The video. She’d almost forgotten what she was here for. “We were thinking outside shots. Maybe you on horseback.” She stopped. “You do have other horses, don’t you?”
He laughed, the warm sound sweeping through her. “This way.” They went around to the other side of the barn where the pasture was sectioned off with a barbed wire fence. “Will this work?”
The land stretched out over rolling hills. A few trees stood sentry on the far edge of the property. Horses graced the scene as though someone had painted them there. No landscape in her gallery matched the beauty of this man’s backyard. She took a deep breath, soaking in the calmness. She could stand here all day. “This is perfect.”
“I like it out here. I’m always eager to get home when I’m on the road.”
“I can see why.” It seemed a world away from the busyness of the city.
“There’s a pretty place at the back of the property. Do you want to go for a ride? See it on horseback?”
She shook her head. She’d seen enough to know the video she envisioned would work. “Thanks, but no. I don’t really ride. I mean, a few times, but…” Horses—one more thing that terrified her—but that sounded ridiculous to say to a man who rode bulls for a living.
He nudged her with his elbow. “Come on. Mom’s first chemo treatment is coming up next week. It’ll help me take my mind off things.”
Heather bit her bottom lip. She’d just watched him get thrown from a horse, and that didn’t look the least bit fun. It looked scary and painful, but he was nervous about his mom’s treatment. What could it hurt? Actually, it could hurt a lot if she got thrown, but maybe she could abandon caution for once. “Are these horses anything like the one in the corral?”
“You can ride Leila. She’s like the Dalai Lama of horses. As calm as they come.”
The dimples surfaced, sealing her fate. She sighed. “Okay.” It was impossible to say no to those dimples.
#
Wyatt stood nearby as Heather climbed into the saddle. Those wide eyes gave away her fear. “It’s going to be great,” he reassured her. “This is my calmest horse in the pasture.”
He’d teased his mom about using the cancer card to get him to have lunch with Heather. He’d just done the same thing to convince her to stay. Her white-knuckled grip on the reins had him second guessing whether this was such a great idea. But he really wanted to redeem himself after that little fall in the corral, and he wanted to show Heather his life wasn’t all about getting thrown off the back of animals. Living out here was peaceful, and she looked like she could use a little peace. He adjusted her hands on the reins, then stepped back. “You okay?”
She smoothed her fancy slacks and nodded, but the paleness of her face told him another story.
“Leila here is a sweetheart. I promise.” He patted the horse, whose tail flicked. “She wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
Heather’s grip tightened.
“I’m going to jump on Mo back there. You gonna’ be all right?”
No answer. Just another frantic nod. What had he done? He’d imagined a relaxing ride to get to know Heather better. Instead he’d rendered her mute.
Maybe it was for the best. Every time they were together, he agreed to something he wouldn’t normally do. He still wasn’t sure about the fundraiser. If it had been anyone but Heather, he would have said no. He’d stand out like an elephant in a herd of cattle.
Placing his boot in the stirrup, he swung his leg over Mo. He’d wanted to impress Heather, but instead of doing something dangerous or stupid like he had when he was a teenager trying to get a girl’s attention, he was putting on a tux and going to a stuffy event at the museum.
Mo sauntered up beside Leila. Heather hadn’t moved an inch and wore an expression like she was about to walk the plank.
“You still want to do this?”
“Sure,” she squeaked out.
He tapped Mo’s side, and Leila naturally followed.
“You have a bad experience with a horse?” He looked over his shoulder.
She sat as stiff as a board and shook her head. “But I’ve always been afraid of being thrown from one.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” Heather gasped when Leila’s ears twitched away a fly. “My mom’s a worrier, and her plan to keep us safe was to scare us away from everything. I think her fear rubbed off on me. I guess it had the opposite effect on my brother.”
The horses instinctively followed the narrow trail into the tree row. “What do you mean?”
She hesitated and glanced at him, as if she were debating how much to tell. It was clear Heather’s caution seeped into every area of her life, even to the words she said. “Craig was an adrenaline junkie,” she finally said. “He was killed in an accident about a year ago. BASE jumping.”
Wyatt pulled back on the reins and the horse stopped. No wonder Heather was so afraid of getting hurt. “I’m so sorry, Heather.” His stomach twisted. With his mom’s cancer diagnosis, the idea of a loss like that hit too close to home. It brought all of his greatest fears to the surface. But it was the reality Heather faced every day.
Heather’s horse came abreast in time for him to see her lips press together. She couldn’t hide the tremble. “Thanks,” she whispered.
The rest of the ride they were silent, and he prayed he would do and say the right things to help soothe Heather’s pain. She stared straight ahead, seeming to be lost in thought. When they curved around toward the west, the view of the pond with its sloped sides and the little deck he’d built came into view.
“Wow,” she said in a breathy voice. “This is so tranquil. It’s like a painting.”
She almost sounded as if she’d forgotten she was on the back of the horse.
He loved it out here. To indulge his love of fishing, he’d stocked the pond with bass. At night the croaks of the frogs and locust were so loud they could drown out all his thoughts. Heaven on earth.
