonful of sugar, and he wasn't about to go back now. Sipping the hot brew from a chipped red mug that screamed I'M HORSING AROUND!, he brooded about this latest mess on his hands. He'd come home for some damn peace and quiet--not to babysit. Hell, that was the reason he avoided the auction and training the new horses.

  He couldn't help anyone right now, human or animal. Best to avoid it all.

  Tomorrow, he'd head to the diner and convince the judge to get the girl reassigned. Then he could get back to a peaceful, quiet existence for the rest of the summer while he figured out his future.

  He slugged down the rest of the coffee and put the mug in the sink. "Come on, Wheezy, let's take a stroll."

  The Lab's bones creaked as he got up, but his tail did a mad dance of glee as he followed him down the back path. Hei Hei regarded both of them with fowl-like arrogance, then dismissed them with a shake of feathers. The thick woods muffled sounds and sun, wrapping him in a temporary peace he didn't take for granted. He needed no markers to follow the dirt trail that sloped downward, twisted around various-size rocks, and suddenly ended at a tangle of brush.

  Wheezy howled in excitement, knowing what came next, and bounded around the scary thorn bushes, following the secret trail hidden in plain sight.

  Ethan followed the Lab's lead and stepped out of the woods.

  And gazed upon what he imagined heaven looked like.

  The stables lay ahead of him in organized chaos. Endless acres of open green hills rolled ahead of him, dotted with white fences, the colors of various horses and hay piles like map markings. His gaze tracked the stretch
of land that morphed into over fifty acres of trails and woods, then reached farther to finally stop in glory at the mighty thrust of the Shawangunk Mountains--commonly termed the Gunks--highlighted under an azure sky.

  Ethan stared at the earthly colors and textures revealed in perfect glory. Shivers of memory raced down his spine, bringing him back to the years spent in this exact place, perched on his favorite rock, pondering his life. This was where his dreams and plans were laid out. Where hurts and heartbreaks were healed. Where the joy of childhood freedom and endless possibilities lay within the reach of trees and rock and mountain, with no one to judge him other than the horses and birds and creatures great and small.

  For a few precious seconds, the ragged hole in his soul took a breath and sighed.

  He moved forward, ready to greet what was ahead.

  The sudden scream of bullets shot through the air, shattering the idyllic view, tearing away the peace. He staggered and went down fast, hands over his head, heart thundering like a pack of Thoroughbreds. Dirt and rocks scraped against his chest, and his breath strangled in his lungs.

  "Don't let me die."

  "I won't. I swear to God I won't let you die."

  His vision blurred. He fought hard for consciousness. For sanity. For--

  The low whimper and touch of fur and wetness pressed against the side of his head. Still trying to gulp precious air to stay alive, it took him a while to register the wild lap of a tongue covering every part of his body. His sight cleared, and he slowly raised his head.

  Wheezy met his gaze with delight, his brown eyes full of greeting and joy. He panted, covering his face with doggy kisses, and Ethan unfolded himself from the ground. The same sound ricocheted through the air, but this time, he recognized it as a nail gun, spotting a guy in the distance fixing up a fallen piece of wood from the barn.

  Fuck.

  He'd hoped his freak-outs were behind him, but it seemed they still lay in wait for the right time to jump out. Just like the monsters under the bed that had kept him up at night, courtesy of his love of Stephen King. He was unsuitable for the outside world. Better to keep his shit to himself and deal with it.

  At least horses didn't care how broken he was on the inside. At least he could make himself useful for a little while.

  He stood up and brushed the dirt from his clothes. Ignoring the throb in his knee from his ground hit, Ethan walked into the stables.

  Chapter Four

  Mia drove past rolling green hills and fields dotted with knotted apple trees, ice-cream stands, and white picket fences holding herds of cows. The scent of fertilizer and earth drifted through the vents, even though her windows were tightly closed and the air conditioner set at a comfortable sixty-eight degrees. The sky was a beautiful pale blue, stuffed with round, puffy clouds. At one point, she'd caught a rainbow spilling from earth's ceiling to cast myriad bright colors in a perfect arch stretched in the distance, urging her forward into a land of happiness.

  It was official.

  She'd arrived in hell.

  Muttering under her breath, she consulted her Waze app briefly before making the turn on Route 32. She was officially en route to meet a teenage girl who probably already resented her. Seemed Chloe's final act of rebellion was refusing to let Mia pick her up. Her friends were dropping her off at three p.m. to start her servitude, and Mia wanted to arrive early to get settled.

  A touch of depression pressed down on her. She turned Adam Levine up higher on the radio, but even his delicious voice wasn't helping. Maybe she'd eat the last half of her KIND bar? Her stomach growled on cue, but after calculating the calories, especially with her dinner unknown, it'd be best to keep it for emergencies.

  What would she do if the town had no vegan or vegetarian options? Or gluten free?

  What would happen if the B & B only served carbohydrates like gravy and biscuits and grits?

  But maybe that was the South. At this point, it didn't matter. If it wasn't the city, everything else was subpar and dangerous. She refused to be a size fatter at the end of summer because she was stuck in a town overrun by potatoes and cheese.

  Or was that Wisconsin?

  Ah, hell, it didn't matter. She better be close, though. She'd been driving for almost three hours in a crappy rented Kia, and she needed to stretch. She glanced at her Waze app again, hoping to see that blinking red dot announcing her arrival, when the screen suddenly went blank.

  No signal.

