Twisting her lips, she frowned. They couldn't have been a long ways out of high school at this point, just young with the future's promise shining in their eyes. Emma had given her a brief rundown on the family residing at the ranch, touching only briefly on Finn's work with troubled horses, and not much else.
A noise behind her nearly made her jump out of her skin and she turned to find him standing behind her. Close, but not too close. She turned her eyes back to the framed photograph.
"I forgot that was there," he said, his voice quiet in the small space between them.
Chewing her lower lip, she glanced back at him. Resignation read all over his features. Today he'd been a toughened cowboy, heart of leather, and suddenly, he looked vulnerable and heartbroken. The look inside his hardened exterior made her feel like she'd stepped over a line she shouldn't have been anywhere near to begin with. A million questions she didn't have any right to ask raced through her head, and she felt the overwhelming urge to reach out and touch him. She glanced back at the photo, comparing the smiling, self-assured cowboy in the photo to the one standing close enough behind her she could almost feel sorrow rolling off him.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't be here," she said, looking back at him once more.
"Probably not." Just like that, the man who'd just about wrenched the heart from her chest was gone, replaced once again with the agitated one she'd met this morning. And it felt like he was reiterating his message from earlier. He didn't want her here, and she was wasting her time. A hot flush crept up from her collarbone and she cleared her throat.
"Right, they'll be wondering where we went."
He nodded with a grunt toward the slice of light coming from the kitchen at the end of the hall.
When they came back to the kitchen, Kerri and Dane had disappeared and Emma and Noah were tidying up.
"Hey, coffee, Lily?" Measuring coffee grinds into the coffee maker, Emma turned to Noah. "You better go before they fall asleep, honey."
Noah smiled and tucked the dish towel he'd been holding into the oven door handle, then slapped hands with Finn as he passed behind Lily and headed into the house.
"Bedtime tag team. It's the only way Gage will go to bed when everyone's here. He gets too excited otherwise. Everybody's gotta have a turn." Emma explained as she assembled the sugar bowl, and a carton of coffee cream from the fridge on the table and began taking mugs from the cupboard. "Couple of weeks and you'll be included. Finn, you staying for coffee?"
Lily glanced over her shoulder to where Finn had edged toward the door. He'd stepped into his boots and held his hat between his hands.
"No, I'm gonna turn in. Long day tomorrow." He cleared his throat, hesitating like he had something else to say.
"Boo, party pooper," Emma chided, arranging everything in the middle of the cleared kitchen table.
Lily glanced at the clock on the stove; it was barely eight o'clock. When she looked back, Finn was gone and Emma was shaking her head.
—FOUR—
Finn braced his hands on the counter, staring down his coffeemaker as it dripped, filling the carafe at a painstakingly slow pace. He had wanted coffee, but instead he'd come back to hide in his home like a coward. Any other night, he'd have stayed, shooting the shit with his brothers and their wives until he could barely keep his eyes open. The whole lot of them had always been close, and the relationships had changed and stretched as time and tragedy had taken its course, but they'd finally found that sweet spot again, where they were all on the same page, and he couldn't help but feel like it had been interrupted by the arrival of Lily Jacobs.
The juxtaposition of Lily, who had been present at the back of his mind since she'd climbed out of Nate's truck this morning, in front of the photo of Sunny had been like a shot in the heart, a reminder that she'd produced a little spark where there had been none before, by doing nothing at all.
He'd tried to kindle an interest in pursuing something besides his life of celibacy, but the efforts had never produced success. And here, now that he'd settled into a life he could say he was enjoying, she'd walked onto the ranch with little regard as to whether he wanted her there or not, and he couldn't deny the draw. It had shaken him more than he cared to admit.
And when she'd looked at him in the back hall of his childhood home—a mix of sympathy and sorrow without pity as she connected the dots about his dead wife—it had nearly undone him.
He'd tried to think about other things after Emma had hauled her away, but he couldn't. It wasn't that she was the first woman he'd met since Sunny's death—no, there had been new arrivals in town, and female clients—some of them rather flirtatious—but not a single one of them had prompted anything but platonic thoughts and business relationships.
Things on the Baylor ranch were simple, and that was how he liked them—quiet and slow. The most excitement they'd recently had was Dane and Ren's wedding. It was easy that way. He could be as social or anti-social as he chose, spending time by himself in his cabin or up at the big house with his brothers and their growing families. And because they were so happy, and so important to him, it was easy not to be jealous.
He'd wanted all of those things at one time. They would have expanded the cabin. Raised a whole slew of kids. Sunny had been kind and maternal toward Gage; she would have been one hell of a mother to their own kids. They'd put off most of their plans to chase a few rodeo dreams, have some adventures before they settled down. And then they'd waited too long. She was sick, and then she was dying, and they couldn't turn that clock back no matter how hard they would try. The cancer had come quick and aggressive, and she'd been brave. It wasn't until the very end she'd let anyone see how much it had taken from her, and even then, he knew she hadn't told the whole story.
