Free Dirty Angel-BarbaraElsborg by Barbara Elsborg

himself together. He had to put the shirt back on. It was too cold not to, but he shuddered as he fastened the buttons. The material felt colder against his skin. He couldn’t face wearing the coat. It was so wet, water dripped from it. Before he tossed it aside, he took the apple from his pocket and gave the rest to the horse.
    If he didn’t find something to wrap himself in, he’d freeze. Not to death, though. He smiled briefly.
    “Back in a minute,” he told the horse and slipped out of the stall.
    He nearly had a heart attack when he felt the nudge on his shoulder. The horse had followed him.
    “How did you do that? I fastened you in.”
    The animal trotted ahead and nickered at the pile of blankets. Aden stopped in his tracks. It wasn’t possible the horse knew what he needed. He grabbed three or four of the pieces of material and walked back to the stall. The horse’s name was written on a chalk board on the door. “Hello, Captain.”
    The horse went back into the stall and Aden followed, double-checking the catch. When Captain snorted into his face, Aden snorted back. “Nice to meet you too. Going to lie down? Do horses lie down to sleep?”
    He had no idea, but the horse settled on the straw and Aden wrapped the blankets around both of them and lay close. He pulled off his boots and curled his cold toes in the straw, thought about it, then put them against the horse’s warm leg.
    “Don’t get any ideas,” he muttered. “No kissing. Not on our first date.”
     
     
    Brody left the cottage carrying his coffee in a thermos mug. He’d had no calls last night, but he’d tossed and turned thinking about the guy he’d hit, wondering if he was okay, trying to figure out why he hadn’t hung around and where he could have gone—on foot and in the rain. Brody had been sure his leg had been broken, but then how could he have walked anywhere? So maybe not broken, but definitely injured. He hadn’t imagined the blood. But where had it come from? Head? Leg? Somewhere else? On the other hand, maybe it had been a deer he’d hit and he’d been so freaked out he’d conjured up that conversation. He was messed up enough in the head for that to be the truth.
    Along with anxiety about last night, what had happened when he’d left the club kept surging to the forefront of his mind. He’d never actually been forced into sex before. Not quite, but that had been rape. He shook when the word formed in his head. He’d been right not going to the police, but what if he’d left some other guy open to that sort of attack by the same men?
    He was disgusted by the risks he was taking. It had to stop. No more casual pickups. No more clubs. He’d take Grindr off his phone. He needed a hobby to occupy him when he wasn’t working. Something to stop him ruining his life. Maybe he could try painting or learn a foreign language or find some physical activity that tired him out. Like sex? He groaned.
    Brody wasn’t working today, but he still had stuff to do for Des. In return for allowing Brody to stay in one of the two self-contained holiday cottages next to the farm—and pay for the privilege—Brody had to do his fair share of the work associated with the business. It was hard not to be resentful when their parents had chosen to leave everything to Des even though Brody sort of understood why they’d done it.
    Saturday was the day when many of those who lodged their horses at the livery came to exercise them. Des employed a few local youngsters to do the mucking out and grooming in return for lessons. Brody didn’t have the patience to teach, not that Des had asked him to. As he made his way to the barn he thought again about last night. His stomach churned with anxiety. Maybe he ought to go and have another look for the guy. Or for a deer.
    Des was just going into the stable when Brody turned the corner.
    “I’m going to check on the mare,” Brody said.
    “You still look like crap.”
    “I’m fine.”
    “Stay,