by KC Klein
That was hours ago, and he’d spent more than his fair share of the night tracing that tattoo—with his finger, with his lips, with his tongue. But damn it, he should really know her name by now. The endearments of “baby,” “pretty girl,” and “sweetie” were sure to wear thin by morning.
The dog barked again. Time to go. Luckily he had experience with this type of thing. He slid out of bed, and grabbed his clothes, boots, and phone on the way out. The secret to a clean exit was to forgo all modesty. He was not above walking to his truck butt naked and finishing getting dressed inside the cab. Though he had to be careful in the winter; cold mornings were not kind, and he had a reputation to protect.
He closed the front door with a soft click and cursed slightly at the sharp stones beneath his bare feet. The road to hell wasn’t paved with good intentions . . . but the cinders that were on just about every damn driveway in Texas.
Jett got into his truck and wrestled into his jeans. He was down the road, boots on, in thirty seconds flat—a new record even for him. Maybe he wouldn’t have to expend the energy to find out girl-with-crazy-tattoo’s name. A getaway maneuver like this would probably solve that dilemma.
Jett drove to the nearest coffee shop, put his truck in park, and finished buttoning up his shirt. The digital clock said it was five in the morning. Benny would’ve just put on the first pot of coffee, so he might as well wait in the warmth of his cab until it was done.
He grabbed his cell. He was used to his phone blowing up at all hours of the night; such was the burden of an active social life. But usually things quieted down once people began sleeping off what had gotten them into trouble the night before. There was only one person he had regular contact with who actually chose to meet the day at dawn instead of partying their way to seeing the sunrise. He touched the screen, not at all surprised to find that the text was from Cole.
Jett had known Cole since grade school, and where Jett had learned that words could persuade, pursue, and excite, Cole had grown an aversion to them. But the man of few words sure knew how to use them efficiently. Because in only two, the bottom of Jett’s stomach dropped out—Katie’s home.
Jett groaned and dropped his forehead to the steering wheel. Things between Katie and Cole were always messy. Hell, anything to do with the Logans was messy. He had to hand it to Katie. At least she’d had the smarts to leave. Run away maybe, but the Logans were brutal on the ones they loved. He should know. He’d had every opportunity to leave, make a life anywhere in the world, and here he had set up house in a small cowpoke town just because of one stubborn Logan, and one foolish promise he’d made to a girl when he’d still been young and stupid.
Maybe Katie would leave town again, maybe Cole wouldn’t spiral back into that dark place . . . yeah, and maybe Jett would smarten up and realize that there were plenty of girls-with-crazy-tattoos and life was too precious for him to waste his time on the stubborn ones.
As tired as Katie was, she wouldn’t have thought the old habit of waking up at dawn would have kicked in. No such luck. At the first sliver of light Katie’s eyes popped open, heart beating with anticipation.
But for what? The stables? Cole? No, that was all in the past. The anxiety that had had her tossing and turning most of the night must be worry over her father.
Rolling over, she grabbed her phone off the nightstand and touched the screen to dial the nurses’ station number she’d programmed in earlier. A quick conversation with a curt nurse revealed her father had slept peacefully through the night, no changes. She disconnected, flopped onto her back, and stared at the yellowing popcorn ceiling. When she was younger she’d imagined pictures in the differing shades of off-white—a rearing stallion, a woman’s profile. But since coming home, some of the magic of girlhood had faded and now the ceiling just looked dirty.
Katie sighed, and giving sleep up as lost, she stumbled out of bed. She dressed and did her teeth and hair, her actions so routine it wasn’t until she was crossing her yard toward the stables that she realized where she was heading. But for what? Star, her horse, had been sold when she left for college, and Cole had been doing fine without her help for years now.
Not ready for the memories the stable would bring, Katie redirected her steps. She ended up at a large fenced-off area where the pastured horses were kept. Katie leaned against the peeling fence post and watched the sky lighten to dark blue, navy, and then finally fade into degrees of violet. How many times had she walked under this wide sky, the stars as her night-light, the breeze through the cypress trees her lullaby? New York had been different, colder . . . smaller.
