Byron’s smile spread across his face. “I gotta give it to you. You’re a party animal. We didn’t get back to the ranch until… let’s see, it must have been ten o’clock at least.”
Her head snapped up. “Ten? That’s all? And we didn’t get to dance again.” She dropped into the recliner next to the woodstove and buried her head in her hands. “I made a fool of myself, didn’t I?”
“Nah.” Byron stuffed a couple more pieces of wood into the stove then went to the kitchen and dug a heavy cast iron pan from beneath the stove. “How do eggs sound?”
“I got drunk?” She couldn’t keep the question from her voice.
“You were fine until the second glass of Fireball. You don’t drink much, do you?” Byron lit the burner then pulled eggs, bacon and hash browns from the refrigerator.
She had made a fool of herself. “I don’t drink at all.”
Byron looked at her with a straight face, but she could see the smile in his eyes. “No kidding?”
“Sebastian and I were allowed to have a glass of wine with dinner once in a while. Father didn’t believe in using stimulants. I’ve tried several kinds of alcohol during my travels, but I never really liked the taste. I guess I didn’t handle it very well.” How would she face these people who’d taken her in and been so nice? “The first time I’m invited to a social function and I get drunk.”
Byron broke six eggs into a bowl and mixed them with a fork. He laid the bacon slices in one pan, and Vivi could hear the crack and sizzle as they hit the hot metal. “You weren’t drunk, you were tipsy. I thought it was time to come home, but when we got here, the house was locked.” After pouring the scrambled eggs into the other pan, he stirred them with a plastic spatula. “Hungry?”
They didn’t speak much as they ate, but when they’d finished, Vivi cleaned the table, and Byron poured them each another cup of coffee.
“Seems like you parents were against lots of things.” He sat down, took a sip and looked her in the eye. “Were they religious?”
How to explain her family. Through the years, she’d found it better to keep quiet about them or to change the subject. She’d begun to deflect when the truth came out instead. “Father was strict.” She stopped and pulled in a deep breath. “That’s an understatement.”
Byron studied his coffee and waited.
“He was always right. He knew it, and my mother knew it. There was no room in his family for mistakes.” She worked to drive off the memories that crept back in whenever she let down her guard. “We all learned early to do things his way.”
When she stopped speaking, Byron spoke, his voice quiet. “Did he hit you?”
Vivi jumped, startled and stared at him. “Oh, no. He wasn’t like that.” How did she explain that Father hadn’t needed to use violence? The mental control had been enough.
“So, what then?” Byron took her hand. “A person can be abusive without hitting.”
As much as she wanted to confide in someone—not Byron—and not today. She’d spent the last year working to convince herself she wasn’t crazy. She needed someone to tell her she’d done, was doing, the right thing, but she was too embarrassed to tell this man. His father was beyond controlling, but Byron had found the strength to leave. He hadn’t let a narcissist ruin his life.
“You don’t have to tell me, but if you want to talk about it, I might understand, and I promise I won’t judge.” He stood and refilled the cups.
She took a sip of the hot coffee, swallowed wrong and had a coughing fit. When she’d regained control, she looked him in the eye. “He never hit us. Just looking at him standing there, the I’m-in-control-here look on his face, was enough to make us toe the line.”
“Sounds like an asshole.” The grumbly sound of his voice caused her to giggle.
“He was an asshole. One of the best. He’s gone now, and I don’t feel bad about that at all. It does bother me that Sebastian never got out from under his control.” Her voice broke on the last few words and she stood, trying to smooth some of the wrinkles out of her dress. Like that made any difference.
Byron took her chin in his hand and lifted until she met his gaze. “This isn’t your fault.”
“I know, but I was the stronger twin. I should have protected him.”
“So you were supposed to protect your whole family from a man that had made it his life’s work to control you? Sounds like a lot for one person.” He wrapped his arms around her, and she worked hard to keep her tears in check. No one had ever seen her life that way before.
~-~
The rumble of a truck’s engine coming down the drive caught their attention. A delivery van with the logo of the shipping company Vivi had hired to send Micah’s sculpture was parked near the front porch. The driver stood talking to Cary.
Excitement and unease sparred with each other, making her stomach jump. Would Micah and Cary like her art or think it was a bunch of sticks? She turned to Byron, faking calm as best she could. “I can’t believe the shipping company sent the crate to East Hope, British Columbia instead of East Hope, Oregon. I was beginning to wonder if it would ever arrive.”
As if reading her mind, Byron smiled. “They’re going to love it.”
“How do you know? You haven’t seen it.”
“I’ve seen pictures, and I know you.”
Vivi looked at her dress, wrinkles making it obvious she’d slept in it. “I can’t go out like this. What will Cary think?”
“No one here cares if your dress is wrinkled or where you slept.” Byron pulled her across the driveway. “But go change if you need to, and I’ll see if the driver needs help.”
Vivi followed Byron to the truck. He was right. She didn’t owe an explanation to anyone.
“This is perfect timing,” Cary said as they approached. “Micah went to town for grain. We can get this set up before he gets back.”
