“Whatever you two decide. I’m helping your dad with the horses. You’re on Austin duty.”
Austin and Will looked worriedly at each other. “When’s Keith back?”
“Three, hopefully. There’s roast beef in the fridge to make us sandwiches. We’ll be up at noon.”
“Mom, I’m not going back to the way things were,” he said. “Remember? Sitting around either in a hospital or here, watching shows in the middle of the day like a senior. Except at least a senior can say they’ve done something in life. Don’t you remember? All I could be trusted to do was hold Austin when he was sleeping, which a bed could’ve done just as well.”
His mother dropped the frying pan into the sink with a clatter. “Face facts, Will. You’re heading straight back to sitting around again, and this time, if you don’t, there might not be any point to you getting out of the chair.”
“I’m sure I’ll find a way to stumble on,” he said, “for what it’s worth.”
His mother drew herself up. “Are you saying this place isn’t worth it?”
He wasn’t sure what he was saying. He only knew that twenty-four hours ago he had plans, plans for one-on-one time with Krista, plans to tell her his intentions to buy out Keith and Laura, plans to share his dreams and see if she’d like to be part of them. To keep trying despite logic shaking its head. Now they’d been scrapped. “I guess part of my plans had to do with settling down, and I guess that’s not going to happen.”
“Maybe your plan should be,” she said, “to come up with some fancy talking to get Krista back.”
“We agreed to end it.”
“You two haven’t been together for two months. Even your brother’s disastrous relationship lasted longer.”
Maybe long enough. Krista had been an indulgence, a life experience that he normally wouldn’t expose himself to. They’d not carried things far enough for there to be the complication of an unexpected pregnancy. He glanced over at Austin. Not that he would’ve minded. Krista wouldn’t have abandoned their baby. She would be part of his life in one form or another for the rest of their lives.
He wished things had become more complicated with Krista.
“I guess we were smarter about its chances of success.” Except he must’ve woken twenty times last night, each time the loss of Krista pounding through him like the pain through his shoulder. Right now, he wasn’t sure which pain was worse. He tossed back his pills. One of those agonies he could lessen. “C’mon, I thought you’d be relieved it’s over between me and Krista.”
His mom poured coffee into two thermos mugs. “She’s grown on me. She’s been good to Laura. And she’s the first girl you’ve gone out with who actually seems to care about your well-being as much as I do.”
From rock to hard place. From Krista to shoulder. His mother was relentless. “I intend to rest over the next few days.”
“You’re only resting because there’s a break in the field work. I can operate a baler as well as you.”
“But you shouldn’t have to, Mom. That’s my job.”
“We run a farm,” she said. “It’s everyone’s job.”
Disappointment and frustration flared up. “Four generations of Claverleys, and it all comes to an end with me. Too busted up to carry on the name.”
“The name? Is that what this is all about? You ended things with Krista because of a name?” His mom pointed at herself. “Osterhuis. That’s my maiden name. That’s half of what you are. The best any Claverley can ever be is half of one. The other half is made by women with a different name, a different upbringing, a different way of thinking. There hasn’t been a Claverley man who hasn’t had to accept those differences. You’re no exception. Stew on that while you change the diaper of the next generation of Claverleys.”
* * *
KRISTA SCOOTED ON her wheeled stool from Mara to Bridget, pulling along her mobile pedicure station. Booked so tightly now, she was rethinking her one-on-one model. The trick was to deliver quality to both customers, so neither felt neglected and she didn’t appear rushed. If she could work out the bugs with her sisters, she’d be good to go.
But relaxed sisters on their Thursday night out made for chatty sisters, and the subject tonight was once again her.
“Are you sure there’s no chance of reconciliation?” Bridget said, wriggling in her chair. “There’s something stabby in the back. It’s not as comfortable as your first one.”
“But I lucked out on the other one. Do you know how much they cost new?”
Bridget gave her a look, the same one she’d given Sofia when the girl had complained her carrot sticks were on the wrong side of her plate. “Three months ago you would’ve been over the moon to be so busy you needed a second chair. You got what you wanted. Stop finding problems.”
Her big sister had a point. Her dream business was a roaring success, thanks in no small part to her stint as Will’s fake girlfriend. But it had come at the cost of their relationship.
“You’re right,” Krista confessed. “I should be happy.”
“But you’re not,” Mara said, dabbling her toes in the warm water, “which brings us back to Bridget’s question.”
“Nothing has changed. It’s the same answer I gave Mara the night I broke up with Will.”
“Things might’ve changed in four days.”
“They haven’t, they won’t. What color did you decide on, Mara?”
“White with yellow daisy decals.”
Krista suspected Mara’s choice was intended to lengthen their time to grill her. Bridget, too, picked a shade that would require three coats.
“Could we have a change of topic, please?”
“Sure,” Bridget said, “how’s the Troll?”
Her name for Phillip. He apparently had not learned that she and Will had broken up as his memes persisted. She dried her hands on a towel and showed her sisters his latest creation. Krista-doll was puckered up, waiting for Will-doll to kiss her. The quip: The longest ten seconds is not riding on a horse.
“Krista-doll also blogged a recipe on how to make cow patties,” she added.
