She didn’t really go all that far to college, only across the state to the University of Montana, but that was far enough. During the summers, instead of coming home, she worked in Missoula to pay her tuition. She had only been home to Lark Field six times since graduation: the last three Thanksgivings and Christmases. She’d gotten together with her old high school friends during those vacations, making sure she never went anywhere Kye McBride might be. If he came over to see Carson, she stayed in her room. She even found reasons to skip out on church. Sudden sickness, mostly. God could do without her when Kye was in the building.
Avoiding Kye had made the return trips to Lark Field bearable, fun even. She should have known, however, she couldn’t cheat fate for long. Fate enjoys a good drama.
Elsie had known she would have to face Kye at her brother’s wedding. He was going to be Carson’s best man. Still, she hadn’t planned on him seeing her this way—a bedraggled traveler stuck on his property while his cows held her hostage.
Elsie sat in her car, gripping the steering wheel while Kye rode up on a chestnut horse. Kye was close enough now that she could see wisps of brown hair sticking out from under his cowboy hat. His features were just as she remembered them: strong jawline, slender face, dark blue eyes that could look into your soul and then come up with a math equation to quantify what he saw.
She immediately felt eighteen again.
He prodded his horse to walk around to the driver’s side of the car, only casually glancing at the cows that surrounded her. He motioned for her to roll down the window, then leaned forward over the horn of the saddle. His amusement showed in the quirk of his smile. “So, having car problems?”
“Cow problems, actually,” she replied lightly. “Do you train them to surround strangers this way? If I hand over my wallet will they go away?”
Kye surveyed the cattle. “You honked your horn at them, didn’t you?”
It was a pointless question. He must have heard her from wherever he’d been. Still, the tone of his voice made her feel as though she’d done something stupid, something that needed explanation. “Yes,” she said. “A couple were standing in the road. I honked to try and get them to move.” She looked over her shoulder at the still-gathering crowd of cows congregating on the road behind her.
“Well,” he said, drawing out the word, “that’s how we let them know it's time to eat. One of the hands drives out here in the truck, drops off the hay, and honks the horn.” He gestured toward the cattle. “They’re waiting for you to hand out some dinner.”
Oh, so this was the cow version of a feeding frenzy, and she was in the middle of it. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “What happens if I don’t feed them?”
Kye didn’t answer. He already had his cell phone out and was asking someone named Frank to come out and bring hay. Finally Kye slipped his phone into his pocket. “Might as well turn off your car. It’ll take a few minutes.”
“Isn’t there any other way you can get rid of them? I have, um . . .” She didn’t want to admit she was driving across Montana in a car that had trouble starting. He would think it was a stupid thing to do, and she’d already done enough to convince him of her foolishness.
Kye cocked an eyebrow at her, waiting for her to finish.
“My car’s battery is temperamental,” she said. “I don’t want to turn it off.”
“Temperamental?” he asked. “By that, do you mean old and nearly dead?”
“No, it’s a new battery. It’s the connections . . . or something,” she added vaguely. Her knowledge of car parts wasn’t extensive. She had planned on turning the entire thing over to her dad and letting him handle it. Her dad loved to tinker with cars.
Kye pulled out his phone again. This time when he spoke into the phone, he said, “Hey, while you’re out dropping off feed, can you take a look at Elsie’s car? She’s having problems with her battery.”
Kye paused, listening. Elsie wondered if Frank was questioning why she was driving long distances down lonely roads in an unreliable car.
“Right,” Kye said into the phone. “Thanks.” He slid his phone back into his pocket. “Frank will take a look at your car while he’s out here.”
Elsie tapped her steering wheel. “You really don’t need to make him do that . . .”
Kye tipped his hat in a mock gesture of gallantry. “It’s the least I could offer after you’ve been held up at cowpoint on my property.”
“Thanks,” she said stiffly. She turned off her car.
She had expected Kye to ride off—preferably into the sunset, but instead he gestured for her to get out of the car. “It’s too cold to wait out here. I’ll take you up to the house. You can stay there until your car is ready.”