The brush of boots on the tall winter grass broke the silence. Katie didn’t bother turning around. No need really when the spider-tickles floating up her spine made her more aware than she wanted to be. She sighed, too tired to be angry anymore, and too tired to fight what her body had always known—Cole.
“I thought I’d find you here. You never could keep away.” The sense of homecoming in his voice had her closing her eyes and breathing deep. She was glad her back was to him. Cole walked up beside her. “You know, no one has ridden her since you.”
That got her attention. She turned and threw him a questioning look. In answer, Cole nodded his head toward the pasture. She had approached the meadow in the dark, and had only given the shadowed horse figures in the distance a cursory glance, but now . . . “Sweet Thing?”
But she already knew. Her horse. The red of Sweet Thing’s coat was diminished by a layer of mud, her flaxen mane tangled and wind-swept along her neck. Beside her was a foal, darker but with the same blond mane in a short baby tuft.
“She foaled?” Katie strained against the fence, the top rail biting into her stomach. Her hand rubbed at the sore spot in her chest as if some ragged rip inside had begun to knit together.
“Yes.” Cole moved closer to put his foot on the fence. If Katie shifted her weight their shoulders would touch. She willed herself motionless. “Two pregnancies seem to have settled her. She’s much calmer now.”
Katie nodded and waited. She didn’t want to know, loathed breaking their tentative peace, but she had to ask. “And her first?” she whispered.
From the corner of her eye she watched Cole scrape his hand across his darkened cheek, a gesture he made when he was uncomfortable. “Stillborn.”
Disgust coated her mouth like vomit. She barely kept herself from spitting. “And you still bred her again.”
“Christ, Katie, I know what your opinion is of me, but cut me some slack. You’ve lived next door to me your whole life, and yet you judge me on only one moment.”
Katie couldn’t look at him. Conflicting images ran through her mind. How, as a child, he’d picked her up when she’d fallen and had blown on her scraped knees. How, whenever she was in trouble, she could count on him. And then there was another time, another flash of memory that had destroyed a young girl’s trust.
“I didn’t have the heart,” he said. “We turned her out to pasture, and well, she went wild. She seemed to do better the less we messed with her. It got to the point, unless there was a real bad storm coming, we just left her out. There were other horses in the pasture, so she wasn’t alone. About a year ago we noticed she was carrying. I don’t know who the sire was, but this time it was her decision.”
Cole shifted so Katie would have to look at him, his gaze direct and unwavering. “Katie, this time she got to choose.”
She nodded and ran a hand through her hair to hide the fact she was close to tears.
Cole pulled out an apple, shiny and red. It glowed in his palm like the witch’s offer to Snow White.
“Do you think you still have it?” Cole asked, with his perfect lopsided smile, and the promise of a dimple high on his cheek.
Katie pushed away from the fence, unable to pretend that his presence didn’t affect her. It would be so easy, too easy to forgive and forget, to fall back into old patterns.
Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice . . . No.<
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She snatched the apple out of his hand and walked farther down the fence line. She needed to be alone, couldn’t have Cole’s presence fogging up her mind. Katie slipped between the two wood rails and slowed her steps to half measure. She got as close to Sweet Thing as she dared. Then took a breath and waited.
Moments passed as mother and baby grazed alongside each other. Sweet Thing was in constant communication with her baby—a flick of tail, a whinny of warning, reassuring nuzzles. Then as if by some higher knowledge, Sweet Thing’s head popped up.
Large brown eyes caught hers. Katie’s legs weakened until she was on her knees. The mare raised her head and called to her baby. Then with a flick of her tail, she turned, and Katie watched, as they both ran off into the pasture.
Katie let her arm fall, the apple slipping from her numb fingers. And for a moment, she got lost between the now and the hundreds of times in the past, when she’d sat in the dirt—with a bribe in her hand and her heart in her throat.