  Smothering a curse, she glared at the mountains blocking her signal and punched some buttons, trying to get it back up. After a few minutes, she realized she was left both directionless and without Levine's voice to soothe her nerves. Even the rental-car company was cursing her today. They'd given away her gorgeous convertible in a mishap and stuck her with a Kia with no GPS.

  Okay, people did this all the time before the internet. Not that she could read a map. The last time she'd glanced at Waze, she had noted the place was off a funny-sounding road. Of course, if they'd done any type of decent marketing, there would've been signs long ago leading her right to it.

  Guess they didn't believe in advertising.

  After more driving through uniform country roads and passing the same damn hills and cows, she spotted a crooked sign that read GOOSEY DRIVE.

  That sounds right! Yes, that was the funny-sounding name. She was on the right path.

  Puffing up with pride over her memory skills, she followed the road, noticing a single unpaved lane winding toward the left. It was heavily wooded but definitely a road. As she got closer, she saw a tiny sign that said INN HORSE TRAIL.

  Yes. The inn is part of a rescue farm, so this must be it.

  The Kia bumped along potholes, mud, and scattered brush blocking the lane. Her temper grew as she drove. How was a guest able to find this place? Why on earth wasn't it paved and well marked? Had she been dropped into one of those horrid Wrong Turn movies to find herself being chased by deformed country bumpkins?

  Finally, the car jerked to a halt at the end of the path. She stared openmouthed at the tiny bungalow in front of her.

  Holy shit.

  This was the place she was staying at?

  Horror unfolded. It wasn't even Victorian. It had no sprawling front porch that served tea and cookies. It was just a mud-brown house with standard-issue windows, a basic concrete stoop, and a plain-beige door. No cheery potted geraniums or herbal gardens or quirky antiques like she'd imagined a B & B to have. Instead, there was a bunch of chickens roaming around, squawking and pecking at the unpaved ground. No real parking lot. Just a battered black truck parked in front. Was she the only guest?

  And if so, now she knew why.

  She was going to have a panic attack.

  Clutching the door handle in a merciless grip, she dragged in deep breaths and tried to calm herself. Maybe the inside was amazing. Maybe it was a lesson so she'd learn the motto "Don't be fooled by the surface, because great things lie beneath." Or in this case, inside.

  She gritted her teeth and got out of the car, giving the chickens a wary glance. Her Prada shoes were open toed. Could chickens draw blood if they pecked at her toes? She stilled, watching them carefully, but they didn't seem interested in a stranger, so she began to walk toward the house. Her heels sank into the mud, aggravating her even more. Why wasn't anyone here to take her luggage or greet her?

  Worst. B & B. Ever.

  "Hello?" she called out. "Anyone around?"

  The answer was not what she expected.

  From behind the dirty, red coop thing, a massive chicken monster appeared in response to her call. She froze, mouth opening in horror, staring at the thing that seemed like a scary crossover of animal-genetic madness.

  He had a giant head covered in crazy white feathers, sticking out from every angle like in one of those memes on her Facebook newsfeed. Beady eyes focused on her with sheer fowl suspicion. Fat, red jowls hung down beside his massive beak. His body was a mottled, inky black that ended with tremendous clawed f
eet.

  "Umm, nice chicken?"

  A pissed-off sound emitted from the creature's beak, and he began lurching forward in a drunken walk of doom. She backed up, hands out, terrified she would die of a chicken attack in the backwoods, where no one would find her.

  "Stay away from me!" she warned. "I mean it. I'll make you the main course of my Thanksgiving, you freak!"

  The thing clucked harder, beginning to flap his wings in crazed motions, his long, curly clawed toes moving faster toward her, beak open, ready for the kill.

  She screamed.

  "Hei Hei!" The masculine voice snapped through the air in command. The chicken monster stopped midcharge, cranking its feathery head toward the house. "Leave her alone."

  The chicken let out a murderous shriek.

  "Wanna be left out this winter so your feathers freeze? I mean it, Hei Hei, I won't save you like Harper. Go back and finish your lunch."

  Feathers shook. With one last glance at her that promised retribution, the chicken monster disappeared back behind the house. The man who saved her propped his hands on his hips and didn't budge. "Sorry, he's a bit temperamental. Can I help you?"

  The long howl of a dog made her jump back. What now? Was this place a zoo? A black Lab came racing out with one intention: to take her down. She squared her shoulders, stood her ground, and prayed he or she was friendly.

  He or she was. The dog bounded around her without jumping up, seeming thrilled to have some company. She reached down and pet the dog. At least one animal made sense out here. She'd always loved dogs. Not cats. Not chickens. Not horses or squirrels or chipmunks or snakes. Just dogs.

  The man whistled. "Wheezy, come here. She's had enough of the animal-crew welcome." The dog obeyed, trotting back to his or her master and settling down near his feet. "Let's try this again. Can I help you?"

  Her words seemed to drift away. She stared at him in total fascination, her mind short circuiting the endless possibilities of this man.

  She'd just met a semihot Grizzly Adams.

  The man was tall. Super tall--at least six four. Feet braced apart, hands on hips, he towered with an impressive presence, clad in worn, tight jeans and a basic black T-shirt that stretched over his muscular build. Russet-colored hair curled wildly over his brow and brushed the nape of his neck. A striking beard hugged his jaw and was longer than the usual goatee, bordering on wild. His features were an odd slashing of crude bone structure that kept him from ever looking pretty or soft. But his eyes. She'd never seen anything like them.