He'd never wanted a complicated, fast-paced life. Even during his courtship with Sunny, things had gone slow and steady. She'd been his high school sweetheart, the only woman he'd ever had eyes for. And soon, she'd have been gone for more years than they'd been married in the first place.
The brave, stoic face Sunny had perfected had peeked out of Lily when she'd rope-burnt her hands and barely flinched. He knew the bite of that rope, and it made better men than him curse a blue streak. She'd stuffed it down so quick and so far, it was as though nothing had happened at all.
He shook his head as though that would get thoughts of Lily out of it, and straightened, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Finally, the green light indicating his coffee was ready flickered to life and he pulled the carafe out of the machine, pouring his mug full and doing his best to put Lily out of his mind.
—FIVE—
Buttoning her denim jacket, Lily let the door of Emma and Noah's cabin shut quietly behind her. She had woken up with the first lightening of the sky and hadn't been able to go back to sleep. Tucker wiggled gleefully around her feet as she carefully navigated the narrow steps.
Emma's buckskin gelding, Alamo, nickered a greeting to her from the corral behind the cabin and Lily smiled, then shouldered her camera bag and held her hands out, palms up. The rope burns were stiff and sore but didn't sting anymore.
"Sorry, friend. I got nothing." She meandered out the short driveway and Tucker stopped at the property line, sitting and watching as she turned right and headed up the driveway.
It was a half mile walk back into the Baylor property before the big house and barns came into view. The sun was just rising and the golden glow it cast over the ranch was beautiful and soft. A fine mist hung low to the ground, giving the entire place the most ethereal look. Perfect. She paused, pulling her one-strapped camera bag around her body until the pouch was in the front, and then unzipped it. The camera was huge and made people feel self-conscious when they saw it, but the truth was she wasn't usually interested in shooting people.
Landscapes and livestock, that was her bread and butter, though she enjoyed the occasional portrait shoot. It was how she'd met Nate Montgomery, taking action shots at the rodeo events around Denver.
He'd been one of those people intimidated by the big camera with the long zoom lens, and he'd approached her after he'd seen her on the sidelines snapping photos during his eight seconds. She smiled, remembering how he'd invited her for a beer afterwards, thinking he'd take her home. It hadn't worked out that way, but they'd become friends, and since the accident, she'd really appreciated his friendship.
The Baylor ranch was quiet—she wasn't sure what she had expected. Lifting the viewfinder to her eye, she snapped a couple of shots of the way the sun streamed just-so between the roofs of the horse barn and a little log cabin to the left. She hadn't noticed it when she'd first arrived, but then, she'd been busy noticing the way Finn Baylor didn't want her here at all. The cabin was small, but bigger than the one Emma and Noah had been living in. Maybe two bedrooms instead of one. And it looked more permanent, too, like it had been around for a while. Probably housing for help before four strapping sons had come along. It was charming, with a covered porch on the front and a red tin roof.
Just as it dawned on her that the cabin was the same one from the photo last night, the front door opened. Lily drew in a quick breath and, without knowing why she did it, stepped behind one of the giant live oaks lining the drive. Finn stepped out onto the tiny porch, hung a flannel work coat on a nail in one of the pillars by the stair and stretched his arms over his head. He had a long sleeved t-shirt on, tucked into a pair of jeans that had clearly seen better days, and a belt buckle glinted at his midsection. His lean body flexed back, then forward as he bent and finished buckling his loosely fastened spur straps, and something low in her belly pulled.
He crossed the yard in a few long, loose strides, to the round pen where Encore had spent the night. She was grateful to the Baylors for being able to accommodate him in an outdoor pen; he needed to move to keep the residual swelling in his legs down. They'd have to figure something else out if they were still here once winter came, but for now, he was a hearty horse that didn't mind the elements and the early fall chill was already burning off with the rising of the sun.
Encore lowered his head over the fence and nickered at Finn, and Lily smiled. He'd been mostly withdrawn for the last year, compared to the big personality she'd come to know and love over the years they'd been together, and seeing him engage again—first with Emma at Renegade and now with Finn—warmed her heart.
As he approached, Finn reached out and let Encore smell his hand. When the horse didn't back away, he reached up and stroked the swirl in the middle of the gelding's forehead. Without thinking, Lily stepped around the tree, lifted her camera, and hit her shutter. She snapped a few more shots as Finn bent and slid between the rails of the round pen. He ran his hand under the Encore's mane, down his neck, over his shoulder, and the horse craned his neck, lipping the back pocket of his jeans.
Her heart thudding in her throat, she watched the cowboy stride confidently into the middle of the round pen and then send the gelding out around him with a flick of his hand. He drove the horse with his body language, first at a walk, and then a trot, testing out his soundness. As if they were connected at a far deeper level, the horse stopped, turned, and changed paces with the simple shifts of Finn's body. Like magic.
She'd seen it before; mostly in videos online. When Emma had told her that her brother-in-law had been doing a variation of natural horsemanship since well before it had become a big-selling business, Lily had been skeptical, but interested. It was one thing to see an imported cowboy from Australia do it for an audience in a packed arena, but it was entirely different to see it in action with her own horse.
