It was just too much for her.
Trey knew enough about pregnancy to know that the early weeks were often the hardest and most tiring, and here Charity was, not even out of her first trimester and still pushing herself as hard as he’d ever seen her. Part of him wished she could be out on the circuit instead. That might have been easier. At least it was a routine she was used to. But that was a no go, obviously, and the bulk order consumed her completely.
Which was why he found himself searching for the phone number Western Wear International’s buyer department one morning.
He was back in from all his chores and Charity was still in her work room. She’d been there since before he woke up this morning, and the sight of her bent over the worktable had snapped something inside of him. He couldn’t let her keep going like this, and he knew she’d never ask for help or tell the buyer that she needed more time. But he wasn’t going to go so far as to search in her private records. No. He’d simply handle this by himself.
The number was easy to find, and inside five minutes he had a kind lady named Louise from the department on the phone. He gave Charity’s name and explained the situation.
“Oh, congratulations,” gushed Louise. “Twins. How exciting!”
“It’s…not public information or anything,” Trey said. “We’ve only told our closest family.” That was probably a smart thing to say, now that he thought about it. The world on the circuit was small, and he didn’t want their news getting out before Charity was ready. This was an emergency situation, though. Louise had to know. “The reason I’m calling is that I’m worried about my…I’m worried about Charity’s health, in light of all that’s happened. She’s been working herself ragged because she wants to fulfill his order for you, but I’m wondering if—”
“We can absolutely arrange an extension on the deadline. In fact, if she’d rather send the pieces over time in batches of ten, that would be fine with me.”
Trey’s body flooded with relief. “Would it? I know the original contract said something about having them all arrive at the same time, but—”
“That’s just our standard language,” Louise assured him. “I don’t see any problem with adjusting the terms a bit. I’ll send an email to Charity now letting her know. And best of luck with everything. Don’t hesitate to reach out to me again if she needs more time, all right?”
Trey ended the call, feeling prouder of himself than he ever had. What better way to celebrate than a late breakfast? Or, at this point, maybe it could be an early lunch.
He found Charity in the workroom, hunched over one of her latest pieces. Trey came up behind her and kissed the side of her neck. She turned away from her work with a smile. “I didn’t miss our meeting at the paddock, did I?”
“No. And I’m taking you out to lunch. Or breakfast. Call it brunch.” He offered her a hand. “Take a break.”
“All right,” Charity said, putting the piece aside with a quizzical look. “Why are you in such a good mood?”
“I made things easier on you. Where do you want to eat?”
Her forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Wait—rewind. What do you mean, you made things easier for me? How’d you do that?”
They moved toward the door of the workshop. “I put in a call to the buyers’ department at Western Wear International.”
Charity stopped dead, and Trey turned to face her.
“You did what?”
“I talked to a nice lady named Louise there. She said it’s more than fine if you want to send the pieces in batches of ten instead of all at once, and she’s extended the deadline.” He took both of her hands in his. “It won’t mean quite so many late nights and early mornings.”
“Oh, my god, Trey.”
He searched her face. She looked…furious.
“You’re angry,” he said. There was no point in saying anything else—it was clear that she was.
“I can’t believe you did that.” Charity’s voice was sharp and deadly. “You undermined me as a businesswoman and you made me seem unprofessional.”
“I just made a phone call and explained the situation, Charity. She understands how it is when—”
“I—” Charity pulled her hands away from him, shaking her head, her lips pressed into a thin line. “I can’t even listen to you right now.” She whirled away, heading back toward the workbench. “I have work to do. If you want to eat, go without me. I’m not in the mood.”
Trey kept his mouth shut. It seemed like the only way not to make things worse.
Charity sat down at the workbench and snatched up the piece she’d been working on. When several moments went by in silence, Trey took the hint and left.
Fine. He should have seen that coming. He hadn’t asked for her permission to make the call, and Charity certainly hadn’t asked him to do it. But he’d been so worried for her. He’d convinced himself that it would seem more like a happy surprise than anything else.
Trey went out to the barn and took Kepler to the paddock. With lunch plans off the table, he might as well get a head start on his work with Kepler. He put the horse through his paces out in the paddock, impressed with both of them. After one more turn around the barrels, he brought Kepler to a stop, dismounted, and gave the horse a pat. “You’ll be a great asset for your next rider, buddy,” he said.
“That rider will be me.”
Trey hadn’t noticed Charity coming to the paddock, or even coming inside it. But she stood a few feet away now with her arms crossed over her chest and a flat determination on her face. Trey, for one, wasn’t sold on Charity ever going back out on the circuit, though he might have fantasied about it during the late nights when she was working herself too hard at her new business. He’d never forget the way she looked falling out of that turn, and he didn’t think he could bear the risk of her getting hurt when she was the mother of his children.
But now wasn’t the time to start an all-out argument. “Kepler deserves to have what he’s worked so hard for,” he said, looking mainly at the horse.
