by KC Klein
Hence, the euphemisms of Monday-through-Friday, bowed-ship, and shut-the-front-door. God, that woman had more power from beyond the grave than she had when she was alive.
Use the gifts God gave you, Sunshine.
Gee, thanks, Mom. Another jeweled piece of advice that got her nowhere. ’Course, she would’ve appreciated if God had given her a little less ability to do calculus and a little more green in the bank. Instead, her only two assets worth a damn were her ability to play pool and a pair of strong, long legs. But maybe her mother had a point. Even a broken clock was right twice a day.
God had given her two assets for a reason. If one failed her, then it was time to use the other.
She picked up her drink, and, swirling the amber liquid in the glass, she made a move toward her mouth. But instead of wetting her lips, she tossed the contents in Bandanna-man’s face. And ran for hell.
Chapter 7
Katie’s hand trembled as she ran the currycomb over Fat Albert’s withers, the repetitive motion soothing her as much as the horse. Katie needed to be here at the stables, needed to be in a place where she had some measure of control, unlike when she’d paced the gray halls of the hospital earlier.
Your father’s surgery didn’t go as well as hoped.
The horse shook his head and stomped a foot, but otherwise stayed in place. Fat Albert was just that, fat and a bit on the lazy side, which was why she chose him. She wasn’t up for a fight.
Were the stables chilly or was it just her? Her icy fingers were so numb she could barely grasp the brush.
The currycomb grew heavy, and she needed both hands to raise it to the old horse’s rangy mane. Exhaustion broke over her, and instead of stroking through, she leaned against the gelding to keep herself upright.
We had to restart his heart three times before he stabilized.
She drew the back of her hand across her forehead—slow, shaky. She couldn’t believe she was sweating. Would she ever be warm again?
He’s in critical condition. We can be more optimistic if he makes it through the night.
Somewhere deep in her gut a scream was born. She pressed her mouth to her arm, muffling any sound, and broke with a silent sob instead.
She shuddered. Her arms shook, her legs weakened. The thought of crumpling into a motionless heap had never seemed more inviting.
The door of the stables banged open. Katie quickly straightened and dashed the wetness off her cheeks. She twisted her fingers in Fat Albert’s mane, nails pinching into her palms to keep her focus.
“Were you going to tell me he almost died on the table?” Cole’s voice had the bite of winter’s wind. “Or was I just supposed to find out at the funeral?”
Yeah, he was angry. She could feel him seething behind her, but she couldn’t face him. She was too weak, too ultra-sensitive to fight with him. If she made a move, if she turned, she would fall into the arms of the one person who loved Pa as much as she did. The temptation made her mouth water, but she bit her tongue instead.
She’d lose. She always did with Cole. She’d fought long and hard to cut him out of her heart, and now she’d never be able to look herself in the mirror if she crawled back. Instead, she leaned her cheek against Fat Albert’s shoulder and breathed deep.
“I should’ve been there.” Cole spoke as if he fought to keep his voice from breaking. “I have just as much right to be with him as you do.”
And he did. He had every reason to be there. If anyone was a son to Pa, it was Cole. Unlike her, he had never left.
“If he had died, and I didn’t get to say good-bye,” he said in a rough whisper, “I don’t think I could’ve forgiven you.”
And she’d have never forgiven herself. It only made it worse that her own weakness was what had kept her from calling Cole.
She needed him to leave. She was small and broken, and more than a little shamed, but pride kept her knees locked. Cole had witnessed her shattered before; he wouldn’t again. “Only family members are allowed to visit.”
Katie felt as much as heard Cole’s sharp intake of breath. She squeezed her eyes shut, and wished she could block her ears as easily.
“Damn you, Katie. You don’t care who you hurt in the process, just as long as you feel vindicated. Well, screw you. I’m done making apologies.”
Had he ever apologized? She remembered being eighteen and wanting nothing more than a whisper of remorse from Cole. But it had never come. He had let her walk out the door and out of his life.
