Happy Hour

by Michele Scott

  Tyler Meeks looked up from the papers on his desk. His hair and skin were both sun-kissed and golden, his green eyes were the color of the Mediterranean Sea, and his lips were shaped perfectly with a little bow meeting in the middle. He had a three-day shadow and Jamie knew that her thoughts were downright ridiculous. Movie stars looked this good, not horse trainers. But goodness, he was like this amazing blend of Brad Pitt and that adorable boy from all the High School Musical movies that Maddie said she wanted to marry some day. What was his name? Zac Efron. That was it.

  And then it hit and it hit hard. Guilt. More guilt. First off, Tyler Meeks was at least ten years younger than she was, and secondly she was a married woman. Technically. Sort of, anyway. Well, she should have been. She wanted to be. Why couldn’t Nate be here right now? To watch his little girl ride a horse? To not care if her riding lessons cost them thirty-five dollars or a hundred dollars? And in those strange few seconds looking at Tyler Meeks and preparing to argue about his prices, she felt tears try and make their annoying presence.

  “May I help you?” Tyler asked. He picked up a remote control and turned off the TV in the corner. “Sorry. I like Judge Judy,” he quipped.

  “Yes. Maybe. I hope so.” Jamie swallowed and collected herself. “I’m Jamie Evans.” She reached across the desk as Tyler stood and shook her hand. “My daughter Maddie is taking lessons from one of your instructors. Gwen.”

  “Nice to meet you. Gwen is very good with the youngsters. She’s taking my place with the kids right now. I’ve got my hands full just running the place.”

  “Yes, Gwen seems to be really great. My daughter is very excited and she loved her first lesson. She’s out there right now getting ready again.” She paused, her fingers clasping the band on her purse tightly. People didn’t make her nervous. She was an editor-in-chief. She handled people all of the time. But this guy made her nervous.

  “Great. I’m sure you and your husband will find that we have a great program here. Our focus is on safety first and developing a real passion for the horse.”

  “I’m not married. My husband passed away.” Now why in the world had that come out? She never said stuff like that, especially to strangers.

  “I’m sorry.” His face reddened a bit.

  “No. Please. Thank you.” She couldn’t sound any more ridiculous if she tried.

  “I thought that, well, that’s a beautiful ring.” He pointed to her hand.

  She glanced down at the marquis diamond surrounded with tiny emeralds, her birthstone. Her wedding ring. Jamie knew she’d better get to the point before this situation became any more strained. “I’m here because of the pricing.” He raised his eyebrows. “You see I was quoted one price by one of your employees and then when I brought Maddie for her first lesson, I was told it was another price.”

  Tyler clucked his tongue. “What were you initially told?” He sat back in his chair.

  “Thirty-five dollars an hour.” She looked down.

  “Then that’s what it is. If one of my employees told you that, then that’s what it is. What did you pay last week?”

  “Fifty.”

  Tyler stood again, reached into his back pocket and took fifteen dollars out of his wallet, handing it to Jamie.

  “No. No. It’s really not that big of a deal.”

  “I think I’ll be okay without the extra fifteen. Please take it.” He walked over and placed the money in her hands. Something terrifying went through her. Something she vaguely remembered as lust. And as she looked from the dollars in her hand up into those sea green eyes, she thought for a second there that he felt what she was feeling.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I better go watch my daughter.” She pointed to the opening of the office, but she didn’t move. It was almost as if some force stronger than her own will kept her there in the presence of this illegally gorgeous young man.

  “Why don’t I walk out with you? I have a horse I need to check on. Mare colicked last night. She’s a stoic one. Had the vet out and he oiled her, gave her some Banamine and we walked her for hours.”

  Jamie had no clue what he was talking about, but it sounded good to her and she nodded with a smile.

  “You don’t ride, do you?” he asked, glancing sideways at her.

  “No. I mean I like horses. I think they’re beautiful, and I’ve ridden, you know on the trails, like when you go on vacation.”