Her sisters made grossed-out faces. Bridget moaned as the rods in her chair kneaded her lower back. “How’s your counter-campaign going to work now that you and Will aren’t together?”
Not together. Another relationship she’d ended. She should’ve felt relief or satisfaction that she’d done the right thing. Except...she missed him. She missed sending him texts and waiting for his lame, short replies. She missed not making plans with him. Worse, she couldn’t stop worrying about his injury. “It’s not going to,” she said. “I’m sure Alyssa can carry on with Will.”
“People will notice,” Mara mused. “Most of the comments on the Celebrity Ride page are about how cute you two are together.”
“If they only knew the truth,” Krista said, setting Mara’s foot on her lap and applying the file.
Mara jerked. “Leave a little skin.”
“Sorry.” Krista cupped her hand around her sister’s toes to restore the relaxed vibe she’d clearly botched. She’d better siphon away her negative energy over Will before her real clients arrived. “You’ve seen us together. We have nothing in common. We’d make each other miserable. Real Will would turn into Will-doll.”
“Doesn’t mean you two didn’t enjoy being with each other,” Bridget said, her words slurred from the kneading effect of the chair.
“Easy for you to say, Bridge. You and Jack function like one person. Eat together, work together, talk together, parent together. Will and I don’t have a thing in common. By the way, Phillip and I also looked good together.”
Her phone sang. “Alyssa. I’ll let it go to voice mail.”
Then Alyssa sent a text. OMG. Call me about the Will situation.
“And it’s official,” Krista said, lowering Mara’s feet into
the bath. “Alyssa knows we’ve broken up. Exactly what she wanted. Should hit the social media fan soon.”
“Read it,” Bridget said. “What does it say?”
“I don’t read texts when I’m with clients,” Krista said, “and that’s what we’re pretending you are.”
“Pretend it’s an emergency text.”
Krista couldn’t deny her curiosity—and dread. Better to absorb Alyssa’s snide commentary here and now with her sisters than with a client. I heard from Laura about you and Will. Could we work something out? Then in a new text, as if she needed a moment to compose herself: I am wondering if you two would be willing to continue the social media front until after the celebrity ride is over. Maybe by then Phillip will have backed off, too. I have not talked to Will yet about it. I want to hear from you first.
“That sounds civil,” Bridget said.
“It sounds that way because she will do anything to make sure the celebrity ride happens,” Krista snapped and lifted out Bridget’s feet quickly, water whooshing about. Not very relaxing. Get a grip. “Not that I blame her. She’s poured her heart into this cause. The money could save the lives of kids or at least make their days easier, so my little heartache doesn’t matter. I get that. It’s the way she goes about it. She said she hasn’t, but I bet she already talked to Will. Knowing him, he would’ve said that if I agree, he’ll go along with it.”
“I don’t get it, Krista,” Bridget said. “That sounds reasonable. Why are you annoyed at him, for letting the choice be up to you?”
“Because he believes that there’s no point being honest if it means someone’s feelings get hurt. He’s leaving me to do the dirty work. And dirty work—” she nailed Bridget with the secret anger she’d held since her breakup conversation with Will “—is apparently what I do in relationships.”
She and Bridget had a stare-down that ended with her interfering sister shrugging her shoulders. “Prove me wrong.”
Which meant she and Will would have to prolong their relationship by faking it for a few more weeks. Full circle. Except... Krista squirted lotion in her hand in preparation to massage Bridget’s feet. “I don’t want him to do the ride. It’ll ruin his shoulder, if his stupidity already hasn’t. I can’t stand being with someone who deliberately risks his health. And worse, he lied to me. He deliberately didn’t tell me the whole truth. And he knows how I feel about honesty and liars. I can’t trust him.”
“Or,” Mara said slowly, “he’s the kind of guy not to burden others with his troubles.”
“I was his girlfriend. He’s on the hunt for a wife. What kind of wife wants a guy who doesn’t tell her the truth?”
“Krista, you two were dating for what? Six weeks, maybe?” Bridget said. “And you guys were doing it biweekly? I’m not sure he violated some sacred trust. He has a tendency to keep his troubles to himself, is all.” She nodded at Krista’s hands. “Any of that meant for me?”
She’d rubbed the lotion into her hands instead of Bridget’s feet. Self-massage. She normally treated her hands daily before her first appointment, a routine she’d dropped this work week. Ignoring her hands, the source of her “talent.” She stretched out her fingers.
“That’s the thing, I could’ve really helped him. These hands could’ve taken away some of his pain. I could’ve learned how to massage the area or helped him with his exercises or anything. He only let me help once, and that was because I caught him in the act of icing his shoulder. The rest of the time he tried to convert me into somebody I could never be in a million years.”
“Are we the ones you should be telling this to?” Mara asked.
Krista squirted out more lotion and this time applied it to Bridget’s feet. “It doesn’t matter. Once his shoulder heals, what then? There’s not much call for spas out on the farm. And horses, the ranch, that’s his passion.”
“If it heals,” Mara said.
Krista froze. Her fear voiced in Mara’s quiet, irrefutable tones. No. If her touch really was her gift to the world, then—Sorry, Will. No more hands-off.