There was silence from Charity, and then: “I’m not selling him.”
“All right.”
The quiet between them seemed weighted and heavy, and couldn’t even be undone by the chatter of birds in the trees by the paddock or the hum of insects over the taller grass.
“Maybe he should be implemented into the children’s program,” Charity offered.
“Maybe,” said Trey neutrally, though he hadn’t trained Kepler to be around children aside from a few visits to the 4-H center. Charity’s other horse, Lady, could race and trot in a little circle with a small rider on her back. Kepler? He wasn’t sure. “We haven’t had him around any children, though. Can’t be too sure if his temperament is right for that kind of work.”
“We can take him to the next event, then.” Charity seemed to have made up her mind, and her voice was so confident that Trey didn’t bother saying anything else. But he should say something shouldn’t he? He cut a quick glance at her face. She no longer seemed angry, per se, but that was no guarantee that it wasn’t boiling underneath the surface.
Charity hung back by the fence as Trey took Kepler for a few more turns through the barrels. She watched with silent concentration, and he allowed himself to hope that this would all blow over. For all he knew, maybe it already had.
She didn’t say anything about his meddling in her business as they led Kepler back to the barn and washed and brushed him, then put out his feed. Aside from the few questions necessary to coordinate their efforts, she didn’t give him the time of day.
So maybe she wasn’t over it. Maybe she was only withdrawing from him, pulling herself as far away as humanly possible without another argument like they’d had at her house. If he truly paid attention, he could see that things were not all right with Charity.
When they were finished, Trey headed back to the house for a shower. Charity stayed behind in the barn, though he heard the front door shutting as he stepped out of the showe
r and toweled off. Good. At least she’d come back. He could extend an olive branch in the form of some food, and perhaps he could convince her to talk things over. Or talk to him at all. He’d take either one.
Trey dressed, then found himself hesitating in his bedroom. No. He wasn’t going to do this. He wasn’t going to avoid her because of a little lingering tension. After all, he’d done the right thing. For Charity. For the babies. For all of them, really. He could admit that maybe he should have asked her first, but he’d been trying to relieve stress.
He went out and headed downstairs, only to meet Charity in the living room. Trey flashed her as big a smile as he could put on. “Have a seat and relax. I’ll make dinner. Whatever you like, I’ll make it."
She waved him off. “Don’t bother on my account. I’m going out.”
“Where to?”
Charity cocked her head to the side, as if challenging him to ask again. “I’m going out,” was all she would say.
His heart pounded. Was it…a date? He scanned her outfit for any clues, but she wore a pair of shorts and a black t-shirt. It was nothing out of the ordinary, though he did have to admit that she was gorgeous. She was always gorgeous, even when she was furious with him. Trey wasn’t sure that she was furious in this moment. It would have been easier if she were more transparent.
“All right,” he said finally, and it set her into motion as if she’d been waiting for him to say something.
Trey followed her to the door and watched as she stepped out onto the porch without a backward glance. Watching her go was harder than he’d anticipated. “You sure you don’t need a ride?” He called after her.
Charity turned back. “Why on earth would I need a ride?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know. Maybe you don’t feel like driving. I’ve got time, if you don’t—”
She dangled her keys from her fingertips. “I’m more than fine to drive. I’m a grown woman. I can handle it.” He deserved that barb, although he didn’t think he deserved it as much as Charity clearly thought he did. Then she turned away again, heading for her truck. She didn’t say another word, just hopped in and started it up.
Trey couldn’t help himself—he watched the little red truck rumble out of his driveway and head for the main road. Only when it was completely out of sight did he shut the door behind him.
The house seemed suspiciously quiet without Charity. He’d lived alone for a long time, but now, without her, the absence of the small sounds of her presence rang in his ears. Trey couldn’t shake the feeling that letting her drive away like that before they’d had the chance to talk things out had been a mistake. She was only getting farther away from him with every moment that passed, and he had no idea if she’d be back again.
That was something he didn’t want to even consider.
Trey didn’t think Charity would leave all her work behind, but he couldn’t put anything past her. He’d underestimated her will too many times, and he’d always paid the price for it.
He moved aimlessly through his house, listening to the quiet and wondering what she was up to. Who she was seeing? He slid his phone out of his pocket, but thought better of texting her. If she wanted him to know about her plans, she would have told him. And she had not.
Plus, there was no way she’d answer him while she was driving. She was too smart for that.
It was going to be a long evening.
Nineteen
Charity felt more than a little satisfied that she’d gotten under Trey’s skin. She’d seen the look on his face just before she went out the door. Charity would bet a million dollars that Trey thought she was going out on a date, and it had cut him to the quick.
The thrill of satisfaction gave way to an ache that made her scowl. She didn’t really want to hurt Trey, even when she was righteously pissed at him. Why couldn’t he understand what she needed from him? What was it about him that made him so sure he was always in the right? How dare he make that call?