Something raw, dark, animal-like throbbed in her brain. Pa was the only family she had left, and Cole hadn’t kept him safe. She hurt. Cole needed to hurt. She whipped around and attacked. “What was Pa doing out here anyway? Why was he working when you knew, you knew, he had a bad heart? Was killing off your own father not enough? Did you have to take mine also?”
Cole’s face blanched of all color, and he staggered back like he’d taken a blow. He reached up and steadied himself on the stable wall. “Is that what you think?”
Cole headed toward the door. He didn’t wait for a response. Why should he? She knew she spoke the truth, or the only truth she was willing to accept. Katie watched his retreating form with a mixture of regret and longing.
Then Cole stopped and Katie’s stomach pitched. She watched him turn, then stalk her like a wild animal.
He pinned her without a touch; just the force of his gaze had her backing up flush against Fat Albert.
“No.” He shook his head, disgust etched in the line of his mouth. “You want to fling words around like they don’t hurt? Fine. Let’s have it out, Katie.”
“What do you mean?” But she knew and hadn’t meant to go there.
“It’s so easy to blame everyone else, huh? So easy to throw everything back in my face. And yeah, Katie, I have guilt, but let’s get this right. Who seduced who?” He captured her entire focus with a two-finger touch on her chin. “No, don’t shake your head and look at me with your I’m-so-innocent doll eyes. Bring it out in the open. Time to shame the devil and tell the truth—time to face up to what happened between us all those years ago.”
Senior year
Katie applied the thick charcoal eyeliner with a heavy hand, then added a second coat of mascara for good measure. The brown eyes that looked back at her from the bathroom mirror were exotic and smoky, years older than their current seventeen.
Tonight was Prom. Not that she could’ve cared less about the outdated, overrated, high-school rite of passage. But tonight was also the first Friday of the month, which meant Cole would be coming over to her house to talk business with Pa.
Her pa treated Cole like the son he’d never had, and in turn Cole had developed a deep respect for the man who had helped Cole through the years after his own father’s death. Not that Cole ever accepted much help. He took his responsibilities for his family and ranch seriously, having been made into a man the day his father died.
It was Pa who insisted that Cole come over for a decent meal and to talk horseflesh. They would discuss Cole’s future plans for the ranch and review business matters. Katie didn’t know all the details. Pa was a private man and always showed respect for others and their business, but it was common knowledge Cole’s father had recklessly thrown all the family savings into his dream of owning and breeding horses. When he’d died of a heart attack, he’d left the Logan family destitute, and no one but young Cole was left to pick up the slack. Katie had gleaned over the years that Pa had helped where he could. He’d even given Cole a loan to keep the family business afloat.
And usually business was the only thing that Cole was focused on, but not tonight. Not if Katie could help it. She outlined her upper lip with the precision of an artist. She followed the bow with a dusty pink, purposely accentuating the natural poutiness. She opened her mouth wide and filled in the rest of her nude lip with the “Sinfully Shiny” gloss. She checked the desired effect, and then air-kissed her reflection.
Poor Cole, he wouldn’t stand a chance.
>
Not that he had many chances. The years hadn’t been kind to Cole. His mother had never gotten over his father’s death and could barely summon the strength to take care of Cole and his sister, Nikki, much less herself. She gave up what little fight she had left after being diagnosed with breast cancer a while back, finally dying after a year of being bedridden.
Which had basically left Nikki and Cole to fend for themselves. And Cole had tried to be a good big brother, but something had happened to Nikki in those years of taking care of her mother. Nikki had fallen into the wrong crowd—pool halls, fast cars, and even faster boys. Katie could tell Cole was worried about his sister, but he had no clue when it came to Nikki. Katie couldn’t blame him—he was so much better with horses than he was with females.
Katie rechecked her hair for the third time, the only part of her appearance that concerned her. She’d planned on a sweeping elegant updo, going for a dignified and mature look, but after an hour she’d only achieved a messy French twist. A flutter of uncharacteristic nervousness tickled her belly. She shook her head. There was no time for second-guessing. The dark strands that fell and brushed her shoulders would have to suffice. Only a saint would have the patience to tame her hair, and she had even less than the average sinner.