“Can I help?” Willa’s high voice caught Byron’s attention. Her boots clattered against the worn wooden steps as she raced out of the house.
Byron took her hand. “Come on. You can be the boss.”
He watched as Vivi’s shoulders stiffened with tension. She chewed on her lip, and her fingers clenched together. “Are you okay?”
“I will be if Cary likes this.” She gave him a shaky grin as she followed the driver to the back of the truck.
“Let’s get it unloaded and find out.” In a few long strides, Byron was seated in the forklift and removed a huge crate from the truck. Cary asked him to position it on the grassy spot in the center of the circular drive.
Cary looked at Vivi. “You do the honors.”
Byron grabbed a crowbar from the forklift and eased the wooden top from the crate. He pried the sides apart, revealing a stunning life-sized longhorn steer, made out of willow sticks.
While Willa danced around the sculpture with oohs and ahhs, Byron circled Vivi’s handiwork. She’d told him she made things from sticks, but he hadn’t expected this.
Vivi ran her hands over the sculpture until she was satisfied no damage had been done during the shipping. Her gaze when she faced Cary was filled with worry.
“This is so cool,” Willa said, her voice high with excitement. “This is cooler than when Taylor Barker’s mom made a whole set of dishes from wood.”
That brought Cary to life. “Vivi, I knew it was going to be great, but the pictures didn’t do it justice. This is amazing. You’re amazing.” Cary gave Vivi a hug. “I can’t wait for Micah to get home now. This is going to blow him away.”
It for sure blew Byron away. Who knew you could make statues from sticks? “You really made this?”
“Yeah. This is what I do.”
Byron walked around the beast, knelt and looked underneath then studied the head. The proportions were exact, the workmanship precise. “I can’t believe it.”
“I can!” Willa said. “But how are we going to keep Rodie off of it. He already wants to be a bull rider.” She reached up and stroked the fine twigs
that made up the steer’s nose. “It’s so real it makes me want to find it some hay.”
Vivi’s musical laugh caught his attention. Pride had replaced her apprehension. “That’s the best thing about my animals. You don’t have to feed them.”
They heard the engine of Micah’s truck just before it turned into the drive. Cary picked up the nearest side of the box and held it up to hide the present. “I can’t wait to see his face.”
Micah climbed out of the truck then grabbed Rodie around the waist and carried him to the group. “What’s this?”
Rodie wiggled until his father put him down then ran to look behind the piece of wood Cary was holding up. “Pa, it’s a cow.”
Cary dragged the piece back so Micah could see. “Happy Birthday, honey.”
“My birthday was a month ago.” Micah came closer, and Byron noticed Vivi chewing on a fingernail.
“I know, but I didn’t order it in time for Vivi to get done. Better late than never.” Cary took her husband’s arm. “Do you like it?”
Byron could see the same question reflected in Vivi’s eyes, deep green pools swimming with unease.
“This is really something,” Micah said, still looking at the steer.
“But do you like it?” The small quaver in Vivi’s voice gave away her apprehension.
Micah turned to Vivi. “I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s good.”
Vivi reached out and laid her hand on the statue’s rump. She stared for a moment then raised her gaze to Cary’s.
Cary put her arm through her husband’s. “Micah’s a man of few words but that means he likes it.”
Vivi almost melted with relief, and Byron couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and taking her hand.
She leaned against him, her voice barely discernable. “My father would have hated it.”
~-~
Lester Charters opened the email from Viola Beckett with some trepidation. In the years since her father had died, he’d only gotten one email from the young woman. And that was to tell him where to send her mail while she traveled across the country.
He’d had total control during the dark time when she’d cared for her incapacitated her father. She’d never cared much about the money. When Beckett died, she’d escaped from the family home and told him to do what he’d thought best with the fortune.
That was just the way he liked it.
He clicked on the email.
Dear Mr. Charters,
I just wanted to give you a heads up on an idea I have been playing with for a while. I want to open an art studio somewhere out west. I’m going to look around for a suitable site. Sisters, Oregon looks nice, as well as Sun Valley, Idaho and Leavenworth, Washington. They’re all tourist towns and might be a good location. Nothing is set in stone yet, but I didn’t want to catch you by surprise.
All the best,
Viola Beckett
He did a quick search of Sisters, Oregon and property prices. Then he looked at Sun Valley and Leavenworth. This crazy idea of hers wouldn’t do at all.
He took his time before writing her back.
Dear Viola,
It is so nice to hear from you. I’m glad you’re having a good time with your hobby, and it’s nice to see you making plans to move on with your life. With the market like it is, now would not be the optimal time to pull money out of your mutual funds. My advice is to keep looking, but plan on waiting another year or so.
There’s no use rushing into things after all.
I’ll contact you as soon as I feel it’s the best time to move funds from the market to real estate.
Take care,
Lester Charters
He hit send and sat back feeling better. Viola had never refused to take his advice before and he was sure she’d do as he advised now. All he needed was a few more months to repay some investors. Money he’d needed to keep him solvent and money she’d never miss.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Byron looked up from saddling the colt to marvel at Vivi’s steer. He was still in awe. How did someone look at sticks and envision an animal, or anything other than a stick?