Krista picked up her phone. “I got your message,” Krista said, as soon as Alyssa picked up. “Sure, if Will agrees, I can continue with the act until after the celebrity ride. But I was wondering if we should push a new angle.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, I was thinking we should play up Will’s shoulder injury. Build in the human drama of him risking himself by riding with an ongoing injury.”
“I’m not sure Will would like that.”
“We don’t have to go into all the details. Mention he’s doing therapy. Maybe a picture of him and me in the physiotherapist’s waiting room, or doing an exercise.”
“I could ask—”
“Alyssa, it’s a condition of me doing this.”
She sighed. “Okay, let me know how it works out.”
Krista shook her head. “Nope. You want this. You deal with the ornery celebrity.” Krista hung up before Alyssa could protest.
“There. I proved you wrong, Bridget. Don’t you dare smirk.”
But it was no use. For the rest of the session with her sister-clients, she had to put up with their sly suggestions for other social media poses she and Will could submit to.
* * *
SEATED BESIDE WILL in the waiting room, Krista opened her phone at the trill of an incoming text. “Ah good. My two o’clock confirmed she can switch to Thursday instead.”
“You didn’t have to come, you know.” He meant it, would’ve preferred it. He would have said so except he was acutely aware of Alyssa sitting directly across from him. For the occasion, she’d brought a handheld camera and was recording.
She smiled up at him as if he was her whole world. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” A nice line—too bad Alyssa had written it.
She had written lines for him, too, but that hadn’t gone well at the rodeo, so he decided to wing it here, as well. Besides, it would shake Krista out of her rut, knock some honesty out of her. “You might not want to be here, depending on what the doctor says.”
The visit with the specialist was real. The X-rays and imaging results were in, and the doctor would not be faking the delivery of the results.
Krista slipped her hand over his. “We’ll get through this.” A borrowed line but taking his hand wasn’t.
He looked down at the curl of her hold over his, her gentle warmth seeping into him. He missed her touch on him. In the weeks they’d dated, he’d grown used to the glide of her fingers, the peppering of her quick kisses, the deliberate brush of her side against his. He’d come to crave it. She’d not done it for money or because a camera was rolling or because it was part of their arrangement, but because she’d wanted to. Now they were back to faking it.
Only now that he’d had a taste of the “real” Krista, it was hard to separate the two. Her soft voice was pitched exactly like when she’d agreed not to give up on them after Phillip had started his campaign. Will made it “impossibly hard” she’d told him. Not impossible, as it turned out. He carefully squeezed her hand before releasing it.
“Thanks, Krista. That means more than you’ll ever know.”
“Cut!” Alyssa said. “Great, I can work with that.”
Alyssa seemed to have gotten over him quickly enough. Gotten over her trouble with Krista, too. The two of them had orchestrated this “injured-Will” angle on their own. He could’ve refused, except it meant he could be close to Krista. He was that pathetic. But that was Krista’s pull. She made him breathe easier, took the duty out of living and made it a thing of pride and possibility. He only seemed to be a source of aggravation for her. Somebody she had to deal with for a higher cause.
The receptionist came out. “Will?”
Will stood, Krista tight beside him. His fingers twitched and then he let himself indulge. He took her hand.
“Wait!”
Alyssa said, reaching for her camera. “Could you do that again?”
They reenacted his dependency on Krista, which was getting increasingly easier to do. They walked, hands entwined, down the corridor, Alyssa ahead shooting, walking backward into the consulting room.
“You aren’t going to film the actual delivery of the news, are you?” Krista said.
“That’s what we agreed on,” Alyssa said. “Right, Will?”
He had agreed, but faced now with the examination table and its white stream of paper, the doctor’s stark desk with its computer and the windowless, white walls, he didn’t want to be here, much less have hundreds, maybe thousands view his reaction to the results.
But to back out was to show himself to be as weak as his shoulder. A coward.
Krista hadn’t let go of his hand, even though this bit of drama wasn’t going public. “Maybe this is a little too raw for our viewers. They could be informed of the upshot. Will can do a little update afterward. We can even have the doctor explain to the viewers what’s going on.”
Alyssa turned to Will. “What do you think?”
Both sets of eyes swung to him, each wanting a different answer, but it was the one beside him with the blue eyes, the one he’d slow-danced with and even now held his hand, that he spoke to. “I like Krista’s idea.”
The doctor knocked and entered, surprise registering at the crowded room. Alyssa moved to leave, holding the door open for Krista.
Krista hesitated, and that was enough for him. “You could stay, if you want,” he said, not quite able to meet her eyes.
“If you don’t mind,” she said, every bit as casually as him.
“Are you willing to make a statement about Will’s condition afterward?” Alyssa said to the doctor.
“Statement? I doubt it. Why would I ever do that?” He looked Alyssa up and down, his steely gaze fastening on her camera. His doctor scared Will a little. He wasn’t much older than him but he carried the authority of a surgeon general. Alyssa waggled her fingers. “No worries. I’ll arrange it with the front desk.”
Harlequin Heartwarming June 2021 Box Set Page 91