She didn’t move, didn’t open the door. The last thing she wanted was to prolong this or any conversation with Kye. “That’s okay. I don’t want to trouble you.”
“Hmm,” he said as though giving her words consideration. “I think taking you to the house would be much less trouble than having to explain to your brother why your frozen corpse is on my ranch.”
Elsie sighed. She had no choice. She put on her coat, opened the door, and stepped outside. A cold breeze pushed across her cheeks and fingered through her hair. A Lark Field winter at its best. She pulled up her coat’s hood and shut the car door. The sound seemed hollow, final.
Kye held his hand down to her and took his foot out of the stirrup so she could get a leg up. “Do you remember how to ride a horse?”
“It’s like a bike, right? You never forget.”
He hauled her up on the horse behind him. “Probably. I imagine there’re a lot of things you never forget, Elsie.”
What was that supposed to mean? She opened her mouth to ask and then decided against it. She was done wasting her time trying to figure out what Kye was thinking.
“Hold onto me,” he told her.
She wrapped her arms loosely around him. It was disconcerting to sit so close to him, to feel the movement of his body along with the horse’s plodding.
She looked at the wide open spaces around her, the sea of pine trees that spread across the distant hills. The trees were scarcer down here where it was flatter. It looked like a few dozen of them had wandered away from the hills, probably to round up the stray bushes that dotted the landscape. The sky above her spread out vast and open. When she was a little girl she used to think that if she looked hard enough she could see all the way to heaven.
The hills and trees and sky were all saying, “Come back and stay where you belong.”
Elsie kept gazing at the scenery so she wouldn’t think about Kye sitting so closely to her. He was warm and smelled of leather. The last time they’d been sitting so closely together—nope, there was no point in letting herself think about those two seconds . . . his mouth moving against hers . . . the taste of mint on his lips. Had he kissed her back or had it only been horrified alarm?
“So,” Kye said. “I hear you’re majoring in business.”
He’d heard? She hadn’t expected him to know anything about what she’d been doing. She’d hoped he’d forgotten about her as soon as she graduated, although she supposed that had always been a fruitless hope. He was her brother’s friend, and besides, she had given him enough reasons to remember her.
“You heard right,” she said.
“I always expected you to pick a major that used a lot of math. You were so good at it.”
Yeah, but only because she had wanted to impress him. She shrugged. “I guess I lost my taste for math after high school.”
Kye’s voice had the same smooth tone he used when teaching and trying to get a point across. “Maybe you should pick it up again and see if tastes better now.”
Was he flirting? Teasing? Or just being a math teacher? Well, it didn’t matter. She was over him. She didn’t care how he . . . um, math tasted anymore.
She had gone too long without speaking. He went on, asking her generic sorts of questions about c
ollege. Did she like Missoula? How were her classes going? How many credits was she taking?
She answered as succinctly as possible, then asked him questions about the ranch and his family so she could get out of talking about herself. It all felt formal and stiff, like two strangers forced into a conversation. On the bright side, at least their first meeting was out of the way. Pleasantries exchanged. Now they could cordially ignore each other at the wedding and be done with it.
They’d reached the house. It was a sprawling red-brick home with pine trees planted at each corner, framing it in a continual Christmas evergreen sort of way. Elsie dismounted, then waited for Kye. He swung his leg around the horse in one swift, well-practiced motion. His legs were still lean and muscular, perfection in faded blue jeans.
“Go on inside,” he told her. “I’ll be in as soon as I put my horse in the stables.”
“Okay,” she said and headed up the walkway. She felt the awkwardness of every step she took to the door. She had seen Kye’s house before. When Carson had been younger, sometimes their parents had dropped him off here. Elsie had never been inside, though. Was she supposed to ring the doorbell? Was anybody else home? Probably not, or Kye wouldn’t have sent her in without any sort of preamble.
She opened the door, said a tentative “hello?” then stepped inside.
No one answered. Elsie relaxed and shut the door behind her.