  Tyler laughed. “Right. You get a poor old nag who gets one rider after the next until she finally breaks down.”

  Jamie frowned.

  “No. I don’t mean that what you did was wrong by doing that. Lots of folks who go on vacation take those rides. Let me guess, was it in Hawaii?”

  She nodded. “Maui.” A distinct memory flashed through her mind of riding up through Haleakala on her honeymoon with Nate, his face golden from the sunlight, almost translucent. He’d looked like an angel. The image of him like that, breathing in the tropical fresh air of the island, looking so peaceful and content, was engraved on her soul. She could never forget that day. Whether or not she rode a poor old nag she had no clue, because all she’d thought about that day was how lucky and happy she was to be married to Nate.

  “I’ve never been there, though I’d like to go some day. Lots of responsibility here and with my parents passed on, and neither of my sisters wanting to deal with this place anymore, it’s all mine.” He smiled and dimples creased both cheeks.

  Wouldn’t you know the man would have dimples too?

  “Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t we saddle up one of the horses and give you a chance to ride a real horse. I mean a real nice horse.”

  “No, no. I can’t do that.”

  “Why not? I think you’d enjoy it. You can ride Pickles. He’s one of my good old boys and won’t do anything nasty. Come on. Your daughter is out with Gwen. I can give you a bit of a lesson.”

  Jamie shook her head. “No. I can only afford Maddie’s lesson. And I thought you didn’t give lessons any more. That’s what you said.”

  “I won’t charge you. And I make a few exceptions. Come on. Give it a try.”

  “I’m not exactly dressed for it.”

  Tyler eyed her from the ground up and back again. She felt her face heat up. Why did it feel like this guy was undressing her with his eyes? Did he make moves like this on every woman? What was she? The poor widow that he could now put his smooth cowboy moves on?

  “I see what you’re saying First of all, you would need some boots.”

  She was wearing a pair of clogs because she had not been able to find her tennies that morning.

  “The jeans are fine and unless you have some real affinity for not getting that particular T-shirt dirty, then that’s okay too. I’m sure one of my sisters or one of the instructors has a pair of boots that’ll fit you. Hang on a sec and let me peek in on my mare and see how she’s faring.”

  How could she say no to that kind of enthusiasm? Jamie didn’t think Tyler was going to take no for an answer, but she tried one more ploy. “I’d really like to watch my daughter take her lesson.”

  He stopped walking and turned to her. “You’re afraid.”

  “I am not.”

  “See it all the time. Stop worrying. Your daughter is in love with the horses already. I’m pretty sure of that. If I know anything, I know that when little girls start begging moms for riding lessons that it’s a done deal, and there is no going back. At least not until she hits high school and discovers boys.”

  “Comforting.”

  “True, though.”

  “I say you ride my horse. I’ll give you a short lesson. Then you’ll have a bit of an idea as to what Gwen is teaching your daughter. The two of you can have some fun later on talking about it. Who knows? Maybe you’ll like it so much, you’ll want to do it again. You’re going to have plenty of days out here to watch your little girl ride a horse. Shoot, before you know it she’ll be pleading with you to lease or buy her one.”

  Why couldn’t Maddi
e have picked a sport like soccer? “I guess I’m sold. I’ll ride your horse.”

  “Good.” He stopped in front of one of the stalls and opened the door. Inside was a beautiful palomino, all golden with a light blonde mane and tail.

  Jamie stood there awed. She had always found horses to be gorgeous. And she had wanted one as a kid at some point. But they’d lived in the suburbs and her mom had no interest in horses, only a fear of them. Thus, Jamie lost interest.

  She watched as Tyler gently stroked the mare and spoke softly to her. “How you feeling, mare? Better? You gave me a scare. Let me listen to that big old gut of yours.” He put his ear to the side of her stomach and listened, then walked to the other side of her and repeated his actions. “Good. Nice gut sounds and looks like you passed your oil. Good kid.” He scratched behind one of her ears.

