Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 143842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 719(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 479(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 719(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 479(@300wpm)
Five new horses had been purchased to be delivered throughout the month to keep up with the demand of the resort, and I planned to ease them in slowly.
Get them accustomed to their surroundings.
Make sure each was comfortable here and came to know this as their home.
“That’s right, you are doing just fine,” I murmured, rubbing that spot between her eyes and gazing at her, letting her know she could trust me.
“She is a beauty, isn’t she?” The voice that came from behind brought a smile to my face, comfort wrapping me like a hug.
I swiveled to find my father on the other side of the metal railing, his arms draped over the top as he watched me interact with the horse.
“Why am I not surprised to see you here?” I almost teased. He might have been a savvy businessman, but he loved his horses. I thought he mourned a little bit each time one of them left his ranch.
“I had a couple beautiful girls I thought I’d better come check up on this morning.”
His gaze was tender as he looked at me, and affection wound through my chest. I caressed down the mare’s neck. “I think we’re both doing pretty great.”
I saw the second his expression dimmed in worry, as if he had a reason not to accept what I said.
“Is that true? You’re really doing fine?” he urged.
My stomach clenched, and my teeth ground in an attempt to prepare myself.
I already knew what was coming.
Still, I played oblivious. “I shouldn’t be?”
“Pruitt’s in town.” His voice sounded of an apology.
Incredulity coursed through my system.
Of course, Pruitt would go to my father.
Play the victim.
He’d blinded my father just as thoroughly as he’d blinded me, though my father hadn’t been around enough to see the veil being peeled back.
He hadn’t been exposed to the shady side, only seeing the pieces that Pruitt presented.
Part of the reason I was afraid to expose Pruitt was I didn’t know what it would do to my father. If my father would somehow be implicated since he was the one Pruitt purchased his horses from.
Plus, my father would just be devastated all around.
Believing in someone that way. Supporting them. Trusting them. Then they turned right around and drove a two-foot blade through your back.
I released some of the dread I’d been carrying since last night.
At least now I knew how Pruitt was playing this.
For the time being, he was going to manipulate and twist and coerce rather than attempt to force.
I found some comfort in that. It bought me time. Time to figure out what I was going to do.
“He came to the house,” I said, voice flat.
“He wants to see Maddie.” There was my father, the peacekeeper.
Disbelief shook my head as I stepped away from the horse, and there was no keeping the spite out of my words that time. “Dad, he doesn’t care a thing about Maddie.”
“How could you say that? He’s been a mess since you left.”
I bet he’d been a mess since he could no longer use me as a cover. My name on those papers. It made me sick.
“I know you think you know him, and I know you only want what’s best for me and Maddie, but trust me when I tell you that Pruitt is not the man you think he is.”
Apprehension creased the edges of my father’s eyes. “I’m not sure I know what you mean by that.”
“It means he isn’t the man for me, and I don’t want anything to do with him, and I sure as hell don’t want him around my daughter.”
“I know sometimes successful men can be difficult, Hailey. Selfish. And I can only imagine he spent a lot of time away from home, and you likely felt ignored and neglected, but—”
“This isn’t a lonely housewife issue, Dad, and I need you to drop it because you don’t understand.”
“He’s your husband, Hailey.”
“He’s not my husband,” I defended.
At least I didn’t consider him that, and I was praying to push through the divorce as quickly as possible.
He kept right on like he wasn’t hearing me. “Times get rough, Hailey. That’s all this is—a rough patch. And it’s time you pick yourself up and fight through your problems the way I taught you to do when you were young. Stand by your commitments.”
Hurt impaled my chest, and a harsh breath heaved from my lungs.
Taking the horse by the reins, I moved to the gate and opened it.
My father still rested right there beside it, concern deepening every line on his face. “I am fighting, Dad. I’m fighting for the life I want,” I told him.
I saw the war go down in his spirit.
He wanted to support me, all while remaining staunch in what he believed to be right for me.
When my mother had died in a car accident when I was young, he’d been crushed.