Kye’s house was decorated in shades of testosterone tans and browns. The couch and loveseat in the living room looked comfortable and well worn. A stone fireplace stood against one wall. A large bookcase flanked the other, complete with dog-eared books. Some work boots sat on the tile by the front door. Only the flourish of silk flowers and the gilded family photos placed around the room let Elsie know that Kye’s mother had any part in the decorating.
Kye would probably be gone for awhile. After all, it took time to unsaddle a horse, brush it down, that sort of stuff. He undoubtedly wasn’t any more eager than she was to sit around and make small talk. She would most likely be here by herself for a half an hour. By that time, Kye would report that Frank was done feeding the cattle, and he would offer to drive her back to her car.
The worst was over.
Elsie texted her dad to let him know she’d been delayed, then wandered over to the bookcase to look at the titles. Most of them were nonfiction. Books about history. Biographies. Ranching. A few novels were scattered in with the rest. Lord of the Rings. Tom Clancy. They might have been Kye’s parents’ books. It was their house after all, but she knew Kye well enough to know most of the books were his. His parents weren’t the type to read biographies about Newton, Tesla, or Einstein. Kye had told the class about those men, though, used them as examples of the way math changed the world.
She saw the book Endurance, the story about Shackleton’s expedition to the Antarctic. Without thinking, she ran her hand along the spine. She had recommended that book to Kye. It surprised her to see it on his shelf. Next to it sat The Book Thief. She had told him that novel was one of her favorites. She dropped her hand away. She shouldn’t be surprised, really. Kye had rejected her, not her reading list.
“Good heavens! Who are you?”
Elsie spun around to see Mrs. McBride standing at the edge of the living room, hand pressed against her chest in alarm.
“Oh, sorry,” Elsie stuttered. “I didn’t know anyone was here. Kye told me to go inside. He’s putting his horse in his stable.” Her words fell from her mouth in an embarrassed jumble. She gestured toward the stables as though this would help her explanation make more sense.
Mrs. McBride dropped her hand from her chest. “Oh. Sorry to snap at you like that. You startled me, that’s all.” She smiled politely at Elsie now. “You’re Kye’s friend?”
Friend wasn’t the word Elsie would have used. Carson was Kye’s friend. Elsie was a bad memory. She wondered if Kye had told his parents about what happened between them. He probably had. Mrs. McBride had most likely shaken her head in a sad, understanding way about Elsie’s schoolgirl crush. Or worse, Mrs. McBride had become indignant that a trollop of a girl had tried to seduce her son.
Elsie forced a smile. “I’m Elsie Clark.” She tried to say her name as though she had nothing to hide. It still came out hesitant, unsure.
“You’ve come for the wedding?” Mrs. McBride said pleasantly. No flicker of pity or indignation went through her eyes. Maybe Kye hadn’t told his parents after all.
“Yes,” Elsie said, “I’m just here for a fast trip.”
The sound of a walker clunking into the room announced Mr. McBride’s arrival. “Who’s come for the wedding?” he asked. He was a big man with bright blue eyes that peered from a sun-worn face. His hands, gripping the walker, were scarred from years of ranch work.
“This is Elsie,” Mrs. McBride said. “She’s Kye’s friend.”
The word friend hit Elsie’s ears with the same tinny discordance it had the first time. Still, there was nothing to do but smile politely at Mr. McBride.
“Well,” he said, “you’re a good deal prettier than most of Kye’s friends. His taste must be improving.” He laughed at his joke, and it was a booming, friendly sound. His gaze swept around the room. “Where is Kye?”
“Out in the stables,” Elsie said. “He’ll be here soon.” She didn’t want to say why she was here and wondered how much explanation was required. You see, your cattle trapped me in a standing stampede . . .
“So what do you do?” Mrs. McBride asked, still smiling politely at Elsie.
“I’m a student at UM. I’m studying business.” For the first time Elsie wondered if Kye’s parents recognized her. Certainly they knew who she was. She had told them her name. They’d sat in the same church every Sunday for years. They had dropped Kye off at her house and Carson had been over to theirs countless times. They were asking about her schooling to be gracious.
