The couch dipped a little as Layla sat down on the other section. “No movie today?”
“I think if I eat another piece of theater popcorn, I’ll explode,” Charity said. This couch was amazing.
“Me too. You know, if you want to nap, I won’t hold it against you.”
Charity frowned. “I would nap, but…something’s on my mind.”
“What?”
She felt around on the back of the couch, pulling down a crocheted throw and draping it over herself. “What I’m going to do. If I never make it back to racing, I need a backup plan—for me and the baby. And I don’t have any other talents.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No, I’m not kidding.” Charity didn’t need to open her eyes to see the skepticism written all over Layla’s face. But honestly, in this moment, she couldn’t think of a single talent she had aside from screwing up her entire barrel racing season and fighting with Trey.
“I’ll be right back.” Layla laughed. “Not that I think you’ll be going anywhere.”
Charity heard her pad across the room and go down the hall to her bedroom. Her mind wandered as drawers opened and closed, and the sounds melded into the background. She really could fall asleep right now. Maybe she should go lay in the bed. That comforter would provide, she was sure, the best nap in the entire world.
“Here.”
A piece of fabric slapped Charity across the chest, jolting her out of sleep. She opened her eyes and sat up. It was a leather vest. She held it up in front of her. “Is this—”
“Hint.” Layla sat back down on the couch. “You made that for me. You can’t have forgotten it.”
“I—” It was a very well-made vest. Charity did, in fact, remember making it, but when? Maybe college, or the end of high school? She turned it over in her hands, admiring the intricate stitching. When had she found the time to do all that? But then, she had so much practice that she was able to sew without having to think about it—while she was watching TV or talking with friends. Her hands just knew what to do.
“Drama class. Senior year. Even if you have pregnancy brain, you can’t have forgotten that.”
“Right. We did Annie Get Your Gun.”
“And I was Annie.” Layla struck a pose, drawing a laugh out of Charity. “See? You have at least two talents. Maybe three, if you count getting pregnant with Trey’s baby as one.”
Charity blushed. “I don’t.”
“Okay, but still. Look at that vest and tell me it’s not perfect for barrel racing or rodeo.”
“It is, but—”
“You don’t think women on the circuit would pay a premium for something like that?” Layla leaned back against the couch. “I do.”
“Seriously?” Charity turned the fabric over and over in her hands. “It’s a little plain for competition.”
Layla nodded. “I’m not saying you’d sell that one. I’m saying, that’s the basis for a new business. You can build on that. You could make and sell those. For a living.”
“You really think enough people would buy this kind of costume from me?”
“Girl, what are you saying?” Layla raised her eyebrows. “You know how much you put into your costumes.”
It was true. Charity still embellished her own costumes. It was just so much a part of her circuit life that she barely thought of it anymore. All those vests. All those studs. Some women liked to embellish even more than Charity did, with intricate designs stretching across every inch of the vest. And yes, she knew most of those women spent a fortune on their performance clothes—Charity had always been able to save money there by doing the work herself.
“Plus, this is quality. This kind of thing could be custom, to people’s measurements. The women on the circuit would eat this up. And don’t forget about the girls coming up through the junior leagues. They love the decorated vests to a ridiculous degree. Don’t you remember being one of those girls?”
“I do,” Charity said, thinking. “I would have killed for a custom one. But my parents never wanted to spend that kind of cash.” She really would have done anything for a custom vest back then. Charity had had the idea that something special enough would hide all her flaws—specifically, her lisp—though looking back she knew it wouldn’t have.
“Times are different now. People are more…competitive. Especially when it comes to their kids. At least, that’s how I see it.” Layla looked at her across the expanse of the sectional. “You could sell them online to people all over the country.”
“But how would they get to know me?” Charity didn’t know the first thing about advertising, or running an online store. How was she supposed to get set up, and then convince people to place orders?
“I’ve thought about this a lot in the last five minutes.” Layla’s eyes were bright. “You already have a portfolio of designs, since you do your own costumes. You could use those as patterns, or offer them as they are to your friends on the circuit. You have tons of connections there.”
Charity wasn’t quite seeing where this was going. “So?”
“So, women racing in the circuit have tons of visibility. You have so many of friends who are still racing, and they’ll talk you up when they get interviewed.”
Charity blinked at her friend. It was starting to come together in her mind. And it was true. How many times had she herself stood on the sidelines at an event and gotten ideas for her next costume? How many times had her heart beat fast with excitement?
“I’ll help you with the website,” Layla said. “And there’s a store I know that sells leather wholesale.”
A spark of excitement lit up Charity’s heart. “Is it…do you think it’s open? Also, how do you know about a wholesale leather store?
“One of my friends makes purses. Let me check on their hours” Layla pulled out her phone and tapped something in. “Yes, they're open. For another ninety minutes. But it’s fifteen to get there, so if you wanted to wait until tomorrow—”
“No.” Charity jumped up from the couch and ran to her room to get her purse. She was standing by the bed when she remembered she’d abandoned it on the kitchen counter. Then she ran back out. Layla laughed.
