by Jill Kemerer
No one is perfect. As much as she tried to drown out Eden’s words from earlier, they kept repeating in her head.
What Dylan had done went beyond not perfect, though. Didn’t Eden get it? And her whole grace suggestion—Gabby shook her head. No way. He didn’t deserve it.
She kissed her index finger and gently touched Phoebe’s forehead with it before heading to the living room. After dragging a soft blanket out of the closet, she settled on the couch, draping it across her legs.
Some offenses were too big to forgive.
Hiking the blanket to her chin, she recounted why she’d been right to cut ties with her dad and with Carl. And now with Dylan.
They’d put their own selfish needs above hers. She’d never asked for much. She hadn’t held it against her dad when she and Allison had gone hungry and woken up during the winter months to see their own breath. She hadn’t minded helping Carl out financially because she’d loved him. She’d loved both Dad and Carl, and she’d believed they’d loved her, too.
And Dylan... She’d opened up to him, shared the baby with him, introduced him to her friends...
He’d abused her trust.
The same as her father. The same as Carl.
What he did wasn’t as bad as Daddy or Carl.
Where had that thought come from? Of course, it was as bad.
I judged him the day he came to Rendezvous. I’m judging him now.
It hadn’t been judging... It had been forming an impression. And she had every right to judge him now.
She would never do to him what he’d done to her. She wouldn’t have lied to him about anything. She was honest.
No one is perfect.
The secret shame she’d pushed deep inside threatened to burst out of her. She might not have lied to Dylan, but she’d been lying to herself for years.
Why couldn’t she get real with herself about Carl? The signs had been there and she’d ignored them. Finding out he was married wasn’t as big a shock as she pretended it was.
Her lungs tightened as if she’d been punched.
I demand the truth, but if I value it so much, I need to be honest with myself.
She swung her legs over the couch then buried her face in her hands. It was true—she’d suspected Carl was married but hadn’t wanted to believe it. The clues had been there—the odd hours they’d meet and his reluctance to spend time together out in public. One time she’d actually caught him taking off his ring and slipping it inside his pocket, and she’d never said a word.
I’m not perfect. Eden’s right. No one is.
All the Tuesdays for the past couple of years with her friends came to mind. They prayed for each other and read from the Bible and supported each other. And it made her feel so virtuous. But she was a hypocrite. The biggest hypocrite imaginable.
She wasn’t perfect. Never had been. Never would be.
Lord, forgive me for expecting perfection and not extending grace. I’m not perfect, and yet, You give me grace all the time.
It was time for her to forgive her father and Carl.
Lord, I forgive Carl. I don’t like him or ever want to see him again, but I forgive him. And I forgive my dad. Please give me peace about them.
It hit her that forgiveness didn’t always mean reconciliation, nor did it make her a doormat.
Maybe the real reason she didn’t want to forgive Dylan was out of fear.
If she forgave him, allowed him back into her heart, he might hurt her again. She might wake up in a few months and realize she’d been right all along that he’d never cared about her the way she did him.
But if she didn’t forgive...would she expect every man who came into her life to live up to a set of standards no one could reach?
The ticktock of the clock kept her company as she struggled with how to move forward.
He’d said he was the same guy who’d arrived a month ago, but could she believe him?
She didn’t know.
Every man she’d let into the most special place in her heart had let her down. And now that she’d fallen for Dylan, she couldn’t get the image of them together out of her mind. For years she’d wanted it all but had refused to admit it. She wanted a loving husband, a family of her own.
Gabby rubbed her temple. She didn’t even know what a loving husband looked like.
She’d thought he looked like Dylan, but now? She had no clue.
* * *
“I need to talk to you.” Dylan held his cowboy hat between his hands as he stood on Stu’s porch the next morning. The sun was still low on the horizon, but he knew Stu would be up. Dylan hadn’t gotten any sleep, and his stubble made his face as scratchy as his heart.
“What’s going on? Something wrong with the horses? The cattle?” Stu shoved his stockinged feet into cowboy boots.
“No, nothing’s wrong with the ranch.” He sighed. “It’s me.”
Somehow Stu had managed to insert his toothpick between his teeth. He nodded, the toothpick moving up and down. “We’ll talk better riding.”
They strode in silence across the yard to the stables and tack room, and it didn’t take long to saddle up and head down the trail toward the creek. The heat was already rising as they navigated familiar gullies and climbed hills. Dylan’s nerves ratcheted the farther they went. At what point would Stu stop? And how was Dylan going to explain? He’d figured he’d tell Stu everything on his porch, sprint back to his cabin, load the truck, stop at Gabby’s and...disappear.
“You see that clearing up ahead?” Stu pointed to a clump of trees with sunlight shining through them. “We’ll stop there.”
Soon they’d dismounted and were tying off the horses. Dylan marveled at the beautiful vista. They stood on a grassy hill with a panoramic view of the mountains. Smaller ridges lined the ground between them and the mountain range.
“Wow.” He took it all in for a minute.
“This is where Josiah and I used to come every September. We’d talk about the ranch. What worked that year and what we’d do differently the next.”
