The Cowgirl Meets Her Match (Elk Heights Ranch)

by Kristin Vayden

  Jasper gave her an irritated glare. “Can I finish?”

  She waved her fork.

  “I don’t know where you guys stand, if you are interested in him, but I want you to be careful. Okay? Rant over. Done. Just—”

  “Guard my carnal treasure?” Harper barely spoke the words before she broke into a fit of the giggles.

  “I will hate that movie forever because of that one line.” Jasper closed his eyes, a pained expression on his face.

  “I still love that movie; it speaks deep to my soul.” Harper sighed then giggled again when Jasper opened his eyes to glare.

  “You and Kessed can watch it sometime.”

  “Win a Date with Tad Hamilton! Classic.”

  “Sure. Right up there with Gone with the Wind,” Jasper replied sarcastically. “But yes, I was thinking more of your heart. Guard your heart. Done. End of conversation. How about them Seahawks?” He took a drink of water and washed down the lasagna.

  “Fine, I’ll let you off the hook.” She let out an amused chuckle as Jasper gave her a grateful expression and took another bite.

  “For now.”

  He rolled his eyes.

  Harper turned back to her plate. She was thankful for her brother’s protective nature; it was comforting. But she had the sinking suspicion that its effect on Sterling was more sobering.

  She thought back to when they’d left the dairy. Sterling had smiled and engaged in conversation, but something had been off. She hadn’t been able to quite pin exactly what it was. When she offered to take him back to the ranch, he’d agreed quickly. Almost too quickly, and as much as she hated it, she was slightly hurt. It was stupid, but that hadn’t stopped her from having the feeling. When they’d arrived at the ranch, he’d thanked her, teased her about the mayo and butter sauce, then headed into the house.

  With a limp.

  Harper rewound the memory in her mind. His pain medication must have been wearing off. Just how much pain did Sterling deal with on a daily basis? The whole concept brought her to a darker place. Her own pain was like a phantom injury that sent a shiver of awareness through her body; pain like that haunted you. It was real. And in the middle of it, you couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to live without it.

  It was too strong.

  Lifting her glass of water, she tried to focus on something else, anything else.

  With her, she knew the pain was not only physical, but it also had a deeply rooted association with the mental torture she had experienced. Because of her abuse, it was impossible to separate the two kinds of injury.

  She’d gone to therapy for several months after her injury, both the physical kind and the kind that made you dive deep into your heart.

  Both sucked.

  Both hurt like hell.

  But both helped.

  And what she’d learned was that it was a fight.

  One she’d have to combat every day.

  She set the glass down and pushed her plate away, no longer hungry.

  “You’re too quiet. What’s up?”

  A slight grin teased the corner of her mouth. “This coming from the man of few words....”

  “I’m apparently feeling talkative today.” Jasper arched a brow. “You want to talk about something?”

  “No,” Harper answered, picking up her plate and walking to the kitchen sink.

  “Is there a reason?” he asked, prodding gently.

  “Because sometimes talking about it doesn’t help. It just makes the memory stronger. And right now, I kinda just want to forget,” she answered with as much honesty as she could muster.

  “I can respect that,” her brother replied after a moment.

  “Thanks.” Harper leaned against the kitchen sink with her back. “I’m going to go and check on Spartan.” She pushed from the counter and walked to the door.

  “Sometimes I think you love that horse more than you love me!” Jasper called out as she turned the door handle.

  Harper paused and glanced over her shoulder. “I don’t, but that’s only because you bought him for me. You understand.” She walked out into the evening light.

  “I’ll take what I can get!” Jasper called to her just before the door shut.

  The night air was crisp and cool. Eastern Washington was technically a desert famous for its temperature inversion. While it was great for growing wine grapes, it was also fantastic as a reprieve from the oppressive Indian summer heat. A few lonely crickets sang as she walked to the barn, and a coyote howled in the distance. It was a haunting and beautiful sound.

  As she slid the barn door open, she flicked on the overhead lights. Spartan nickered softly, nodding his head as he watched her approach from his stall.

  “Hey, handsome,” she murmured, placing her head against his, inhaling his equine scent.

  They had run through the barrels that afternoon after she’d dropped off Sterling. Her head hadn’t been in the game, and she had given up timing their circuit after the first three rounds and had just ridden for pleasure rather than practice. It had been exhilarating and freeing. Though she knew they both needed the practice, she also just needed to breathe.

  Spartan sighed gently, leaning into her just enough to push her off balance. She stepped back and gave him a mock glare. “How about a short little ride?”

  Spartan blew out a low nicker and stomped his foot.

  Harper opened the stall and stepped inside. She unhooked the bit-less bridle from the nail beside the horse’s hay manger, slipped it over his head, and latched it below his cheek.

  She opened the gate and led him out, stopping beside one of the open stalls. She stepped on top of a bale of hay, and hoisted herself onto Spartan’s bare back. After a soft pat to his neck, she clicked her tongue and led them out into the twilight.

