Breaking Brooklyn

Chapter Ten

Brooklyn

Josephine stomps across the dirt path, kicking up dust. The breeze takes it away, scattering particles across my truck. I stand at the edge of the porch, restraining myself from following. When I'm around her, it feels like that's all I do—restrain myself.

She removes her phone from her jean shorts, and I wonder if she's calling a car to take her home to New York. If she does, I'll have to follow her. We both overstepped our boundaries, but I can't let the girl get hurt. It's not even about my job at the security firm, anymore. I just...

I don't want to fail Josephine.

I don't want to watch her leave.

She drives me fucking insane, but she's grown on me. I enjoy her company. I'd rather argue with her than have a pleasant conversation with anyone else. I like her. There, I said it. I like Josephine.

So, what happens next comes as a relief.

The Appaloosa approaches the wooden fence, notching his head over the top rail. Josephine strides past the animal, tapping rapidly on her screen. The Appaloosa releases a soft snort, startling Jo. She drops her phone, and turns toward the animal. They exchange an inscrutable look. The horse flares his nostrils slightly, blowing air.

My relief turns to horror when Josephine paces toward the fence. She sets her boot on the bottom rung, and swings her leg over the other side. She plops into the paddock, walking through the thick grass. The Appaloosa pivots, keeping her in his sights.

This isn't good. That horse is untrained, unbroken, unpredictable. He spooks easily, and when animals get spooked, they lash out with violence. I hop off the porch, jogging to the small pasture. Josephine stops in the center of the paddock, and takes a seat on the ground. She crosses her legs, braces her elbows on her knees, and rests her chin in her hands. She's facing away from me, but I can see her shoulders shaking.

The Appaloosa meanders toward her. I hesitate, watching his body language. His ears are flickering, which could mean he's nervous, or he's listening for my footfalls. His tail is swishing, but that's to prevent flies from bothering him. His carriage is down, but not snaking. His attitude is calm—almost submissive.

We've had him here for three weeks, and every time Gretchen got in the pen with him, he reared back, showing the whites of his eyes. He nipped her hair more often than not, and even tried to kick. My attempts weren't any better. Luckily, Gretchen is an experienced trainer, and knows how to handle defiant animals.

Josephine does not.

The Appaloosa sniffs the ground cautiously. When I strain my ears, I can hear Jo's faint weeping. Dammit, I shouldn't have let her get on my lap, but the woman knows how to make a man question himself. I shouldn't have pushed for answers about her past, but she makes me frustrated in more ways than one. I just want to help her, but I can't do anything if she's not ready.

Josephine repositions herself, lying flat on her back. She stares up at the sky, the sunlight drying the shiny tears on her cheeks. She pinches a blade of grass between two fingers, skating her touch along the long plant. She had those fingers in my hair. She was humming that song. She was so focused on her task, she didn't even notice my inability to take my eyes off her.

Having my hair washed and styled—having someone pamper me—was a stark reminder of how long it's been since I've been touched. Years. It's been years since I've had a night with a woman. Even so, I felt more connected to Josephine while she was cutting my hair than I ever have during sex. I was baffled, entranced, aroused. So, when she straddled my lap and applied pressure to my erection, I felt vulnerable. It wasn't until she spoke that I realized she was using me as an escape.