Now he felt even worse. He was going to ruin a special spot for Stu.
“Maybe we should ride somewhere else.” He looked back at the horses.
“Nah. This is a good talking place. Have a seat.” Stu gestured to a few stumps, and Dylan sat on one. His boss took the other. “What’s on your mind?”
He didn’t know where to begin. All night he’d tossed and turned, going over the same mistakes again and again. Maybe he’d be best off admitting he was rich right off the bat.
“I haven’t been honest with you.” Dylan stared down at his dirty cowboy boots, then met Stu’s eyes. “I came here under false pretenses. I’ve never ranched. I don’t need the money. I don’t even need this job.”
The toothpick bobbed slowly.
“I’m rich.” He made the word sound like he’d told him he was a serial killer. “My dad owned King Energy. I used to work for him, but he sold the company. He didn’t want me running it. Then he died about a month later. I inherited everything.”
The toothpick paused. Was that a twinkle in Stu’s eyes?
He pressed on. “My stepbrother died of a drug overdose a few weeks after Dad sold the company. And I didn’t even take his call the week he died.”
Why wasn’t Stu saying anything?
He didn’t know what else to say, so he sat there.
“Is that everything?” Stu asked.
He almost said yes, but it would be a lie, and Gabby hated liars—and he didn’t want to be that guy anymore. “No, there’s more. I love this job, and I’m in love with Gabby Stover. I lied to her, too. She hates me. I don’t blame her.”
“What’d you lie to her about?”
“The same as I did you. She thought I was some deadbeat cowboy for hire. She was the one who told me to work
here, so I did.”
“Why’d you do that?”
“I—” He raised his face to the sky. It was going to sound so stupid. But he owed Stu the truth. “I always wanted to be a cowboy.”
Stu’s face gave away nothing. “Was it the only reason?”
“No.” He hung his head. “I’d spent the past year traveling around the world. And I had no purpose. No place to belong. I guess I wanted to see if I could belong here.”
“And did you?”
“Yeah.” Closing his eyes, he inhaled the fresh Wyoming air. Not a sound could be heard except birds singing in the trees and the gentle breeze against the leaves. “I did. I do. I belong here.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“What do you mean? I lied to you. I lied to her. I’ve got to go.”
“Says who?”
“Says...” He hesitated. It wouldn’t be fair to stay here if Gabby hated him. He wouldn’t make her life miserable. “Me.”
“Bah.” He waved him off. “I don’t care about any of that.”
He didn’t?
“I knew you weren’t familiar with ranching, but you showed up at the right time. You’re a hard worker, dependable, and you’ve got the heart for it. I’ve been struggling since Josiah died—even his horse, Jethro, was struggling—until you came along. You’ve given me a spring in my step to keep this place going.”
The words wriggled into his heart, coated the raw spots with healing balm.
“I don’t know what went on with your daddy, but it seems to me he missed out on a fine young man. As for your brother and the drugs, well, you can’t compete with them. He was addicted, son. Nothing you could have done. Let it go.”
A sudden burst of emotion pressed tears against his eyes.
Stu kicked at the ground. “I’ve hired a lot of cowboys over the years, and they weren’t all living the right way. I tried to clean them up, too, and...” He turned away. “I couldn’t. It takes time and prayer to realize there’s only so much you can do when someone is fighting an addiction. It’s their battle. Not yours.”
Dylan clenched his jaw to keep his emotions under wraps.
“Listen,” Stu said. “I’ve known Gabby Stover for years. She’s a quality gal. A fine woman. And she’s never met a cowboy she liked...until you came along. I don’t know what all you two’ve got going, but if it’s a matter of you not telling her you’ve got money, well, I think you’ll be able to work it out.”
Dylan wanted to believe it, but... “I don’t think so. Honesty is very important to her.”
“Well, then, I guess we’d better pray about it, huh? Cuz I want you to stay on as my right-hand man. Yes, you’ll get a raise. No, you will not turn down the pay. You earn your money around here.”
Wait. Stu wasn’t disappointed in him? He was promoting him?
“I don’t know what to say,” Dylan said, shaking his head in wonder.
“Say yes.”
He wanted to—oh, how he wanted to. “I have to talk to Gabby. I appreciate the offer, but I can’t accept it unless...well, I probably won’t be able to accept it.” Stu had a forgiving nature, but he doubted Gabby had cooled down or would ever see him through compassionate eyes again.
“We’ll see about that. Now, head back and get cleaned up. You want to look your best when you talk to her.”
Stu didn’t get it—Gabby wasn’t just any girl. She’d let him into her life and allowed him to spend time with the baby. She’d trusted him. And he’d let her down.
They mounted the horses once more and headed back.
The urge to pray hit him hard.
Thank You, God, for Stu’s friendship. He may be the first person who’s ever accepted me for who I am. Well, that’s not true. Gabby did, too. And that’s why I love her.
He didn’t deserve Stu, either, but the man had brushed away his dishonesty as if it was nothing.
The same way God did.
You’re the One who’s always accepted me, haven’t You? How did I not see it?