  The path around the hill was well worn from her constant use of it, and she opted to meander around their property rather than just circle the arena. Spartan’s head bobbed as he wound among the sagebrush and followed the trail that circled the old homestead. The crickets silenced as they passed by. Harper kept her eyes open for wandering rattlers, but chances were they wouldn’t see any this late in the evening. Even if they did, they were old enough to have rattles and sound a warning.

  It was the spring when the snakes were a problem. Baby rattlers didn’t have rattles on their tails; they couldn’t warn, and they were mean as hell and didn’t let go when they bit.

  Spartan heaved a sigh as they wound around a basalt boulder, and Harper started to relax further. Her mind drifted back to when she was younger. Her parents had always had horses. And she had always thought friends with four legs were better than those with two. After all, they couldn’t make fun of you, avoid you, or push you around—well, not in the same way. So many times, while Jasper would be away with his friends, Harper would be off riding in the sagebrush, bareback, leaning back all the way and watching the sparse clouds dance across the sky while the horse meandered and grazed.

  It had been a beautiful childhood.

  And all too short.

  She had never been close with her mom, and in hindsight she wondered if maybe that was because she somehow knew that her mom had never been in it for the long haul.

  Maybe she’d been protecting herself even when she was little.

  But that didn’t mean it hadn’t destroyed part of her heart when she woke up one morning with her mother no longer at home.

  Gone.

  She still didn’t understand it.

  As someone who’d lost a child, even before it had been born, she couldn’t imagine not loving that little life....

  Parents’ love should always be unconditional.

  Love in general should be....

  If there are conditions on it, doesn’t that mean it isn’t actually love?

  She twisted
her lips as she pondered the deep things in her soul.

  Her father had done his best, but he had been heartbroken too, dealing with his own pain and rejection.

  And probably some guilt.

  Soon, Harper had lost him too.

  Which was probably why she’d latched on to Brock so fiercely.

  Letting go of him was so terrifying.

  It might hurt if he gets angry, but at least I’m not alone.

  She remembered thinking those thoughts, and how twisted and sick they were.

  But not any less true.

  The past was in the past, and like her therapist had said, “It happened, but it isn’t where you are now. Grow where you are.”

  And she was determined to do that.

  But days like today, when her past seemed so close to the surface, made it very hard.

  Like treading water in quicksand, but it was one breath at a time.

  Breathe.

  Just. Breathe.

  Spartan nickered, jolting her from her thoughts, and she glanced around to see what he’d noticed. “Whoa, boy.” She pulled up on the reins and narrowed her eyes.

  She didn’t see anything...but that didn’t mean something wasn’t out there. Mountain lions, coyotes, deer—it could be anything. Turning Spartan around, she headed back home. It was still light enough that she felt comfortable encouraging her mount into a lope. His black mane flowed over her hands as she leaned forward, and her grip on the woven reins relaxed. A smile stretched across her face as she felt the wind tease her hair.

  Freedom.

  She slowed Spartan to a trot, then a walk as they approached the barn. The sunlight was fading over the Manastash Ridge in streaks of pale orange. She slid from the horse and led him back into the barn. Her jeans were itchy from his coarse hair, but it wasn’t anything the washer wouldn’t take care of. After she put Spartan back in his stall, she took off his bridle and hung it back on the nail. She walked to the tack room and filled a small bucket with molasses oats and shook it around a little, grinning when his ears perked up at the sound.

  “You like that, don’t you?” she said, walking toward him.

  He stretched his neck out, trying to get closer to the bucket.

  “Greedy,” she scolded jokingly.

  She took some out of the bucket with her hand and offered it to Spartan. He lipped it up hungrily and then sniffed her hand for more.

  “Here you go.” Harper dumped the remaining contents into the hay manger and hung the bucket back up. “Night, old man,” she called out as she switched off the main lights.

  She closed the barn door and sighed, soaking up the peaceful evening air.

  Night was falling, and she was thankful.

  She was more than ready for this day to be finished.

  Tomorrow would have its own issues. But it was a beautiful thing to have a fresh start.

  And each day she was given that gift.

  Something new.

  Hope.

  Because each day really was better than the last.

  And that was what healing was all about.

  CHAPTER 11

  Sterling couldn’t sleep.

  The damn leg was killing him, and it was crazy, but when the pain was constant, he could almost get his mind around it.

  But when it was gone and then came back when the medication wore off, it drove him insane.

  He couldn’t think around it.

  He couldn’t think beyond it.

  It was just there, gnawing at him, burning on the edges of his mind.

  Never.

  Stopping.

  Ever.

  He threw the sheets over and stood up, his leg protesting at the movement, and he bit back a low curse.

  After limping to the bathroom, he opened the medicine cabinet and took out his prescription and swallowed two pills, closing his eyes and reminding himself that the pain would be gone.

  Soon.

  He leaned down and turned on the faucet, taking a drink and wiping his mouth. Tomorrow was going to be a long day, and he really needed to get some freaking rest.

