by Jane Porter
“I’m glad you’re not all on your own then.” Sophie hesitated. “Are you joining either of them for Christmas? Feel like Christmas with us?”
“At the Wyatt’s?”
“It’s my home now, too.”
Ivy shrugged uneasily. “I’m working Christmas.”
“I’m sure you either have the morning or evening off.”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea. Even though Sam and I aren’t enemies, we’re not exactly… close. It would be uncomfortable for both of us spending Christmas together.”
“Well, if you change your mind, I’d love to have you there. Even better, maybe one day we could meet up for lunch? I work here in town, just six or seven blocks over, at the Wright Salon. I run the front desk and help with bookkeeping and ordering things. It was supposed to be a temporary job when I moved here last spring but I like it, and I like Mandy and all the girls. It’s nice to be around women.”
Ivy smiled reluctantly. “There is a lot testosterone at the Wyatt Ranch.”
“You can say that again. Most of the time it’s good, but every now and then, well, it’s a whole lot of a lot.” She glanced at her watch, grimaced, and then reached into her coat pocket, retrieving a glossy pink business card. “Speaking of work, I better go, but here’s the number of the salon, and my cell number, too. Let’s get lunch, and please, feel free to call me anytime.”
Ivy watched the door a moment as it closed behind Sophie.
Joe was married. And married to a really wonderful woman. Ivy was happy for him. But she felt a little pang because, once upon a time, when she and Sam had been together, the Wyatt brothers used to tease, placing bets that Sam would be the first Wyatt to marry. And once upon a time, she’d been sure of it, too.
Ivy came from behind the counter to adjust the barstools, lining them up just so. The Wolf Den might be a dark, dingy bar with the worst reputation in town, but she could at least make sure it was tidy and clean when she started her shift.
An hour later, Sam arrived. Ivy had been surprised when he’d appeared yesterday, but was even more shocked that he’d returned today.
She watched as he peeled off his heavy leather jacket and drape it over the back of his barstool before sitting down, just one seat from where Sophie had been sitting earlier.
Her heart gave a double beat, and she felt a sudden surge of adrenaline that made her legs feel wobbly. “Hello, Sam.”
“Hello, Ivy.” He removed his hat, and ran a hand through his dark blond hair. Some men were pretty as young males, and others just got better looking as they matured. Sam was one of those that just got more rugged and more physically appealing with time.
“What brings you back?” she asked. “Because I know it’s not me.”
“Hoping for another free beer. You know I love a good deal.”
The corner of her mouth lifted. The idea of Sam, with all his money, and all of his big endorsements, needing a free beer made her want to laugh. But it also made her chest squeeze tight. Weird, seeing him here two days in a row. Weird remembering just how much she loved him. “Want anything with that beer? A lot of folks love the hot dogs. We also have nachos. They’re both hot and fresh right now. Can’t promise you they’ll be the same tonight.”
“As delicious as those both sound, I think I’ll just stick with a glass of water. No ice.”
“Demanding, aren’t you?”
“That’s what I’ve been told.”
Her heart slammed into her chest and her cheeks burned hot, even as she went cold, aware she was the one who’d called him demanding. She was the one who said he was selfish. She’d tossed all that at him and more the day she’d broken up with him.
She filled a glass with water and pushed it across the counter to him. “Everyone home for Christmas?” she asked, anxious to change the subject.
“Yep.”
“Your mom likes Christmas, doesn’t she?”
“Her birthday is the twenty-third so we all make an effort to come home for Christmas. Makes her happy to have those three days with us. And Marietta is festive, too. Everyone seems like they’re always in a good mood.”
“I noticed that during the Stroll. You would have thought we were straight out of a movie set.”
Sam laughed, low and husky. “Marietta thinks it’s Disneyland once Main Street is all dressed up for the holidays.”
“Has it always been this way?”
“Ever since I was a kid. Marietta has a lot of pride. She’s a good little town; always wants everyone to be happy.”
“Marietta is a girl?”
“I call her a girl. She’s pretty, smart, and tough… determined to be independent. Heck, sounds like I’m describing you, Ivy.”
The heat returned to her face. She reached over the counter to take a drink order from Lucy. “Not that tough,” she said, scanning the list of cocktails and beer. She looked up at Sam, her gaze meeting his. “Not that independent, either. Not even that successful.”
“You were doing really well this year on the circuit. And even better last year.”
“I don’t know if my heart’s in it anymore. I’m beginning to wonder if I’m done.”
“I might not be your boyfriend anymore, but I’m still your friend. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”
“What makes you think anything is going on?”
“Ivy, you’re working at a bar in the middle of Crawford County. You’re pouring booze instead of training horses. And from what Billy told me, you’re renting a room from a pill poppin’ old lady—”
“She’s not that old. And how did Billy know?”
“It’s a small town, easy to ask some questions.”
Ivy glanced at the door as it opened and closed. A group of young cowboys entered, talking and laughing, sounding as if they’d already had a few drinks somewhere else. “You might have been raised here, but you don’t own this town, and you don’t own me—”
“Never said I did.” Sam’s blue gaze locked with hers. “Can’t even imagine you have your horses with you.”
