The Art of Husbandry (Mackenzie Country, #1)

by Jay Hogan

I stopped abruptly as a ruggedly handsome dark-haired beauty with a mass of lazy brown waves bouncing around his ears emerged from the Hilux. And since I was a hot mess but not dead, I drew in a sharp breath and whispered, “Wow.”

Second by second, Holden was forcing my body to remember, forcing it to break that dusty seal of grief. To bring me back to life without even trying, without even knowing what he was doing, and in a woolshed for fuck’s sake. I was coming alive in a smelly, dusty, cobweb-strewn woolshed. I was feeling something more than grief and anger for the first time in forever.

“And also—” He leaned in again, stopping just a breath away. “—that was the saddest first kiss of my entire life.” He brushed his nose against mine. “Like hello and goodbye all wrapped up in one.”

“I understood that grief and attraction and like and love don’t compete in some kind of linear race where only one can be in the lead at any one time. It’s more like a washing machine—everything present at the same time in a tangled, messy jumble. Sometimes one thing is on top, sometimes another. But paying attention to one doesn’t mean all the other stuff disappears.”

“That it opened my eyes. And that it was the first time I’d felt anything in a long time. I thought it was just the fact of kissing someone, anyone. Of having that kind of intimacy after so long. I thought it was about loneliness and feeling lost and maybe even distraction, or I wanted to put it down to that.” The intensity of his gaze hit me in the chest. “And I’m sure that was part of it, but it was also . . . mostly . . . about you, Holden. Just . . . you. And it’s taken me a bit of time to come to terms with the unexpected shock of that.”

His coffee eyes drilled into mine, stirring something almost forgotten in my heart. Something that felt a lot like hope and possibility.

Because I live my whole life like that. Because I’m so fucking terrified of this feeling, of you, of us, that I can taste my own failure as if we’re already breaking up.

Are you happy, Daddy?

“That’s not what we’re doing and you know it. We’re giving things a test run to see if we want to fork out on the complications of an actual purchase.”

Was it a bad decision? Maybe. But at least it was a decision. I was done with standing still. Standing still was going to bury me, slowly, one grey day at a time. And I was done being scared to live again.

I loved him in my house, in my space, in my life. I loved it all. Loved? Fuck me. I was also in desperate denial.

“You know, I’d forgotten what this feels like,” I shouted into the storm. “What?” he yelled back over his shoulder. “Happiness,” I answered, my tears mingling with the rain to be washed off my face.

It lasted less than a minute but felt like hours—the force of the rain, the rare bubble of joy in my chest, the musical ring of Holden’s laughter, his arse grinding back on my dick, his raw passion for his land, his home, his people . . . me. The high country works its own kind of miracles. Something ignited in my chest, something that felt a lot like hope. Endings and beginnings. The tail of one into the head of another.

Instead, I kissed Gil’s head and anywhere else I could reach, murmuring reassuring nothings against his damp skin, telling him I’d be there, that I wouldn’t leave him alone. That I cared. That he meant the world to me. And in time the shaking stopped, his breathing evened, and he fell heavily into my arms. And as he slept with his eyelashes laced over his cheek, his heart beating strong against my chest, and his arm still tight around my waist, I whispered, “I love you.”

“Do you know how long I’ve waited to hear something more than a flat nothing in your voice? I’ve been so fucking worried. And just to hear you say this guy makes you laugh . . . God, Gil, I think I can breathe again.”

“Holden,” I tried again but he was on a roll, and the desperate longing in his face broke over my heart in a wave of emotion. “—but I’m also not going to pretend that I don’t feel what I do—head-rushing, parachute-gone, ground-coming-up-fast-with-no-safety-net in love with you. It kind of hit me like a truck watching you put that bastard in his place this afternoon. You’re it for me, Gil. Story done.

“I’ve never felt this before and it scares the shit out of me as well, but not as much as not telling you does. I’d rather tell you and lose you than have you leave without knowing the place you’ve carved out in my heart.”

I’m talking about letting someone else have your back. Trusting your secrets and your doubts to another person. You were letting yourself lean on Holden, and he wasn’t taking any of your bullshit, not like I did.”

You can’t always have all the answers and there are no guarantees. That’s why it’s called a leap of faith. That’s what all love is.”

Not just listen. But don’t come back and just say no without talking about options. I’m not losing you that easily. Give me a chance, please. This life suits you, baby. You might not be able to see it yet, but I do. You belong here. You belong with me. And I refuse to leave you on the hill.”

“Get the fuck out here, Holden Miller.” Gil’s voice boomed down the line. “Your boyfriend’s back, and I believe somewhere in the wonderful, fucking amazing speech of yours, you mentioned something about wanting to look after me. Well, here’s your chance. I’ve just taken a goddammed leap of faith that scares the shit out of me. I’ve got my whole life packed up in this ute and I could do with a little looking after right about now, if that’s okay with you?”