He had one of the sorrel colts saddled and in the round pen when Vivi called out to him across the yard. “I’m feeling very confident on Worry. Can we ride down the driveway today?”
Over the course of the two weeks since her Willow Art creation had been delivered, Vivi had begged Byron to go riding outside of the arena nearly every day.
He smiled to himself, but schooled his face when he turned to face her. “I don’t know if you’re ready yet.”
With a sigh big enough to turn a windmill, Vivi caught Worry and ran his lead rope through the tie ring. She brushed him down and saddled him. Byron watched, but she was careful and didn’t make a mistake. She led the gelding to the arena and swung the gate open.
Byron followed her, admiring the way her Wranglers molded to her butt. As she checked her cinch one last time and started to mount, he cleared his throat. “I need to check on some heifers in the south pasture. Want to come along?”
Vivi turned with a squeal and hurried over to him. “You mean it?” When he nodded, she pulled him into a hug. “Thanks, Byron.”
He no longer needed to help her mount and was kind of sorry for that. He’d have to find another way to help her do things. A thought occurred to him that made him smile. A little kiss couldn’t hurt anything, could it? She had slept at his house after all.
He put that thought away for another day. When it came right down to it, he was a bit afraid to move this relationship or whatever it was to a more serious level.
Byron swung the gate open and let Vivi ride through. The horses picked their way down to the creek bed. It ran full all summer with runoff from irrigating, but was dry as a bone this time of year.
Clouds threw shadows across the ground and kept a nip in the air. Leafless trees stretched their branches to the sky and a murder of crows scolded them for invading their territory.
“How much land does Micah own?”
“As far as you can see. It will take us over four hours to ride this pasture.” He gestured with his arm. “And this is just the winter holding pen for this bunch.”
She nodded, apparently speechless. Pulling out her phone, she snapped pictures as they rode.
They’d been riding for over an hour, and Vivi had taken at least a hundred photos when she looked at her phone. “When did we lose phone service?”
“About a quarter mile from the house.”
“What happens if someone gets hurt out here? Can you call for help?” The worry in her eyes had him wanting to comfort her.
“I make sure someone always knows where we’re going and when we’re expected back.” He punched her arm lightly. “If I get hurt, you can ride to the top of that hill and use your phone.” He pointed to a hill a few miles away.
“Clear over there?” She chewed her lip. “Please don’t get hurt.”
“I’m not going to get hurt. I do this for a living. I’m a professional.” Byron chuckled at her concern. His dad used to be worried as hell he’d get hurt playing football, but only because he’d be out of the game. He wasn’t used to someone caring what happened to him if it didn’t get them something.
“Promise?”
“Promise.” They rode in silence for a while enjoying the views and the meadowlark’s songs. Vivi’s concern confused him on one hand and pleased him on the other, and he had to control the smile that wanted to spread across his face.
“I know you’re from Texas, but not much else. Where did you go to college?” Vivi was relaxed and rode with her reins held loosely.
“What makes you think I went to college? What makes you think I even graduated high school? I’m just a ranch hand.” He wasn’t sure he wanted to get into his past, but it seemed when Vivi asked he always said more than he’d intended.
She snorted. “Give me a break. You’re one of the most intelligent people I’ve ever met, and let me tell you, I’ve
been around smart people all my life.”
When he just stared at her, she continued. “They were all intelligent, but some of them didn’t have common sense enough to pour water out of a boot.” Her smile brightened her face, and she gave a soft laugh.
“Pour water out of a boot? Where’d you hear that expression? That an old Massachusetts saying?”
Her smile widened. “I googled it. When I decided to come west, I googled lots of western saying so I’d fit in and don’t change the subject.” She shifted in her saddle and turned part way to stare at him. “College?”
“I went to Penn State.” Byron settled his gaze on the group of cows in the distance. They were the first calf heifers due to calve in November. He made a quick count to make sure they were all there. Satisfied, he turned back to Vivi. “Any more questions?”
“What did you study?”
Vivi’s green down coat intensified the color of her eyes. She was smart, sweet, and pretty, and she scared the crap out of him. He jerked his gaze back to the cattle. Quit mooning over her and answer the question. “Football with a minor in business management and math.”
“My brother loved math.” The words were almost a whisper as she stared off into the distance. When she turned her attention back to him, the usual humor was gone from her gaze. “I studied Physics, and Sebastian was a mathematics genius. I’ve never been to a football game. Father didn’t think it was worth the time. I have watched some on TV, but I can’t tell what they’re doing. Is there a game around here we could watch?”
He hadn’t been to a football game since the day he’d quit college, but he’d heard Micah talk about the local high school. “East Hope High School has an eight man team. They play the other small towns around here. Micah would know when they play again.”
The smile that had disappeared when she’d been lost in thought came back with a bang. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d love to see one.”
Cowboy's Sweetheart (Sugar Coated Cowboys Book 3) Page 6