A few minutes later, he helped Heather from the saddle, surprised she didn’t bend down to kiss the ground.
He looped the reins on a couple of low branches, and he and Heather walked side by side to the grassy bank. His fingers skimmed hers, and he forced himself not to reach out to take her hand.
With her blond hair blowing in the soft breeze, she stared out toward the streaks of pink that were low in the sky. “I’m surprised you ever want to leave this place.”
“When I’m home, I stay here as much as I can.”
She let out a quiet laugh. “Until your mom drags you to an art museum.”
“Exactly. She means well. Maybe I should give her more credit. I mean, she did introduce me to you.”
He let the words hang between them, ripe with possibility.
Her cheeks bloomed with color, and it made her even prettier, if that were possible. “Your mom is great. I’m really glad I’ve gotten to know her…and you.” She glanced at the ground.
His breath caught.
She sat on the grass and stretched her legs in front of her.
He followed suit, their shoulders brushing. “What about you? No boyfriend?”
She bit the inside of her lip and shook her head.
Surprising. She was smart and beautiful. She must have men asking her out all the time. “Is there a story there?”
“The last one wasn’t there when I needed him. He let me down. I decided it was better to go it alone.”
He could relate. His relationships usually started out fine, but with his travel and working most weekends, he couldn’t seem to make it work. “I know what you mean. Of course, it’s a lot to ask of someone to put up with what I do for a living—maybe too much to ask.”
He also knew that if he were ever going to be the best at what he did, he had to stay focused. There were younger guys rising through the ranks, but he had experience on them. It would be hard enough to stay in the game with what was going on with his mom. He needed to buckle down and make his dream of being a world champion a
reality before time ran out.
But sitting here beside Heather with the sunset turning her hair golden, all that stuff seemed less important.
She shrugged, her eyes on the horizon. “I guess if it’s love—if you find the right person—those other things won’t matter.”
Gazing at her upturned face, for a moment he believed she could be right.
#
The next thing Heather knew, the sun had dipped behind the horizon, and she and Wyatt were still talking about their families, their childhoods in Texas, and their faith. He told her what it was like to be known as a Christian among the riders who weren’t believers. He told her how he was putting his trust in God through his mom’s cancer. She loved how comfortably and fearlessly he talked about Jesus and wished she had some of that same fearlessness in her life.
One of the horses blew out a breath, and Heather sat up straight. “We need to get back.”
Wyatt put a hand on hers and glanced at the horses. “They’re fine. Just getting a little restless.”
She climbed to her feet. “But it’s getting dark.” She didn’t even like to drive at night, so the thought of getting back on that horse without being able to see where she was going terrified her.
He chuckled as he stood. In his boots he towered over her. “They could walk the path home blindfolded, they’ve done it so many times. We’ll be fine I promise.”
Chill bumps ran up her arms from the breeze. Or maybe from the cowboy’s nearness. She folded her arms.
“You’re cold.” He took off the denim shirt he was wearing, leaving just his white T-shirt, and draped it over her shoulders. “I kept you out here too late. Lost track of time.”
His shirt smelled good, like him—like leather and grass. “It was the nicest time I’ve had in awhile.”
The horse snorted, and she jumped.
Wyatt wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “It’s going to be all right. I’ll be beside you the whole time.”
The warmth from his body rushed through her and calmed her nerves. She took a deep breath. “Okay.”
“Ready?” he asked.
She nodded despite her uncertainty. She wanted to stay safely standing here with Wyatt, but the sky was getting darker with every passing minute.
He helped her up into the saddle, and she gripped the saddle horn.
As the horses plodded back toward the house, she did her best to relax.
He kept glancing at her, checking on her. “How are you doing over there?”
She squeezed the reins. “How much farther?”
“You’re almost there. Just around this bend.”
His voice, calm and reassuring, made her feel better. A little.
Soon they were back at the barn. With the overhead light shining down on them, he stood behind her ready to guide her from the back of the horse. In a hurry to dismount, she leaned forward in the saddle.
“Watch your heels,” Wyatt said calmly. “Ol’ Leila here doesn’t like her flank to be—”
The horse reared its head back, and panic rose in Heather’s throat.
“Whoa, girl,” he said.
All the air rushed out of her lungs as two strong hands grabbed her and set her feet safely on the ground.
She stood slightly bent to regain her steadiness—from the fall and from Wyatt’s touch.
When she looked up, his face was pulled tight with concern.
“I’m fine, really,” she said, embarrassed to be acting like such a baby.
He patted the horse’s neck to calm her, and then looked at Heather. “Maybe we could get together again sometime for dinner—do something you actually enjoy.”
She stilled. Wyatt was asking her on a date, even after she’d acted so ridiculous about getting on his horses.
He shifted. “But if that’s against the museum rules or you just don’t want to…”
She’d hesitated too long, and now he thought she wasn’t interested. “No, it’s not that. It would be great.”
He cocked his head to the side. “But?”
“There’s no but,” she said. “It’s just sort of funny.”
“What’s that?”