She counted to five, and then ten. “I don’t,” she said shortly, hating the confession.
Now Sam looked as pissed off as she felt. “You should be someplace better. You should be—” He broke off, shook his head.
Ivy leaned on the counter, leaning into his space. “Where should I be, Sam? Where should I call home? Mom’s gone and she was the only family I had.”
“Your dad’s not dead,” Sam said gruffly.
“And you know he’s not interested in being in my life, or he wouldn’t have walked out when I was four.”
“Have you tried to reach out to him?”
“For what?”
“I don’t know. That’s for you two to find out.”
“Sam, he sent a fruit basket when he heard Mom died.” She grabbed a sponge, wiped down the wet sink and squeezed the excess water out, thinking that it might have been two years since she and Sam truly talked, but they were right back where they used to be. Arguing. “If that’s his idea of comfort, I’m good on my own.”
“Are you good on your own?” Sam’s voice sounded hard and dry. “You keep saying you are, but sweetheart, I don’t believe you.”
She felt a spike of pain at his words but she smothered it. “Your problem, not mine.”
Silence stretched. Sam’s gaze never wavered from her face, making her feel hot and prickly all over. Making her feel, which wasn’t good, because feelings were dangerous, and emotions were her downfall.
“Can’t we keep it cordial?” he said quietly.
She ignored the sting of tears at the back of her eyes. “Hard to be cordial when you’re judging me.”
He shrugged, his big shoulders rolling beneath the snug fit of his granite-colored Henley. “Not judging. Just trying to catch up.”
She didn’t trust his smile because it didn’t even warm his eyes, and right now his blue eyes looked glacier cold. He was pissed off and she could feel his fury
from across the bar counter. “You’re rattling me, cowboy.” She struggled to smile. “How can I pour drinks when my hands are shaking?”
“Can’t have that. I didn’t come here to upset you.”
“Good, because I won’t like seeing you walk in this place if you’re just coming to give me grief.”
He laughed, creases fanning from his eyes. “Well, let’s change the conversation then because I want you happy when you see me.”
“Hmmm.” Ivy’s brows arched. “So how did you do at the NFRs this year?” she asked, because the Wyatt’s were always going to the national finals, and it was as safe a topic as she could think of.
“I did okay,” he said.
It was a big deal for her to qualify for Vegas, but Tommy, Billy, and Sam were regulars. She couldn’t think of a time when they hadn’t made the top fifteen in the last four years.
“Just how good was ‘okay’?”
“Took third in steer wrestling.”
“Good job. That’s some nice money.”
He hesitated. “And first in tie-down roping.”
Her jaw dropped slightly. Sam had come close to first, but had never taken a first before. “World champion, huh?”
He nodded modestly. “Yep.”
“That’s got to feel good.”
“I’m pretty happy.”
“How about Tommy and Billy? Did they both go?”
“They did well but I did the best this year. ’Bout time, too. Frustrating when your little brothers kicked your butt.”
She smiled, picturing his brothers. Tommy and Billy were fun and funny. They’d had so many good times together. “It must be awfully frustrating for the rest of the cowboys that there are three of you competing. Everyone’s probably praying the Wyatt’s retire.”
“Tommy and Billy are nowhere near retirement. I’ve begun to consider it, but not ready yet. Maybe in another three or four years. We’ll see how the body holds up.”
“Shoulder?” she guessed.
He nodded.
She bent down, grabbed a bottle of beer from the refrigerator and cracking the cap, pushed the bottle toward him. “Still putting off surgery?”
He nodded again.
“Why don’t you just do the surgery?” she asked, hands on her hips.
His mouth quirked. “Now you sound just like my mom.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
The corner of his lips lifted higher. “I guess that is.”
She raised a hand, gesturing to one of the regulars entering the bar. This one had a soft spot for Lucy so she wouldn’t have to do anything until Lucy came with his drink order. “So how long are you home this time?”
“Only until Christmas. I leave early the day after. Have some business to take care of in Cody.”
“Who does business the day after Christmas?”
“A seller anxious to close a deal.”
“Are you buying or selling?”
“I’m buying,” he said.
“What are you buying?”
“Property.”
Her eyebrow arched. “In Wyoming?”
He nodded.
“What kind of property?”
“What do you think, Ivy?” he countered, sounding exasperated.
She flashed him a sharp look before heading down the bar to make the rum and Coke Lucy’s customer always ordered. Easy on the cola, heavy on the rum. And this time she took an extra-long time to make the cocktail to give herself time to calm down.
Sam was buying a ranch, in Wyoming, when his family had a huge ranch, right here, adjacent to Crawford County. Why would he do that? Didn’t he care that he had the best family in the world right here? A family that loved him and supported him no matter what?
Ivy would have given anything to have a family like his, and Sam just took it for granted.
*
Sam lifted the icy beer bottle to his mouth but drank almost nothing. Instead, he watched Ivy down at the end of the bar, talking up a storm with a red-haired cocktail waitress with dangly earrings and a very short black skirt. Ivy was annoyed with him and that was fine. He was plenty annoyed with her. She was the one who walked away from him, from them, and the dreams they’d once shared. As a single man he could do what he wanted, and he was doing just that, creating the best possible life for himself.
