by Amanda Tru
Dylan blinked in surprise. “No, of course not.”
“And you’re sure she’s not your current girlfriend?” she pressed again.
“Yes, I’m sure,” Dylan scoffed. “I think that would be obvious from the sheer degree with which she dislikes me.”
Janice shrugged and turned the knob on the door. “Well, I believe the part about you not sending the roses.”
And with that, Janice left for court.
After driving for a solid five minutes in complete silence, Brooke couldn’t take it anymore. They had just left the courthouse, and Dylan apparently wasn’t intending to speak a single word about what had just happened.
“So, Janice…?” Brooke said finally slanting a look Dylan’s direction.
That telltale muscle in his jaw flexed, but otherwise, his face remained expressionless.
After another two minutes of silence, Brooke tried again. “So, Janice…?”
“Is crazy.” Dylan finally finished. “But I already told you that. That’s why we saw her first.”
“But you didn’t tell me she was a judge,” Brooke pointed out.
Dylan shrugged. “I thought ‘crazy’ was the more important fact at the time.” With a deep sigh of resignation, he relented and began speaking. “Janice is a phenomenal judge. She is a few years older than I am, but she’s still one of the youngest judges in the country. I had the misfortune of seeing her in the courtroom before I actually met her. I was so impressed with her conduct in the courtroom that I asked her out. However, at the time, I didn’t realize that while Janice plays the character of a judge to perfection, that isn’t who she is.”
“Well, I didn’t see her in the courtroom, I only saw the different-mood-a-minute version.”
“Now you see why I needed you to explain things to her first. Although she is generally good about keeping her personal life separate from work, she has the most influence to make my life difficult.”
“Are you kidding?” Brooke asked, incredulous. “I thought you were being arrested when you were handcuffed! How is that keeping things separate?”
Dylan laughed, but it sounded almost sarcastic, with no humor in it at all. “Janice wasn’t serious. The guards knew I was her ex and got a kick out of it. I knew at the time that it was just Janice being dramatic and trying to punish me with a little embarrassment.”
“Well, it certainly wasn’t a pleasant experience,” Brooke said, shaking her head. “But I do feel bad for her. Sometimes people who are extremely gifted have more trouble socially. And you did seem rather harsh at times.”
“I certainly tried to be!” Dylan said seriously. “I’ve tried nice before. I’ve tried ‘it’s not you, it’s me.’ I’ve tried getting another girlfriend. I’ve tried every way known to man of breaking up with her, and nothing worked. After the last breakup, I finally felt like I somewhat succeeded and cut her off. But then, when I found out roses had been sent to her in my name, I feared it would start the breakup process all over again.”
Brooke winced. “I don’t suppose it would do any good to tell you again how sorry I am? I’m also sorry I outed your hiding place in the courthouse hallway. I didn’t quite realize the level of drama you were trying to avoid. And I’m kind of sorry for offering her a revenge bouquet. For both your sakes, I hope Janice doesn’t bother you again.”
“Don’t be sorry for that last one. It was brilliant! I’m in favor of anything that gets her moving on. In fact, if she does send me a revenge bouquet, I would like to personally refund you the costs!”
While they had been traveling back toward Crossroads, Dylan suddenly made a left, turning off the main highway, onto a road that obviously saw much less use.
“Who are we going to see now?” Brooke asked, scanning her list to find an address that might match.
“Celeste Davenport,” Dylan replied.
“Bouquet of daisies and sunflowers,” Brooke said, finding the order on her list.
Dylan made another turn onto a tree-lined country road, but when he didn’t say anything further about their destination, Brooke pressed, “Is that all you’re going to tell me? That plan didn’t work so well the last time.”
Turning into a long lane, they headed toward a cluster of buildings, the most notable being a large red barn. “Celeste owns this farm. It has been in her family for generations.”
Dylan stopped the car beside the barn and stepped out. Brooke stepped out as well. It was a beautiful farm, worthy of a calendar shot. Ahead of them was a classic white farmhouse with a wrap-around porch.
“So why Miss Davenport?” Brooke asked, meeting him where he gazed warily around the farm. “Is she next in the spectrum of crazy?”
“No,” Dylan answered quickly. “Celeste isn’t crazy. She just—”
They froze at the sound of a shotgun being cocked.