She should probably stop while she was ahead. “You know. A rodeo star and a girl who’s afraid of horses.” She and Wyatt were about as different as any two people could be. He was strong and fearless. She clung to all the safety and security she could get her hands on. She had a feeling going on a date with Wyatt would send her spinning into uncharted territory, but despite all the logical reasons she should say no, she desperately wanted to spend more time with him.
She could barely make out his smile in the dimness of the night. “They say opposites attract, right?”
And, boy, was there an attraction. Even standing here where she could barely see him, the outline of his strong build and the sound of his voice was enough to send her senses reeling.
“I should probably get home before it gets too late,” she said, trying to shake herself out of her trance.
They walked together toward her car, and she took in the sounds she would never hear in the city—the crickets, the rush of wind over the grass. She raised her eyes to the expanse of stars above her that outshone all the art in the museum. “So you’ll call me?”
“Definitely. And no horses, I promise.”
At her car, he reached around her for the door handle, and his nearness sent a jolt of electricity through her.
She’d promised herself that the next time she was interested in someone she wouldn’t fall too hard, too fast. She’d made the rule to protect herself from being careless with her feelings. She didn’t know Wyatt very well yet, but it suddenly seemed like he might be worth the risk.
Wyatt leaned down, and her heart beat harder than it had on the back of the horse. But his mouth brushed just past hers to her cheek. She closed her eyes as he pressed his lips against her skin.
Maybe she needed to rethink her aversion to risk. Because in that moment she felt invincible.
Chapter Five
The next weekend, Wyatt pulled his truck in front of a huge iron gate in a ritzy neighborhood on the opposite side of the city from where he grew up. He rolled down his window and punched in the four-digit code. This place was like Fort Knox. The gate slowly opened in front of him.
A single woman on her own in the city had to be diligent, and it was reassuring that Heather lived somewhere safe. Of course, even these tall fences couldn’t guarantee protection. As a kid he learned that some danger, like his abusive father, came from inside the house. He couldn’t help but wonder if being locked away here fed Heather’s nervousness, or alleviated it.
He drove between the neat rows of town homes, each one looking exactly like the next, watching for her house number. His dad was gone, but the sense of security he’d stolen hadn’t come back easily. Wyatt hadn’t been able to protect his mom then. He’d stood on the sidelines as his father had taken out his anger and frustration on her. And here he was, sidelined again as she faced cancer.
No, the fences around this neighborhood couldn’t protect folks from everything.
Shaking off the thoughts, he parked in front of a low street lamp. Even memories of his father couldn’t ruin this night and his date with Heather. Wyatt climbed out of the truck and straightened his hat. He hadn’t felt this nervous in a long time.
He knocked on the door, and then heard locks unlatching. He waited to see Heather’s pretty face behind the door. Instead of Heather, a petite woman with white hair that curled in every direction appeared. She wore a hot pink track suit and carried a tiny dog in her arms.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said. “I didn’t mean to bother you. I must be at the wrong address.”
“You’re not.” She cupped a hand around his arm and led him into the home. “Come in. Come in.”
He pulled his hat off. “I’m looking for Heather Tornsten. Do you know which unit she lives in?” He glanced at his watch. How had he gotten the wrong unit?
&nb
sp; “Heather,” the woman yelled, making the dog’s ears perk up. “You were right. He is very handsome, but he’s wearing a cowboy hat.”
He glanced at his hat. He’d grabbed the clean one, right?
Heather rounded the corner. “Nana, I asked you to let me get the door.”
“I like the hat,” the older woman said. “But I’ve never known you to date a cowboy.”
He wasn’t sure what to say, so he held a hand out to her. “I’m Wyatt Lawrence.”
Her right hand was occupied by the dog, which bared its teeth at him, so Nana put her left hand in his and squeezed. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Wyatt. Call me Nana.”
Heather sighed, but her eyes sparkled. “My grandmother showed up unexpectedly.”
Nana still gripped his hand. “Yes. To check you out. I had to meet this young man who had our little Heather giddy about a first date. It’s quite unlike her.”
Heather blushed. “Nana, please!” From behind her grandmother, Heather mouthed, “Sorry.”
Maybe he wasn’t the only one with a busybody in the family, but strangely, having Nana there settled him a little. At least he wasn’t the only one with a meddling woman to contend with. Nana rivaled his mother.
“You look beautiful,” he said to Heather. And she did. She wore a black dress and tall black shoes, and she’d pulled her hair up, showing off her graceful neck.
Her shoulders relaxed. “Thank you. I’m going to grab my purse.” Heather put a hand on her grandmother’s arm. “Nana, please be nice.”
“I’m always nice.” Nana and the little dog both stared up at him as Heather disappeared down the hall. “Where are you planning to take her?”
“I thought we’d find somewhere to eat near the West End.”
Her mouth turned down in disapproval. “No. No. No. I made reservations at Heather’s favorite restaurant, The Brass Steakhouse. You can take her there.”
Her grandmother made them reservations? He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly embarrassed that he hadn’t thought to do that on his own. The Brass Steakhouse was one of the fancier restaurants in town and nothing like the little smoothie bar they’d gone to for lunch. He hoped he could get by without a jacket and tie. “Well, I guess if it’s her favorite.”
The Art Of Falling Page 4