“Are you in a hurry?”
“If we only have ninety minutes, then yes, I’m in a hurry. Let’s go. You can tell me more about my new business on the way there.”
They jumped in a cab, and Layla was right—it took fifteen minutes to get to the leather store. Shelf upon shelf of it. Breathing it in was like breathing in a dream. A dream that smelled a lot like leather, and maybe sales, if this was really something people did. If it was something she could do.
Charity’s arms were full of pieces when her phone rang twenty minutes later. “Oh—” Her mind was humming with possibility. Fashioning Western-style competition clothes would be the perfect backup plan. She’d have plenty of time for creating while she was pregnant, and then while she was recovering from the birth. If everything went according to plan, it could give her enough leeway to make it through this without relying on everyone else’s help financially. She dug her phone out of her pocket, still ringing, and looked at the screen.
It was a video chat request.
From Austin.
The last person on earth that Charity wanted to talk to. She would have been more excited to see Trey’s name on the screen. Could he not leave her alone for a few days? And why was Austin trying to contact her? She scowled at the phone and moved to stuff it back into her pocket.
Layla snatched the phone out of her hand and answered.
“Layla, don’t—”
It was too late. “Hello, Austin. What can I do for you today?”
“Where’s my sister?” her brother demanded. “She left without saying where she was going.
“She’s perfectly well and happy.” Layla beamed into the video chat.
“What kind of store are you at? I’m going to figure it out. You can’t keep this a secret. And you shouldn’t. My parents
will be worried sick if they find out she’s skipped town.”
“What, are you going to run and tell them that their grown daughter went out of town for the weekend? I don’t think so.”
“I should, since—”
“Since nothing. She’ll be back. Calm down.” Layla pointed the phone at a saddle on display. “Look at this saddle, Austin. What do you think?”
“Are you at an event?” Austin’s voice held a note of genuine worry. “She shouldn’t be riding. Layla, I swear to god—”
“Protective much?” Layla blew him a kiss. “Everything’s fine. She’ll be home before you know it.”
“If you let her ride a horse, I’ll hold you personally responsible for—”
“Bye bye,” said Layla, and hung up on him.
Charity gazed at her, full of love. “You’re my best friend. You know that?”
“I know. Now, let’s buy this leather. I’ll order takeout on the way home, and we can get started.”
Twelve
Charity was gone for five long days, and Trey was beside himself.
He tried not to be. He tried to act like everything was normal. For years, he had not concerned himself with Charity’s comings and goings. At least not outwardly. It had been easy enough to pretend that his feelings for her were only surface-level, the way you might think about a distant cousin.
But that had been a lie, even then.
And everything was different now.
Now that Charity was pregnant with his child, he felt a painful need to know that she was all right at all times. And yes, she had walked away from him. Yes, he wanted to respect her independence, and her privacy.
So, he didn’t drive to her house on Friday.
What he did do—and it made him slightly ashamed to do it—was ride Kepler out to the boundary of his property. Through a thin line of trees there, he could see her little house and the part of the driveway where she usually parked her truck.
The driveway was empty.
No lights were on in the house.
The sun hadn’t fully set, so that in itself wasn’t a cause for alarm. She could easily be at her parents’ house, or in town somewhere. He told himself that nothing was out of the ordinary and went back home, tossing and turning all night, thinking of her.
The next day, he rode Kepler out in the middle of the day to stretch his legs. Still no truck. It wasn’t as if Charity had to tell him when she was leaving, but…what if something had happened to her? He pulled out his phone and sent a quick text. “Saw you haven’t been home. Everything okay?” Forty minutes later, a clipped reply: “Yep. Back in a few days.”
After that, Trey forced himself to stay away from the house. If she was spending time elsewhere, it was none of his business. But whenever he thought about Charity out on her own, his heart beat hard and fast, almost out of control. She had every right to go anywhere she wanted. But deep down, he felt he had a right to know if she was going to be away for days at a time.
He lasted until Tuesday afternoon.
Trey finished every last chore to his exacting specifications, even asking a few of his farm hands to stay and make sure everything with the horses was shipshape. He did a couple of small repair projects on the outbuildings. Then he went in and took a shower and shaved. It was all he could do to force his hands to stay steady.
He was only paying a visit to make sure she was okay. That’s what he told himself as he drove over in the truck. And if she still wasn’t there, he’d try Austin’s house. Austin might know where she’d gone. If Austin didn’t know, Trey would ask the Millers directly. They wouldn’t think it was odd. They’d all known each other for years. Nobody would think it was too strange if he wanted to know where she’d taken off to. They were supposed to be working with each other, after all. And wasn’t it a little strange that she hadn’t mentioned where she’d gone? What if the text had been some coded reply? What if he’d missed something?