“Has a gun,” Dylan finished.
“Celeste, it’s just me, Dylan Masters,” he called, putting his hands up as he slowly turned around. “We just came to talk about some flowers that were delivered yesterday.”
“Well, in that case, I guess I can wait to shoot you,” a pleasant voice sounded.
Slowly, Brooke turned to see a willowy blonde in boots and a cowboy hat.
“Hi, I’m Celeste Davenport,” she said to Brooke, walking up and offering her hand—the hand not holding the shotgun. “I assume you’re Dylan’s new girlfriend.”
“Hardly,” Brooke answered. “I’m the one who sent you flowers by mistake. My name is Brooke Hutchins. Dylan is just making me come and apologize in person.”
“Nice guy, isn’t he?” Celeste said with a grin. “Well, this sounds like a story I’d like to hear if you don’t mind following me to the barn. I have a few more animals to feed, and then we’ll go inside for some coffee.”
“Oh, I don’t think—” Brooke started, but then she caught the look of urgency in Dylan’s eyes and the slight shake of his head. Apparently, one didn’t turn down Celeste’s hospitality. “That sounds lovely,” Brooke said instead.
“Sorry about the greeting,” Celeste said, leading the way into the barn. “We’ve had reports of some shady activity in the area. One of my dogs turned up missing, and I’ve heard drugs may be coming through one of the outlying farms. Then, when I saw Dylan’s suit, I thought ‘salesman,’ which of course, may have required a shotgun as well. I don’t usually pull a gun on Dylan Masters, but I do like to have the option.” Turning around, Celeste winked at Brooke.
About thirty seconds after Brooke met Celeste, she decided she liked her very much. She was like sunshine, and one couldn’t help but feel happy and at ease in her presence. But there also seemed to be something tough underneath the surface, and Brooke didn’t doubt that though she liked to tease, she really did intend to keep Dylan on his toes.
Celeste pulled open a barn door, and Brooke and Dylan followed. Brooke blinked in the sudden dimness and breathed deeply of the rich smells of hay and animals. It wasn’t at all unpleasant to Brooke. Instead, it was rather calming.
She sneezed, perhaps having breathed a little too deeply.
“Bless you,” Dylan’s voice said in her ear.
She jumped, startled to have him so close.
Dylan smirked. “Sheesh, Brooke, I don’t bite.”
“Oh, I think you do,” she replied seriously. Without waiting to hear his denial, she hurried after Celeste.
The other woman hefted a bale of hay into a stall. “So how did you send me flowers by accident?” she asked.
Brooke dutifully gave her official report of how she had spilled coffee on the order papers, forcing her to reprint. But she hadn’t noticed the date range on the new print job and sent out old orders from the past year, instead of the new ones.
At no point did she try to make excuses or shift the blame to Tylee, Helen, or anyone but herself. “So I’m going around to the floral recipients to try to make things right. I am really sorry for any confusion the accidental order caused, Miss Davenport.”
Celeste’s rake paused in mucking out a stall. “So do you mean that all of Dylan’s orders from the past year were sent out again yesterday? As in, all of his many girlfriends received flowers?”
Brooke shifted uncomfortably. She really didn’t want to reveal Dylan’s personal information. “Well, Dylan’s weren’t the only orders that were messed up,” she said evasively. “In fact, all of the Crossroads orders were incorrect.”
“I don’t send flowers to every woman I date,” Dylan grumbled from somewhere behind Brooke.
“Wow, that’s rough,” Celeste said sympathetically. “Don’t feel bad about me. I have no illusions about Dylan. I had no idea why he sent me flowers, but I in no way thought he wanted to date me again.”
“Well, it’s good to know I managed to successfully break up with someone,” Dylan said tiredly.
“I would think that, with all of your practice, you should be very good at it by now,” Celeste said innocently.
“I suppose it’s a lot like mucking out a stall,” Dylan mused, nodding at her rake. “It doesn’t take a whole lot of skill to clean up a bunch of manure. You just have to get the job done.”
Celeste laughed. “Well, since you claim it is a skill-less job, why don’t you and Brooke finish this stall while I get the other chores done. The more people working, the sooner we get to coffee!”