Chapter 4
Senior year
It was damn hot. The air was already thick and stale, and lazy as a rented mule. If a wisp of breeze could have found its way to the far stall, Katie would’ve wept. As it was she was pretty darn close already. A person couldn’t sink much further than sitting in the dirt—and Lord knows what else—rolling apples under a gate, trying to entice a pissed-off horse.
Sweet Thing had feed in front of her at all times. Now, after three months, she actually looked like the true blood quarter horse Jett had promised, which meant Katie had been right: Sweet Thing was beautiful. The mare’s coat had turned a deep red sorrel, and her chest had filled out, showing off wide shoulders.
Though the mare looked better, it didn’t mean she acted better. Katie had come every day with gifts of food, yet made little headway. No matter who walked up, the horse reared back and then cowered into the shadows of the stall. At least now, Sweet Thing would eat what Katie brought, but only if she stayed a safe distance away—thus the rolling of the apples.
Her last apple gone, Katie stood and brushed off her backside. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward and narrowed the distance between her and the mare. Sweet Thing’s head shot up, and her nose sniffed the air for danger. Katie drew closer and rested her arms on the wooden gate. She watched the horse stomp her hooves and whip around her flaxen mane, but this time no teeth were bared. Progress.
Katie wiped her face with the back of one hand, both of which were filthy from mucking out Star’s stable and giving her a much needed bath. She brushed the stray straw off her bare legs. Yes, shorts and cowboy boots were not dress code, or even fashionably acceptable, but Cole wasn’t here. And if truth be told, she was itching for a fight. Cole barely said boo to her these days.
In retrospect, the whole white shirt incident might’ve been a mistake.
The front door banged against the barn wall. Boots sounded confidently on cinders, and Katie’s breath hitched in her chest.
“What are you doing here?” Cole snapped.
Katie smiled, couldn’t help it. She loved the gruffness of his voice. “Half-day, teacher conferences. Thought I’d get a jump on mucking out the stall, but I didn’t count on it getting so hot.”
“Yeah.” Cole’s voice softened as he lifted his hat and swiped at his dark hair before resettling it. “Unseasonably warm for May.”
She nodded, suddenly preoccupied with how crazy her hair must’ve gotten in the humidity. She quickly hoped for semi-tame, and then tucked wayward strands behind her ear.
The corner of Cole’s mouth tilted up, but to Katie that wasn’t the best part of his smile. No, Cole’s true smile wasn’t just a turn of his lips, but more of a softening in his eyes, an easing of stress and fatigue. “Hey, I’m heading into town, gotta pick up some things from the store. Wanna come?”
“Like this?” Katie glanced down and groaned inwardly at the mud caked to one calf. Then noticed her nails; black rimmed with dirt, jagged and broken.
His eyes twinkled as he leaned against the stall, apparently in no hurry. “You wouldn’t have gotten so dirty if you wore jeans.”
Katie sighed, all of a sudden not wanting to fight. It had been too long since they had just talked, just been easy with one another.
Cole must’ve thought so too, since he shook his head and closed his eyes for a brief moment. “Never mind, I don’t want to hear it. Come on, I need someone to push-start the truck anyway.”
He seemed so casual, with one boot crossed in front of the other, a slightly damp T-shirt smoothed across his chest. And this was what she missed. Things between them had been tense, not quite right. But now, here, as Cole slung one thumb through a stretched-out belt loop, Katie could almost believe those heartbreaking moments were all in the past.
“Sure, if I can charge you time and a half for hard labor. Oh, but that’s right, I’m not even on your payroll,” Katie said, mirroring his stance.
“Ha, you’re hilarious. Fine, you start it and I’ll push, but I’m driving. I’m not listening to your music all the way into town.”
They had a rule, the driver controlled the radio, and nowadays Katie’s taste leaned more to the newer rock-infused country, while Cole gravitated toward the older, more classic country music. Katie rolled her eyes, then, in a bold move, stepped forward and slipped her hand into his front pocket. Her fingers brushed his bare thigh through a small hole in the lining, and for a half a second Katie lost her courage . . . and stilled.