Mrs. McBride nodded at Elsie. “Are you staying for dinner? It’s nothing fancy. Just some soup, potato salad, and ham sandwiches.”
Elsie shook her head. “No, I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”
Elsie hadn’t realized Kye had come inside until she heard his voice behind her. “It’s no trouble. We eat dinner every night.”
Elsie turned to him, her mouth opened to protest.
“I insist,” he added in the tone he had used to tell the class to settle down and get to work.
What else could she do? Sit there and watch them eat? Stay in the living room and pretend they were all strangers? So she smiled, waited for Kye to put his coat in the closet, and then went with him into the kitchen.
It was ironic, Elsie thought as Mrs. McBride put a sandwich on her plate and poured her a bowl of tomato soup. When Elsie had been growing up, she’d glanced at the McBrides sitting in their pew and imagined this moment a dozen times: being invited over to dinner, Kye’s parents chatting happily to her as though she mattered. It was proof prayers were answered. Unfortunately, they weren’t answered promptly. Elsie had taken this dinner off her wish list three years ago.
After a few minutes of conversation, Mrs. McBride glanced between Kye and Elsie. “Tell me again—where did the two of you meet?”
Elsie stiffened, mid bite. So it was every bit as bad as she’d feared. Kye’s parents didn’t recognize her. They thought she was dating Kye, that she was his equal, and now Elsie would be forced to listen while he set the record straight. This meal was about to take an awkward turn.
Kye stared blankly at his mother, and then seemed to understand her confusion. “This is Elsie Clark,” he said. “I’ve known her all my life.” He turned to Elsie. “Didn’t you tell them who you were?”
“Yes, of course I did.” The words came out more defensively than she’d intended. She didn’t want Kye to think she’d pretended there was something between them.
Mrs. McBride stared at Elsie in amazement. “Clark? I thought you said Parker. Good heavens.” The wrinkles at her eyes deepened as she laughed at
her own mistake. “You’re little Eloise Clark? It can’t be.” She shook her head. “When I saw you there in the living room, I assumed you were Kye’s date for the wedding.”
“An easy mistake,” Kye said evenly, “except I told you my date’s name was Lisa and she doesn’t get to Lark Field until tomorrow night.”
Mrs. McBride ignored her son. “Look at you,” she went on cooing at Elsie. “You’ve grown up into such a pretty girl.”
“She has always been a pretty girl,” Kye said, stirring his soup in a matter of fact way. “You just never noticed before.”
Well, that made it a family trait they shared, since Kye had never looked twice at her either. Elsie wondered what Lisa looked like and how serious they were.
Elsie stirred her own soup, her gaze locked on Kye’s for the first time since she’d sat down at the table. “You don’t remember how we met, do you?” She asked the question to prove what she already knew—that despite Kye’s polite attention now, things weren’t any different between the two of them.
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Well, since we’ve both lived in Lark Field all our lives, I assume we met when you were a baby and I was six years old. My mother probably stopped yours in the hallway at church to congratulate her on your arrival.”
“That sort of meeting doesn’t count,” Elsie said.
“Then no, I don’t remember.”
Proof positive, and a reminder to Elsie that her crush had always been one-sided and she didn’t need to rekindle it now.
“Well,” Kye said, prodding her. “How did we meet?”
Elsie took a sip of her soup. It was thick and spicy, warm with cheese and comfort—which were sometimes indistinguishable from one another. “As long as you don’t remember, I can say anything, can’t I? I saved you from a burning building, and it’s quite ungracious of you to forget about it.”
Kye’s lips quirked in a familiar way. “No, I’m sure I would remember that.”
“Think harder . . . the smoke, the heat, the flames licking around you.”
He took a casual sip of his water. “I believe what you’re actually describing is Hell. I’ve been there several times but don’t recall ever seeing you there.”
A Longtime -And at One Point Illegal- Crush Page 4