Brooke didn’t have a lot of experience with farm work, and the promise of coffee definitely didn’t inspire her. But she was happy to help. Accepting the rake, she eagerly began raking the soiled straw into a corner.
“Well, if it gets us done sooner,” Dylan said under his breath. He shrugged out of his suit jacket and grabbed the pitchfork. Quickly, he began launching Brooke’s pile of dirty straw out of the stall. Obviously, this was not his first time at this task. And, by the way his muscles stretched his dress shirt taut, Brooke guessed he wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with manual labor and exercise.
Brooke tried to focus on Celeste’s voice as the other woman went around the barn, speaking softly to the animals as she worked, checking on feed troughs and water, and giving her subjects a good pat when needed.
Raking a bunch of straw back to the corner, she accidentally elbowed Dylan. “Oh, I’m sorry!” she said, hurrying to get out of his way, but her feet got moving too fast and became caught in the straw. She felt herself falling and knew she was going to land right in the manure-drenched mess on the barn floor.
Strong arms came around her, pulling her back up against Dylan’s solid chest. A strong jolt ran through her, like built up static electricity.
Her breath caught.
The instant she was upright, Dylan released her, as if only too eager to do so. Had he felt that strange current, too?
“Are you okay?” he asked gruffly.
“I’m fine,” Brooke was swift to respond. “Thank you. That would have been an unhappy landing.”
She didn’t look at him. She didn’t want to read his eyes and see his reaction. She just wanted to get away. Grabbing up her rake, she headed toward the opposite end of the stall and furiously began raking at the clean strands of yellow.
After a solid minute of her rake working at nothing and her thoughts working at everything, she was interrupted by the sound of Dylan clearing his throat.
“I’m feeling a little warm with all this work,” he said. “You wouldn’t mind if I just take off my shirt for a while? You know, just to get a little cooler?”
Brooke’s gaze shot up to him in panic. Reaching up, he was loosening his tie. Then his fingers moved to the top button.
Then she saw his eyes.
He knew!
His gaze was full of mirth as he watched her, watching him. He knew he made her uncomfortable and was fully enjoying finding a way to increase that discomfort.
“Go ahead!” Brooke said with an amazing calm that contradicted her blazing red face. “I’m sure the animals will enjoy the view.” With that, she leaned her rake up against the stall and retreated to find Celeste.
Walking down the length of the barn, a soft nicker drew her to a stop. A horse stuck his head out of a stall and looked at her as if trying to start a conversation.
“Well, hello there,” Brooke said softly, approaching with an outstretched hand. She was a beautiful gray horse with a white blaze that ran from her forehead to her soft nose. Brooke let the horse smell her fingers, then she reached up and gently ran her hand down along the white blaze before reaching over to scratch the animal’s neck. The horse leaned into her touch, seeming to enjoy it.
Horses fascinated Brooke, and she would have loved to have been around them more. However, her family had different priorities. Brooke’s experience with horses involved a few times riding in exotic places, like along a beach in Hawaii. While she loved the memories and the experiences her parents had provided, sometimes she saw the value of simply getting to pet a horse in a barn in her hometown of Crossroads.
“I see you’ve found Jezebel,” Celeste said, coming up beside Brooke.
“Oh, yes!” Brooke said, still enjoying the horse snuggles. “Is that her name? She’s a sweetheart.”
“Yes, she is,” Celeste said. “Do you ride?”
“Oh, no!” Brooke said quickly. “I mean, I’d like to. I have before, once upon a time. But I’ve never had lessons or anything.”
“Do you want to?” Celeste said, her eyebrows quirking up in question.
Brooke blinked. “Ride Jezebel?”
“Yes. She’s a very gentle horse.”
“Oh, no. I couldn’t. I mean, we can’t stay long. I’m sure Dylan—”
“Go ahead, Brooke,” came Dylan’s voice. “We have time.”
Brooke shot a glare to where Dylan stood leaning against a post. Thankfully, he was still fully clothed.
“Oh, good!” Celeste said enthusiastically, opening the stall and hooking a rope to Jezebel’s bridle. “Follow me. Just a few minutes on Jezebel will do you a world of good! Riding always makes me happy. You can’t carry a load of worries when you are on a horse!”