With each passing moment, his heart expanded. The realization hit him—whether he was worthy of Gabby or not, he finally felt worthy of himself.
He was finally comfortable in his own skin.
He was Dylan Kingsley, and he didn’t need to define himself by his father, his money or his past.
He’d found himself in Rendezvous. He’d found home.
* * *
After three hours of sleep, two cups of coffee and a full hour of ruminating, Gabby was ready to think logically about Dylan.
She’d already gathered all of the details about his life that he’d shared with her, including Sam’s death, his father’s selling the family company, his traveling around the world, his mom using him as a pawn after the divorce and how his ex manipulated him for money, too.
She didn’t think he’d lied about any of it.
The facts appeared in a different light when she’d thought he was an everyday Joe as opposed to a multimillionaire.
The only thing he’d really hidden from her—that she knew of—was the fact he was rich. And even she could concede he’d had good reasons for it.
Given what little she knew of his childhood and his ex, it made sense for him to not advertise he was wealthy.
She took a long drink of coffee number three. Plus there was her own attitude. She cringed thinking of how she’d labeled Nolan as a rich kid who’d be nothing without his daddy’s money. And then she’d slapped the same label on Dylan yesterday afternoon.
Not her finest moment.
Which left her...where? How was she supposed to move forward?
She still loved him. But she couldn’t trust him. And deep down, she didn’t believe he loved her. Why would he? They’d known each other for a month, spent time playing with the baby and gone on one date. Guys like him wouldn’t fall in love that quickly, and especially not with her.
Tracing the rim of her mug, she sighed. Maybe that was the real problem. She still didn’t believe a guy could love her.
If she was wrong about Dylan—if he did love her—what would she be throwing away?
Like a movie montage, she pictured him standing in her doorway with a pizza, then trying to diaper Phoebe for the first time, laughing at her tales from the inn, grinning as he explained how to vaccinate a calf. And then she saw him kissing her, how right it had felt to be in his arms, how good it had felt to be wanted, needed.
His kiss hadn’t demanded—it had asked, it had given—just like Dylan himself.
Had he ever demanded anything from her?
She tapped the side of her mug. He’d accepted her conditions from day one. He’d followed her schedule, gotten a job on Stu’s ranch, been there when she needed him. He’d spent the last year traveling alone. He’d lost both his dad and brother. He’d also lost his job—his place in the world.
Suddenly, his money seemed like the least important thing about him.
Her heart climbed to her throat. She’d been wrong about him. So wrong.
He really was the same guy who’d shown up last month.
Why else would he work long hours on a ranch and live in a tiny cabin with no air-conditioning? Yes, it was to be near Phoebe, but that couldn’t be the only reason. He loved her—had to love her.
Was he still in town? Or had she driven him away?
Glancing down at her attire, she shuddered. Shower first. Call him later.
It was time to give him the benefit of the doubt.
It was time to take a chance—a real chance—on love.
Chapter Fifteen
Dylan took a deep breath and went through his mental checklist. Bouquet of peonies from Gretchen Sable’s flower garden. Check. Folder with legal documents. Check. Humble attitude. Check. Tell Gabby she was everything to him and he didn’t want to live without her or Pho
ebe. Almost check.
After returning to his cabin earlier, he’d promptly showered and put on his Sunday best. Stu had taken it upon himself to call Gretchen to ask for the flowers, then texted Dylan that Gretchen would have them ready after church. Dylan had prayed for strength during the early service then picked up the flowers on his way to Gabby’s place. He just hoped she would answer the door and hear him out.
He had so much to say.
With two sharp knocks, he stood his ground, clenching and unclenching his jaw as he strained to hear footsteps. He was preparing to knock again when the door opened. Gabby held Phoebe on her hip, and her eyes widened as she took him in.
“Can I come in?” He fully expected her to slam the door in his face. She didn’t say a word, simply moved to the side so he could enter. She wore a pretty sundress, and her hair flowed over her shoulders. His heart skipped a beat at how beautiful and vulnerable she looked. “These are for you.”
She took them and set the paper-wrapped bouquet on the table.
This wasn’t boding well. At least she’d let him inside. He held his finger out, and Phoebe wrapped her tiny hand around it, grinning and bouncing. “Hey, smiley.”
Gabby still hadn’t spoken, so he stood there awkwardly for a moment.
“Can we sit down?” he asked.
“Sure.” They went to the living room. Gabby put Phoebe on her play mat, then sat on the chair with one leg crossed over the other, while he set his folder next to him and perched on the edge of the couch.
“First, I apologize for not being honest with you. I misled you about my financial situation.” Her face became a plaster mask. He couldn’t detect a single emotion. “And, yes, my dad owned King Energy and I worked for him. Everything else I told you was true. Sam died soon after Dad sold the company. I’d stupidly thought Dad and I would grow close and he’d make me his partner. Instead, he sold it and I found out from his administrative assistant. He died two weeks later. A week after that, my ex-girlfriend—who dumped me because in her words I was ‘going nowhere’—came back into my life all sympathy and smiles. It was at that point I took off. Flew to Europe.”