By the time he pulled up in front of her house, there were three separate nightmare scenarios running through his mind. It made his chest feel tight.
But it was immediately dispelled by the sight of her little red truck, parked in its usual spot.
Trey practically ran for the door, pulling his hand back at the last moment. He made himself knock casually, as if he hadn’t just been about to have a heart attack.
Light footsteps crossed the floor inside, and then Charity pulled open the door mid-yawn.
“Charity.” His relief was so ridiculously powerful, that he stepped inside without asking. “Are you—is everything all right?”
She finished the yawn and looked skeptically at him. “Yes. Everything’s fine. Why?”
“You’ve been gone for days.” Trey reached back and shut the door behind him. “I was—I was really worried about you.”
“Have you been skulking around my house?”
“No,” he said quickly. “No. Not skulking. I haven’t even come here the last few days. Kepler and I made a few rides out to the property line, but—”
“So, you were skulking.”
“That word is…kind of terrible.”
“Spying, then.”
“Charity.” He did not know how to project the depth of his feeling to her. “I was worried that something had happened to you. Or the baby.”
“Nothing happened.” Charity went and sat on her sofa, kicking her feet up on the ottoman. “I went to see Layla in Chicago for the weekend.” She frowned a little. “Her couch is a lot nicer than mine. Maybe one day, when I’m a huge success, I’ll buy a sectional.”
“A sectional wouldn’t fit in here,” Trey said, then caught himself. “Wait. Chicago?”
“Yes. That’s where she lives.”
“And you couldn’t have…you couldn’t have told me…or anyone?”
Trey took a deep breath and tried to relax himself. He could see Charity’s shoulders tightening. If he didn’t want this to backfire, he needed to back off.
“I’m sorry. I’m not saying that you’re answerable to me. I was just worried.”
Charity cut a glance at him and nodded. “I…appreciate that, I guess. That you could worry without bothering me all weekend. I am, after all, a grown woman.”
“I know that.”
“I’m also a grown woman who is not going to marry you,” she said, watching his face. “I’m not getting married without love.”
But I love you, Trey wanted to blurt out. It was true. And it wasn’t something he had thought about before this moment—not in such definite terms. But the way he felt about Charity, especially when she was gone, told him the truth. And there was more to it. I’ve loved you for a long time.
Even if he tried to tell her that, she would never believe him. Not after he’d made such a terrible mess of things.
Okay. New plan. He would work every day from now on to show her how much he cared. Then a true love could build between them.
But for now…
“How was the trip?”
Charity sighed, smiling. “It was wonderful. There’s so much to do in Chicago that I could have spent a month there.”
That thought made his stomach lurch. “Yeah? Did you go see…lots of stuff?”
“At least one museum a day, except Monday when they were all closed.” Charity said. “I saw a lot of movies that’ll never come to the theater here.” She laughed. “We miss out on a lot.”
He wanted to tell her that he didn’t think he’d missed out on anything, except being with her, but kept that to himself.
“You seem happier. More relaxed.”
She sat up and crossed the room, retrieving a little suitcase from the corner. “It’s true. I am. Because now I have a plan.”
That got his attention. A plan for what? The baby? Racing? The house? Was she moving to Chicago? Trey stopped the cascade of thoughts before they could get the best of him. “Oh, yeah? What kind of a plan?”
“A plan for what I can do while I’m not racing.”
/> Trey had no idea what was in the case. Not a single clue. He only hoped it was something that wasn’t too dangerous. And something that didn’t involve moving to Chicago.
Charity set the case on the couch and beckoned for him to come over. He moved to her side, trying not to stand too close. It didn’t matter. He could still smell her scent on the air and he took in a big breath. Home. She was home.
She opened the case and took out…
…a leather vest?
“I made this while I was at Layla’s.”
Trey had a vague memory of Charity getting into sewing at some point in high school, but he hadn’t seen much of it first- hand. Her mother, if he recalled correctly, had a separate sewing room, and anyway, by then he and Austin had been out riding the rodeo circuit. “You made this?”
“I did indeed. And that’s my plan.”
“This vest is your plan?”
She laughed. “Not just this vest. Layla and I came up with a little business idea. I can make and sell custom vests to the women who are on the barrel racing circuit.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.” She handed him the vest. “I’m going to get in contact with some of the people I know and ask them if they’d be willing to wear my vests as kind of a representation. I can give them a discount in exchange for it, but most of them travel all over the country for events, which could drum up a lot of publicity for me. The vests I’ve made could get a ton of orders.”
“How are you going to take orders? You’re not thinking of traveling to every event, are you?”
“No. No.” Charity shook her head. “Layla’s helping me set up a website. I need to come up with instructions on how to get accurate measurements. That’s the trickiest part, I think. But if people are really concerned about getting a perfect fit, they can always visit me.”
Now it was Trey’s turn to laugh. They lived in the middle of nowhere. Nobody would come all this way for a vest.
The Cowboy’s Mistake Page 9