When she'd finally realized she was in over her head with Encore's behavior and started looking for a trainer, she'd had lots of offers of the ole yank-and-spur methodology. One cowboy had offered to 'ride the dirt out of him', another offered to lie him down to teach him submission, but Lily knew better. He was scared and unpredictable, not belligerent. Encore had always been what she affectionately called an 'independent thinker' and that quality was what had gotten them out of trouble on the trail more times than she could count. Now it worked against her, and she knew there had to be another way. He'd already been traumatized enough by the long recovery process; it was as long and painful as hers had been, and if she was honest, a little selfish, too.
It was a miracle he'd survived the collision in the first place, the fact that he was now trotting around the outside of the round pen with one ear turned toward the cowboy in the middle and no lameness at all was divine intervention. Intervention she'd needed when she'd been in the hospital recovering from surgery, and then on bed rest. Knowing he was still alive, that as the healing process continued, she would eventually be wheeled into the vet hospital to see him, was what had sustained her.
Lily finally started toward the pen, her shutter clicking every step or two. If Finn or Encore noticed her, neither showed any indication. Finally, she lowered her camera and took in the imagery. Encore's glossy coat rippled in the golden light of the early morning sun, marred by the network of scars on his hindquarters. She still thought he was the most beautiful horse she'd ever seen.
Despite popular belief, with his giant dinner-plate sized feet, abundance of hair, and large, hard-to-fit head, his intelligence and common sense had always attracted her. Since the accident, though, she hardly recognized his personality. Despite their long partnership, they were suddenly more out of sync than they'd ever been, and he was more terrified of everything than he'd ever been. Anything approaching from behind sent him into a tailspin. She'd been too frightened to have anyone, including herself, try riding him. It was during a dark moment, when she'd begun to ask herself if it had really been worth it to put him through the agony of recovery that Emma had suggested Finn. And here he was, spinning his magic. He'd told her he didn't want her involved, but she couldn't help it. The horse was engaged and interested for the first time since the accident. She couldn't take her eyes off them.
*
It took her just about forever, but when Lily folded her arms on the top rail of the round pen, Finn couldn't help but sigh. Bad enough she'd chased him out of his brother's home the night before. Bad enough he'd been thinking about her the minute he woke up this morning. Bad enough he'd told her she wasn't welcome as a part of his work with the horse. Here she was. There was no way he could focus all of his attention on the horse now. He shifted his body to block the horse's impulsion and Encore stopped up, dropping his head and chewing. Finn smiled briefly.
This was something he knew. Something he could count on to produce consistent results. Different horses took different methods and different spans of time, but the end results were always predictable. This was something he knew, was confident about, while every other aspect of his life could be set into a tailspin, his work with client horses was solid.
As he turned toward Lily, Finn could hear the thud of the horse's big feet in the sand behind him, and he paused about six feet from the rail, without yet speaking to her, while Encore caught up. He turned his back to her, and rubbed the horse's jaw, rewarding him.
"Can I help you?" He thought he'd been clear about his directive the day before, but he obviously hadn't. He turned to her, still leaning over on the fence, watching him interact with the horse.
"Um… no," she said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, remembering his directive from the day before.
"Seriously, I don't let clients watch sessions, especially the early ones." So far, he couldn't see any need for the 'tough love' methods that upset owners in Encore, but his policy provided a good excuse to try to make Lily out of sight, and hopefully, out of mind.
"I know, I'm sorry. I just thought I'd get an early start on shooting the ranch—" He must have unknowingly made a face, because she frowned. "After you left last night, Dane said I could go wherever I wanted to get shots for the project."
Of course Dane had told her to go and do what she'd like, because his brother was wonderful at hospitality, and wasn't so bothered by having her
poke around. Because he still has his wife and isn't attracted to Lily. The bitter thought took him by surprise and felt sour in his head. He wasn't like himself at all—when Sunny had died, he'd cursed every god he could think of—real and imagined—but he'd never begrudged happiness to those he cared about. Not even for a second. Further proof Lily's mere existence on the ranch was problematic.
"I see."
"And I'm not trying to brag myself up, but the photos I take are good."
"Is that so?"
With the challenge, she puffed up with pride, lifting the camera from her chest. She thumbed a button on the back a few times and then slipped the neck strap off over her head, flipping her blond ponytail over her shoulder.
"See for yourself," she said, holding the giant device out to him.
He took the camera from her. On the small viewing screen was a photo of one of Encore doing a rollback in the front end of the pen. The way the shot was angled, Finn could see his own face just above the horse's shoulder. His eyes were focused on the horse, and he could feel the animal's movement even though it was a still shot. She had captured the moment exactly as it felt, not just as a sketch of what it looked like.
"I know you said you don't like to have an audience, but I've never seen this stuff before," she continued. "Not in person, anyway."
Secondhand Heart Page 3