Brooke reluctantly followed Celeste out one of the barn doors into a large, fenced riding area. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to ride a horse. The little girl in Brooke very much did want to ride. But she was also nervous that she’d completely humiliate herself with her inexperience.
“Ok,” Celeste instructed. “Dylan, you mount first, and then Brooke can sit in front of you.”
“Excuse me?” Brooke sputtered. “Dylan is riding with me?”
“I thought you’d prefer it that way,” Celeste said innocently. “Jezebel adores Dylan, which isn’t surprising at all since she’s a female. She was Dylan’s horse in the short time we were together. If Dylan is with you, Jezebel will be extra careful. But I suppose if you don’t want Dylan, I can run and get a saddle for you to ride by yourself. Jezebel doesn’t like the saddle much, though. She actually seems to prefer being ridden bareback. But if you’d rather…”
Brooke held up her hand in surrender. “Fine. I’ll ride with Dylan.”
Not daring to make eye contact with Dylan, she watched out of the corner of her eye as he gave Jezebel a quick, loving pat. Then he used a rail of the fence to stand on while he hoisted his leg over her back, mounting with a surprisingly fluid motion for a man in dress pants and a shirt and tie.
Dylan reached his hand down, offering Brooke assistance.
Taking a deep breath, Brooke followed Dylan’s example and used the fence to aid in her mount. Thankfully, she’d worn leggings, a long tunic, and boots today, and the stretching of her leg was not accompanied by a rip. Her mount, however, was not nearly as graceful as Dylan’s. She practically knocked him over with her little lunge onto Jezebel’s back, and she would have slid off the other side if he hadn’t kept his seat and grabbed her waist, balancing her upright.
Before she had caught her breath again, Dylan’s arms were around her holding the reins, and Jezebel was moving forward.
Celeste, not seemi
ng to notice Brooke’s discomfort at all, kept up a rousing monologue as Dylan directed the horse around the perimeter of the corral. “After we broke up, I rather wished Jezebel had lived up to her name where Dylan was concerned. But she was never anything but sweet and obedient. Dylan, you know you’re welcome to come ride anytime, right?” she asked. “I have no hard feelings and no expectations, but I do believe Jezebel might! She needs you to come visit!”
Not bothering to wait for a response from Dylan, Celeste busied herself picking up some twine near the gate of the corral.
“Are you comfortable?” came Dylan’s soft voice in Brooke’s ear.
“I’m fine,” Brooke responded swiftly.
“Do you want—”
“Can you just please not talk?” Brooke said irritably. If he remained silent, she would have a lot easier time pretending that she couldn’t feel the heat of his body behind hers or smell a masculine scent that, while reminiscent of hard work mixed with something rather spicy, was not unpleasant at all.
“Sure,” Dylan said easily. “I was just going to offer to take my shirt off if that would make you more comfortable.”
Instant laughter bubbled up before Brooke could contain it. He was teasing her yet again! The rascal!
What a ridiculous day! And now, in perhaps the most ridiculous part of all, she was riding a horse in Dylan Masters’ arms while he teased and made her laugh.
She still couldn’t stand the man, but she was beginning to tolerate him on occasion. Now, if she could just make it through the rest of the day apologizing to his ex-girlfriends.
Dylan placed the reins in Brooke’s hands. She took them hesitantly and felt every slight shift of his body behind her as he placed his hands in a relaxed position at her hips. Strangely, however, Brooke felt more relaxed than she had been all day. Maybe Celeste was right in that it was impossible to worry when riding a horse.
“Why don’t you just ride Jezebel to the house?” Celeste called, opening the gate to the corral.
Jezebel seemed to know what to do without Brooke’s guidance, which allowed Brooke to be almost lulled by the swaying movements of the large animal. Without intentionally doing so, her ramrod-straight back gradually relaxed against Dylan’s chest as their bodies swayed as one unit to the rhythm of the horse’s gait. His warm puffs of breath against her neck sent goosebumps all the way down to Brooke’s ankles. She could feel the solid strength of muscles at her back, and the way she fit with him gave her an odd sense of belonging. She felt safe somehow, and yet every nerve in her body seemed electrified, and she liked both of those feelings way too much.