She shrugged off her robe and stepped into her dress, enjoying the cool feel of silk as it shimmied up her body. Her fingers shook as she fumbled with the zipper. She dropped the tab, stretched her fingers, then tried again with success. The strapless black dress was a creation of bunched fabric that molded her newly formed curves. The skirt ended mid-thigh, but only after it cupped her derrière, toned and firm from years on horseback.
There was nothing like this dress at the local mall, which was stocked with shiny taffeta-polyester gowns, spun directly from little girls’ dreams of princesses and glamorous balls. She had found her dress online after pouring through fashion magazines for months, and duplicated the look of the gaunt, sophisticated models that graced the glossy pages. She was grown up now, and it was time others noticed it as well.
Things between Cole and her had changed. Katie still got up early to help with the unloading of hay, but now they were never alone. Cole had asked the ranch hands to come in earlier and had stopped bringing coffee to the stables. Cole’s respect for Pa would never let him cross a line with her, imaginary or not.
Katie was running out of time. Graduation was just around the corner, and she knew the summer would fly. Soon it would be time for her to head out of state to college. Her father had put away money for her since she was born so her tuition was already paid. It would take her four years to complete her undergraduate degree and then another four for vet school. Aside from a few school breaks here and there, she’d be gone for close to eight years. And that was too long for her to be away from Cole. He would be sure to have forgotten her by then, or worse, some other woman would have her claws in him before Katie could get back.
She wasn’t completely naïve. She didn’t expect marriage. She only wanted an inclination, some sort of commitment, so she could persuade her father to let her stay. Cole had to see her as a woman, not as a child, and then she was sure he would tell her he loved her. There were already signs. Small tells—the way his eyes traveled across her face when he saw her, the way he now avoided touching her, when before he’d greeted her with bear hugs and ponytail tugs. The way he would stand still whenever they were in the same room together.
Katie slipped toes freshly painted deep red into the slinky three-inch-heeled gold sandals. She loved the sleek elongated look her legs instantly achieved. This was an important night, one she had planned down to every detail.
The time for waiting for Cole to come to his senses was over. She’d already waited her whole life. Cole was going to step over that line, even if that meant she had to grab his shirt and pull him across.
Cole wiped the sweat from his brow. His body, still damp from his quick shower, had his last clean white tee sticking to him like paint on wood. He raked his fingers through his wet hair, trying for a quick air dry during the short walk from his home to the Harrises’. He’d checked the time before leaving. It was a quarter to six and he knew dinner was set on the table precisely on the hour.
Cole quickened his step, hating to be late, but couldn’t help sparing a glance at the distant horizon. The two adjoining properties were located at the edge of town, the last civilization before the endless expanse of land that stretched wide and gave a soul room to breathe. The sky mirrored the grassy terrain with its endless canvas of blue, until both met in a bold demarcation separating heaven from earth, mortal from spirit. He didn’t give much thought to his dead parents, simply because there wasn’t a lot of time in the day to dwell on the past. But sometimes, in these moments, Cole wondered if his dad were still alive whether he’d be proud of Cole’s accomplishments or simply disappointed in the leaky roof on the barn. Cole supposed there was never an easy age to lose a father, but sixteen had been particularly tough. He’d been at the age when he’d questioned his father, when he’d wanted to establish his own identity apart from his old man’s. Looking back, Cole wished they’d had the time to grow past that, to get to an easy place between father and son.
Cole mentally shook off his melancholy. Feeling sorry for oneself took energy, and he had little enough energy to spare. His long gait quickly ate up the distance from his gravel drive to the Harrises’ grassy lawn. Cole held up his hand to block the sun as it shot the last fading rays between the leaves of the oaks that lined the western arena. Other than when he left his hat at home, like tonight, he never thought much about his attire. Clothes were practical—hat to keep the sun off, boots to keep the manure out. But in honor of his dinner plans, he’d put on his best black boots, not much different from his work boots, just less crap on the bottom.