  Something about watching him with that horse shot that lustful feeling straight through Jamie again—all the way down to her toes. She didn’t need to be riding his horse. She needed to get out of there and fast. This was supposed to be about Maddie, not gawking after some hot guy who wanted to give her a riding lesson. But she couldn’t chicken out now so twenty minutes later she found herself up on a bay Quarter horse, walking around one of the arenas on the ranch with Tyler giving her instructions like, “Get your heels down. Sit up straight. Tighten up your right rein and good job keeping him on the rail.” She rode for about forty-five minutes and the longer she rode the horse, the more she realized how much fun she was having. When they were finished and she rode the horse back to the crosstie area to tie him up, she followed Tyler’s instructions.

  “Take your right foot out of the stirrup. Good. Now lean your body over the horse and kick out the left foot. Now push off and slide down.”

  Instead of sliding down, Jamie tripped and fell right on her butt. Tyler laughed and she started laughing, too. He held out a hand to her and pulled her back up. “You okay?”

  She nodded. “My nickname is obviously not Grace.”

  “Ah well. You did good. You’ll get off him better next time. Your daughter is over helping Gwen rinse off the horse. I see them over there.” He pointed to a set of wash racks on the other side of one of the arenas where she could see Maddie spraying off a horse and laughing.

  “There will be a next time, right?”

  “Oh, no. I don’t know about that. Like I said, I can’t really afford it.”

  He nodded. “Did you like it? If you could afford it, would you do it?”

  She stood there for a few seconds thinking about it. “Yes. You know, I think I would. I wanted to ride as a kid and I think it would be fun and good for me too.”

  “I have an offer. Saturdays I run a horsemanship for the handicapped program. I’m always needing volunteers and all you have to do is help the kids brush and saddle the horses, and then a team of two to three people lead the horse and kid around.”

  “I don’t know if I could do that.”

  “I can teach you. It won’t take long. I could also knock off a few more dollars with Maddie’s lessons.”

  “You do this for everyone?” She smiled.

  “Only the pretty ones.” He winked at her.

  “Ah.” She didn’t know how to respond. Was he coming on to her?

  “You seem like a nice woman and it’s obvious you’ve had some rough times. Let me help.”

  “Pity service.”

  He sighed. “If you’re helping me help some handicapped folks, I don’t think that I am pitying you. I believe in helping others. Or are you too proud to accept that?”

  She crossed her arms and studied him. He was right. She had no room to be too proud and helping others was a good thing. And if it meant that Maddie could do something she loved a little more often, then who was she to say no? “When do you want me here to start my training?”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Alyssa

  Alyssa closed the gallery to prepare for her art classes, taking up the largest area in the three sectioned-off gallery spaces. She covered the paintings in that area with tarp, as well as the flooring—just in case.

  She set up chairs, easels and all of the supplies. Alyssa loved the way the rich earthy scent of her oil paints with their acidic overtones assaulted her senses, signaling that call to arms—pick up that paintbrush!

  Five people, including Danielle, showed up for the Wednesday evening art class. It was a mixed group, with an age range from nineteen to seventy. They were a good group, all interested, and some even showing talent as Alyssa had them do the first sketch—wine or vineyard-related—which would later become their first oil.

  After a demonstration period and then some questions and answers, the artists went to work and creativity flowed. This was Alyssa in her element. To add to the ambience, she put on some old jazz classics. Snapping her fingers in time to Ella Fitzgerald, she moved around the room, offering advice and guidance.

  She stood over Danielle. “I like it. You’re pretty good at this.”

  Danielle looked up at her and smiled. “You think so?” Alyssa nodded. “Thanks.”

  “You okay?”

  “Sure. I’m good,” Danielle replied. “Better. I’m doing better.”

  Alyssa wasn’t convinced. Maybe she’d talk to her at dinner. There was a lot on her plate right now, but Alyssa wouldn’t push her. If anyone respected privacy, she did, as she valued hers so much and would never really want to discuss the things that hurt her most. The past was gone and it could not be changed, so why bother sharing it with anyone? It was far easier to shove it aside, try and forget about it, and move on.