His eyes widened. Her heart jumped. But Katie remembered herself, and played it off perfectly as she dangled the truck keys in front of his face. “Good, because I wouldn’t be caught dead driving that POS,” she said with a laugh and made a run for it before he could grab her in a headlock and give her a “noogie.”
Humid air blew like a furnace through the open windows. The truck was on the brink of overheating and turning on the AC would’ve pushed it over the edge, but at least the stereo still worked.
Katie kicked off her muddy boots and rested her bare feet against the dash. She reached over and turned down the volume.
“Hey, that was a good song,” Cole complained.
“You’ll survive, and no it wasn’t.” One could only take the sorrowful lyrics of sin and redemption from Johnny Cash for so long.
“What happened to the driver gets to control the radio?”
“I’m a guest, so it’s my call,” she said, with a perfected arch of her brow.
“Uh, interesting rules,” Cole said. “They seem to change depending on whatever seat your butt is occupying.”
Katie shrugged, effectively ignoring his jab. “Hush, I have a joke.”
As long as Katie remembered, she’d tried to get Cole to laugh. It had become something of a challenge. Every day or so Katie would tell him a joke. As the years passed, his humor got more jaded, and Katie spent more time looking up the latest comedians than studying for her entrance exams for college.
He groaned. “You can’t tell a joke.”
“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence. You’re probably the reason why I suffer from performance anxiety.”
“Performance anxiety, huh? And here I thought you liked being the center of attention.” Cole didn’t take his eyes off the road, but she caught the faintest hint of a dimple that appeared only when he was amused.
“Do you want to hear my joke, or what?”
“Yes, please.” But there was nothing polite about the way Cole said it.
“Okay, so what do men and parking spaces have in common?”
A heavy sigh. “What?”
“The good ones are always taken and the free ones are either very small or handicapped.” She laughed at her own joke, but then bit her lip and waited.
A chuckle. “That wasn’t funny.”
“Nope, you laughed. That counts.”
“That wasn’t a laugh, more like a cough.” But Cole was smiling as he pulled into an open parking space and cut the engine.
Katie let
it go. As far as she was concerned, it counted. She shoved her feet into her boots, and hopped out. They walked side by side toward the Sac and Save. Cole held the door open for her, and the AC hit with a roar of cold air. Sweat tickled and cooled the back of Katie’s neck. Picking up a small basket, she headed toward the produce department, but Cole stopped her with a tug on her arm.
“Nope, other way.”
Katie huffed. “You need salad.”
“I need beer and meat, woman,” Cole said in a mock caveman tone, but Katie’s heart skipped at his title of address. Maybe. Could it be?
“Cole? Cole, is that you?” A sugary voice cut the bustling noise of the market like a knife would a warm pecan bun.
Both turned. Katie gawked; Cole smiled.
“Well helllloooo, Sarah.”
At his tone, Katie sliced her gaze to Cole. It was as if his voice had taken a dive through a vat of honey and come out coated and sweet. His face softened and the fine lines around his eyes smoothed as if they’d never been.
Katie’s gaze swept to the woman standing in front of her. If those boobs were real, Katie would eat her boot. And yet, what did it matter? Katie, who’d waited two summers to fill out her bra, couldn’t compare to a woman who flaunted her melonlike breasts, among the other fruits and vegetables, in nothing more than a shoestring tank top.
Life sucked.
“Cole, I thought that was you. Where’ve you been?” Sarah said. Her voice was breathy and soft as if she’d just run the half mile to the store.
“Apparently not at the same places you’ve been.” Cole’s gaze did a thorough sweep from Sarah’s feet to her chest . . . and then stayed at her chest. “Lookin’ good, Sarah.”
And Sarah was, if you went for that sort of thing. Her hair fell past her shoulders in thick blond waves. Her waist looked incredibly tiny below her double D’s. Sarah’s denim-encased legs started somewhere underneath her armpits, and only finally ended in a pair of strappy-heeled sandals.
Of all the days to wear shorts and cowboy boots.
