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But was it really too far? Or just too accurate? It was precisely why men like Reeve were so bad for me – because I wanted them to be bad for me. And, when they were, it hurt.

Funny how then I wanted them even more.

“No,” I said, making a decision, for once, on my own. The only one I could. “I don’t want any of this. This is over.”

“This is not over,” he said, but I’d already turned away.

He might have come after me again, except, right then, Parker drove up on one of the three-wheelers, the expression on his face clearly upset.

Reeve’s eyes darted from me to his stable manager, as if trying to choose which of us to deal with. Finally, he said, “We are not done talking about this, Emily,” then turned to Parker. “What is it?”

“You’re needed back at the house.” He glanced at me and I could sense he was unsure whether he should say more in front of me.

Immediately, I feared the worst. “Is it Amber?”

Reeve arched a brow, seconding my question.

“I’m not sure. Come with me and you’ll see.”