A moment later she sauntered back to where he was sitting, her long ponytail slipping over her collarbone, a wash of pink on her cheeks. “You’re buying a ranch,” she said, her tone sharp, even as she gave him a look he didn’t much like.
“It’s good land, a lot of acres, perfect for cattle and some crops.”
“In Wyoming,” she added disdainfully.
“Three hours from here. Not the end of the world.”
“What did your family say?”
“Haven’t told everyone yet.”
She gave him a long, pointed stare. “You’re going to upset them. And you’re doing this at Christmas.”
“They’ve all known for years that I have no desire to live forever in Pray. I love Paradise Valley, but it’s not home.”
“Yes, it is home. You’re back home right now.”
“I’m a Wyatt, whether or not I live on the ranch.”
She nodded to a group of men entering the bar, her smile faint, tight, before turning back to him. “You couldn’t find anything closer?”
“I wanted something central, so that I could use the place as a home base between rodeos. It’s under thirteen hours from Cody to Vegas—”
“That’s what it is from Marietta, too, so don’t use that as an excuse.”
“Maybe I just want to get away from everyone.”
She eyed him a long time, jaw tight. “That’s why we didn’t work. Every time I wanted to be with you, you just wanted to escape.”
“We spent plenty of time together,” he said gruffly.
“Oh, right. In your truck, driving across the country. In the rig, jammed into the bunk.”
He eyed her for a long moment, not interested in continuing that conversation. “So when did you wrap up your year? I saw you in Calgary in July, but then you seemed to have disappeared.”
“I wrapped up toward the end of August when it became clear I wouldn’t be qualifying for Vegas this year.”
“I suppose you have enough sponsors you can afford to do that.”
Her mouth opened, closed. “Yeah,” she said after a moment, her gaze dropping to the counter where she rubbed halfheartedly at a scratch.
There was nothing convincing about that answer. He waited a moment, swigged his beer, and set the bottle down. “You still enjoying competing?”
She shrugged. “It’s not… I’m not…”
Her voice faded but he didn’t try to fill the silence. He wanted to hear what she had to say.
It took her a moment but she finally answered. “It’s not the same, Sam, not since Mom died. She loved the sport. Horses and competing were her passion.” Ivy’s fine dark eyebrows flattened. “I’m beginning to realize they might not be mine.”
“Horses or competition? Because those are two different things.”
She glanced at him, caught off guard.
He nodded. “You can love one without the other, and let’s face it; we both know you can’t live without your horses. They’re everything to you.”
“That’s true. I’m not over horses. I want to train them. I want to continue what Mom started. But I can’t do that without having a place of my own, but I’m working toward it. That’s the big goal.”
“You have your mom’s place in Custer. Why not go there?”
“I’ve leased it out. It’s a five-year lease, and even if I wanted to break it, I couldn’t. I know, because I consulted a real estate attorney for advice.”
“But you could use the money coming in from that place to pay for another place.”
“Theoretically, yes.”
It was obvious she didn’t want to tell him everything. “I’m
not following.”
“The point is, I’m not giving up on horses. I just don’t know that I’ll be competing anytime again soon.”
“Belle’s not going to like that. She gets depressed when you don’t take her out to turn and burn around those barrels.”
“She’s still running. Just not with me on her back.”
“What?”
Ivy couldn’t, or wouldn’t, look at him. “I sold her.”
“But how? Why?”
“I…” Her voice faded. She swallowed and tried again. “I… oh, it’s hard to explain.”
“Try me.”
“It’s complicated.”
“I’m listening.”
“I saw an opportunity where I could help someone, and so I did.”
“By selling your mother’s horse?”
“She’s my horse. Was my horse.”
“As well as the daughter of your mother’s champion Trixie. Bred by your mom. Raised by your mom—”
“I raised her,” Ivy interrupted fiercely. “With Mom, yes, but she was mine.”
For the second time in days, he saw red. Ivy was killing him. This was madness. Belle was the perfect horse for Ivy, a talented mare, a champion mare with impeccable bloodlines. And not to be melodramatic, but Belle was as close to family as Ivy had. “But why Belle? Why not Scotch? He’d get you more money.”
“He hurt his leg in August. We took a fall together. I couldn’t get full value from him, and who wants to buy a horse that might go lame?”
“He’s not lame.”
“Not now, no, because I took care of him, but if I’d sold him to someone who didn’t know horses or wouldn’t take his time getting Scotch back in condition—” She broke off, lifted her chin, refusing to be cowed. “Fortunately, he’s good now.”
“Only you lost Belle.”
Her confidence began to fail. “Let’s not talk about it.”
“This is Belle we’re discussing.”
“I know, Sam. And there are days that it just slays me that I sold her, but I had my reasons for selling her, and I still believe I did the right thing.”
“Who bought her?”
“A local rancher named Ian Wallace. His daughter Lizzie takes lessons up at Kruse Ranch. That’s where I met Lizzie. She was just starting to get into barrel racing, and Ian was eager for her to compete on a winner.”