Even as she tapped the accelerator and headed toward town, she could already feel herself wanting to forgive him. Making excuses for him. But it was too soon for that.
In one way, he was right. She was going on a date. Just not in the way that Trey was probably imagining. She rolled her eyes. Did he seriously think she was searching out another man at a time like this? How absurd.
The date was with Layla.
It was, of course, impossible for them to meet for dinner on such short notice. But ever since they’d both headed off to college, they’d done their best to arrange phone dates. Sometimes they both ordered takeout and video chatted from home, but other times, like this one, they both agreed to go out. It wasn’t that weird, when you considered they were video chatting. There were real faces and voices involved, and Charity always kept the volume at a reasonable level so she didn’t irritate anyone else.
At Rosie’s Family Restaurant off the highway, Charity parked in a spot right out front and asked for a table for one wherever it was quietest. The hostess, a petite brunette with a bright smile named Kayla—Charity had been a few years behind her in school—gave her a corner booth in the back, fairly far from all the other patrons. It was perfect. She felt herself relax as she slid into the seat of the booth and set up her phone. Layla had sent her a little stand several months before. Her best friend used one on her phone, too, and that way they could both see each other and eat without awkwardly holding phones up to their faces.
Charity ordered an iced tea and a burger from the waitress. “Oh, and there’s one other thing,” she added as soon as she finished telling the young woman that she wanted her burger well done with only ketchup. “I’m going to be…taking a video meeting while I’m here. I hope that won’t bother you. I promise not to be an inconsiderate jerk about it.”
“No problem.” The waitress beamed down at her. She looked enough like the hostess that they could be sisters. “I’ll try to interrupt as little as possible.”
“You’re totally not interrupting,” Charity said with a smile, feeling a little pang of regret. Why hadn’t she been a little more understanding with Trey? After all, he’d been so much more considerate the last few weeks.
“I’ll be right back with your drink.”
Charity turned to her phone and connected the video app while she waited. When Layla’s face appeared on the screen, she was already sipping a cocktail.
“Sorry,” said Laila with a rueful grin. “I was going to hide it off screen while we were chatting.”
“Oh, please,” Charity said. “I can’t drink, but that doesn’t mean you should enjoy yourself any less.”
“The true pleasure is, as always, talking to you.” Layla tossed a kiss in the direction of the screen. “Now, tell me everything. It’s not often you call an emergency dinner.”
“I don’t know,” Charity sighed. “I feel like I’m a constant state of emergency lately. I was just in Chicago, you know. It wasn’t that long ago.”
Layla nodded sagely. “Being pregnant is kind of an emergency.” Then she straightened up. “But you’re handling it admirably, my friend. You’re going to make an amazing mom.”
“An amazing single mom, probably.” Now that she was saying it out loud, Charity realized she half feared being a single parent and half relished the challenge.
“What do you mean?”
“Things haven’t been…going very well with Trey.”
Layla took another sip of her cocktail. “I thought he was getting better. That’s what it sounded like from your texts.”
“It was, until today.”
“All right.” Layla leaned back in the booth of her own seat. “Spill the details.”
Charity told her all about the way Trey had secretly called her new clients behind her back and asked for an extension. Anger flared brightly, zinging through her for the second time, as she relayed the details to her best friend. Layla didn’t even reach for her drink. She listened with rapt attention, her own face getting more f
rustrated by the second.
“God. Is this man ever going to get a clue?”
“I know. Right?” At some point while Charity was talking, the waitress had come by with her iced tea. She was stealthy, that one, because Charity only discovered that the drink was there when she reached for it out of habit and took a big, angry sip. “I don’t know what he was thinking. I have been so clear with him about my expectations.”
“You’ve been crystal clear,” agreed Layla.
“And then he goes and does this.” Charity shook her head. “I mean…” She was almost at her limit for being so exasperated. “I get where he’s coming from, in a way. I know he’s trying to make things go as smoothly as possible for me when it comes to the babies. But I am making an effort, too. He doesn’t seem to see that.”
Layla cocked her head to the side. “Are you saying this fight got a little out of hand?”
“It wasn’t a fight. Not exactly.” The waitress crept up to the table and slid Charity’s plate, a burger and a heaped serving of fries, toward her. “Thank you so much,” she said to the waitress.
“You’re welcome,” said Layla magnanimously.
“Not you,” Charity laughed, but then her face settled back into a more serious expression. “I’m saying that we know this pregnancy is riskier than average. So, I’m trying to set aside as much money as possible before the babies arrive. All he sees is that I’m working too hard, but I should be the one to make that call. At the very least, if he was worried then he should have talked to me about it instead of going behind my back.”
“You want to know what I think?” Layla picked up one of her own fries as she waited for Charity to reply. She must have a stealthy waitress too.
The Cowboy’s Mistake Page 14