Cole approached the freshly painted white wraparound porch with a grin. James Harris stood on the front porch like a ruler surveying his kingdom. A vintage lizard skin boot with a pointed toe and fancy hand stitching rested on the lower wooden rail. A crisp, white, button-down shirt, straining against a significant paunch, was tucked into an overly large belt buckle that shouted Texas louder than any tricolored flag with a lone star.
“Sir,” Cole said, in the way of a greeting.
James tipped back the white Stetson that pretty much always graced his thinning hair and stretched his lips into what some considered his smile. The cigar that was pinched between stained straight teeth did little to take away from features that at one time would’ve been considered handsome. The sun, time, and stress had all taken their toll, but nothing could dull the keen perceptiveness of James Harris’s brown eyes.
He was a shrewd businessman who’d made his money by driving hard bargains, and selling and trading horseflesh. He’d gotten his start as a large animal veterinarian, but could’ve retired long ago on the money he’d acquired over the years of horse breeding and racing. James Harris was a widower, and remained so by choice. His wife had died when Katie was just a baby, but he seemed content with his few passing girlfriends and raising his daughter alone.
“Son.” James nodded in acknowledgment. “How’re you doing this fine evening?”
Cole smiled at the greeting. “I’d guess a mite better than you, considering you’re having your dessert cigar before even sitting down for dinner.”
James rolled his cigar, made small by meaty fingers, then snubbed it into the terracotta pot-turned-ashtray that was hidden behind the porch post. He made a slight clicking noise with his tongue and then stared back at Cole. “Katie’s going to Prom.”
Cole nodded, not sure what response the older man wanted. Cole had tried to raise his younger sister after his mom had died, but he hadn’t been much older than she, and Nikki had mostly raised herself. Cole couldn’t remember ever thinking “Prom” and “Nikki” in the same thought, and he sure as hell hadn’t gone to his own. But with a vague mental picture of Katie in a ponytail, white dress, and black sho
es, clasped with small bows, he wasn’t sure what James was worried about.
“You don’t seem to be grasping the implications here,” James said, his eyes darkening. “You know what they say about Prom, don’t you? More virginities are lost on Prom night than any other time of year.”
Cole scraped the bottom of his boot on the step. The words “Katie” and “virginity” were not something he liked to put together in the same sentence. He glanced up at James. The older man seemed to be waiting for a response. “Well, Katie’s a good girl. She’ll make the right choice.”
Silence. James Harris had a way of making certain natural lulls in the conversation uncomfortable. He could make the simple act of breathing seem loud and awkward. Cole knew the technique. He’d seen James wield his magic to coerce a business associate into conceding a bit more than they’d wanted to give. For the first time, Cole felt a twinge of sympathy for the man on the other side of James’s handshake.
Cole gave the wood step a halfhearted kick. A muscle in his neck twitched. He guessed he could understand James being anxious. Katie did have her head on straight, but she was fearless just the same. Which, at times, had both men contemplating putting her under lock and key.
James was a good father, and Cole was confident James had taken care of that talk. But Cole wasn’t above throwing his two cents in. As far as he was concerned, Katie could always use a reminder to be smart and not rush into anything. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his eyes. Yeah, asking Katie to slow down was like telling a racehorse not to run.
“It’s tonight,” James growled. “Her date is picking her up in”—he checked his watch—“ten minutes, if the fool shows up at all.”
Cole nodded again, wanting nothing more than to get off the current topic. This time James took pity on him, and the silence between the two men was easy.
The afternoon had cooled and a slight breeze previewed the coming night. A foreign clicking noise floated past the screen door and both men turned their heads for a better view. But Cole knew that sound—his stomach tightened. He automatically associated the delicate click of heels with swaying hips, short skirts, and much-hoped-for sex. Nothing that should’ve had anything to do with Katie.