  Two hours later, the artists put away their supplies, thanked Alyssa, and headed back to their everyday lives. Danielle helped her put chairs and easels away, and take down the tarps.

  “That was great.” Danielle held up her sketch of a wine bottle and a slab of cheese surrounded by grapes. “I needed that. Some time away.”

  “Good,” Alyssa replied. “I’m happy you could make it over. You have some real talent.”

  “Speaking of talent, you said that you had a new painting you were working on.”

  “I’m not quite ready to show anyone. It’s missing something. I can’t tell what. I feel it though. It’ll come to me. I promise you’ll be the first to see it when I’m ready.”

  “You artists,” Danielle quipped.

  “I know. We can be a bit strange about our work. They’re like children, I suppose. You want to protect them, right?”

  “Isn’t that the truth.” Danielle walked through the gallery, stopping in front of Alyssa’s oils of the little boy in the vineyard. “This child, he looks so real. You had to have had a photo or a model to do this.”

  “No. The pictures are in my head.”

  “And you’ve never seen this baby or boy before?”

  “No.”

  “You are truly a talent, my friend.” Danielle tucked her dark red hair behind her ears. “Shall we go eat?”

  “Sounds good.”

  Danielle headed for the door, her back to Alyssa who reached out and touched the cheek on the boy in the painting, almost as if saying good night—good night to a ghost.

  ***

  Kat spotted her friends come in and she seated them at the best table in the house. Christian’s had a different flair than Sphinx did. It had class like their place in the city, but far cleaner lines. Black and white and Tiffany blue were the primary colors. A fireplace sparked in the middle of the restaurant that gave off a warm glow during winter evenings. For the summer months, Kat placed candles inside the hearth. On the walls were black and white photos of Christian in various cooking motifs, some with him and Kat and some with his daughter Amber. There was one with her boys in it that also included Amber, Christian, and herself.

  “Hi, ladies. What can I get you to drink?” Kat asked after her friends sat down in one of the booths.

  “What would you recommend?” Alyssa asked.

  “For you, I have a great chardonn
ay from a local winery, actually owned by a Latino family. Kind of a neat story. Dad started out working in the fields years ago and made his way up the ranks. Now he owns his own winery.”

  “El Sueño, right?” Danielle asked. “Great family and, yes, the wines are fantastic. Why don’t we have a bottle of that?”

  “Perfect. And I’ll also bring you out a plate of a delectable herbed goat cheese and mushroom tart. It’s delicious.”

  “And low-cal, too,” Alyssa said.

  “Of course!” Kat hurried off to the back for the wine and to put the order in for the tart. She’d planned to serve the girls herself if she couldn’t join them. It was after eight on a Wednesday and things were slowing down. The scent of garlic and rosemary filled the bustling kitchen as four cooks worked alongside Christian.

  “Mushroom tart,” she said to her husband, who was overseeing his sous chef, Renaldo. He patted him on the back. “I’ll get it.”

  Kat pulled out a chilled bottle of the chardonnay from the wine cooler and started to head back out into the restaurant.

  Christian put a hand on her shoulder and stopped her. “Can I talk to you?” he asked.

  She grimaced. That was a tone she hated. “Now?” She held up the bottle of wine.

  He nodded. “It’ll only take a minute and its been weighing on me all day.”

  She sighed heavily. “What is it?”

  “It’s Jeremy,” he said.

  She knew it. Hours, and occasionally days, would go by without Christian coming to her with some complaint about one or both of her boys, and like tonight, he always picked the most inopportune moments to accost her. It was almost like he waited to attack when her defenses had no choice but to be down. For goodness sakes, she was trying to pour wine for patrons and now her friends were waiting on her. It had been three days and she’d held her breath, hoping that they could make it through a week without some squabble about her sons to bubble over. “What now?”