  But his mind was as restless as his body.

  Tomorrow, Laken would be taking him to Seattle to see the therapy specialist. It was just a benchmark appointment, but that didn’t stop him from having concerns.

  What if he wasn’t healing as fast as he should?

  What if his leg wasn’t progressing in muscle development?

  What if he never would get away from the pain?

  He leaned over the sink, bracing himself with his arms as he took a deep breath.

  No. He would. His body would heal; this wasn’t permanent.

  But it sure as hell felt like it was.

  He pushed from the sink and hobbled back to bed, hissing through his teeth when he almost tripped on a discarded shoe.

  Lying back on the cool sheet, he closed his eyes—but his mind wasn’t willing to relax.

  He thought back over the day, replaying certain aspects, his emotions in high gear as he remembered Harper’s words.

  Her story.

  Her pain.

  And he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t consider that maybe Jasper was onto something.

  That maybe he was a real threat to Harper’s heart.

  Was he willing to risk that?

  To hurt her?

  He wasn’t. At all. And that really sucked.

  Because with her, it was different.

  Better.

  And he didn’t want to give that up.

  But at what cost?

  He’d kissed her, implied that he wanted more.

  And he’d had no right. Because he couldn’t offer her what she needed.

  Stability.

  He was off balance in the worst way, and not just because of his damn leg.

  Sterling needed to get his shit together before he even thought about another person. He sighed heavily. Why did everything always look so miserable at night? He stared at the ceiling through the darkness of his room, focusing on his breathing, forcing a calm, just like he’d taught himself when he was in a war zone. Mortars and guns sounding in the distance, yet you had to catch some sleep when possible.

  He gave a humorless laugh. Certainly, if he could sleep through that, he could get through this.

  Yet sometimes, the thoughts inside were louder than bombs exploding outside.

  And he wondered if maybe he had traded one battlefield for another.

  One war for another.

  He wasn’t dodging bullets.

  But he was fighting a real enemy.

  And it scared him shitless to think that the person he was fighting was himself.

  Because how did you win?

  Was it even possible?

  He’d expected to experience some PTSD, but what he hadn’t expected was for it to take the form of learning how to deal with everyday life.

  It was a special kind of messed up that he could deal with life and death, but couldn’t deal with the normal.

  Sighing, he closed his eyes and focused on something good, anything good.

  And the first thing that came to mind was Harper.

  Her smile, her sassy-ass streak that both frustrated him and made him so damn aroused that sometimes he couldn’t think straight around her.

  Her bravery, and the fact that she just wouldn’t give up.

  On herself.

  Or him.

  He wouldn’t see her for a few days, and the thought struck a chord. He’d kind of grown used to seeing her regularly. But maybe this was good, healthy even.

  Distance.

  Then maybe he wouldn’t do anything stupid.

  Like kiss her again.

  And have the kiss only be the beginning. />
  Damn, now he was aroused and sleepless.

  Fan-freaking-tastic.

  He groaned as he rolled over in bed, trying to focus his thoughts away from Harper.

  Yet the more he tried to not think of her, the more insistent his body became.

  Her lips.

  The way her green eyes squinted when she smiled.

  That sexy round ass that always stole all his attention.

  He tossed the covers off once more and stalked to the bathroom.

  A cold shower wasn’t exactly relaxing, but it would get his mind off, well, everything.

  He sucked in a breath when the cold water hit him and realized that his leg had stopped throbbing.

  But he suspected he’d simply traded one sleepless reason for another.

  One he couldn’t exactly medicate away.

  Because the issue wasn’t with his leg. It was with his heart.

  Hours later, Sterling blinked as his alarm clock sounded. His eyes were grainy from the lack of sleep, but at least he’d finally gotten a little bit of shuteye after his cold shower.

  It wasn’t enough, but it was better than nothing.

  He and Laken had to be gone by eight a.m. if they were to make it to Harbor View Medical Center before one. Traffic was always questionable in Seattle, and you never wanted to cut it close.

  Damn, he hated the big city.

  “You awake?” Laken knocked on his door, speaking from the other side.

  “Yup.”

  “Good. Coffee’s on.” He heard her walk away and down the hall.

  Coffee, and lots of it, would be necessary today. His leg only protested slightly as he got up from bed. The pain medication still working, he was thankful for how it kept the edge off.

  Sterling decided to forego a shower since he had taken a late one in the middle of the night. He threw on a gray T-shirt and carefully slid on some dark denim jeans.

  As he went down the hall, the aroma of eggs and bacon greeted him.

  He entered the kitchen with a smirk. “Cyler cooking again?”

  His sister glared from her seat at the kitchen table. “Do you want me to cook breakfast?” She smiled sweetly. “I’ll do it....” She spoke the words as a threat.

  And a threat they were.

  “No, no I’m good.” Sterling quickly backpedaled. He loved his sister, and she was talented at many things.