Shane watched them, then shook his head. “You win. I’ll get the bridle and we’ll see what he’s willing to do.”
He disappeared into the barn, then reappeared with the bridle. Khatar walked over and stuck out his head toward the leather straps. Shane slid the bit into his mouth and then adjusted everything and handed her the reins.
“Go for it,” he said.
They circled the barn a couple of times. When Shane held open a gate to a corral, she urged the horse in that direction and he did as she asked.
“He would look amazing painted,” she said.
Shane winced. “I can trace his bloodlines back three hundred years.”
“It’s water-based paint. It would come right off.”
“That’s not much in the way of comfort.”
“I have a costume,” she offered. “If that helps.”
“It doesn’t.”
“The ceremony also includes a male sacrifice. I’m supposed to cut out a guy’s heart.” She patted Khatar’s shoulder. “Not for real, of course. Just pretend.”
“Good to know.”
“I haven’t had any volunteers.”
“Are you surprised?”
He talked her through a series of turns, then whistled the horse into a trot. The bouncing of her entire body on his bare back wasn’t pleasant, but she survived.
“Had enough?” Shane asked a half hour later.
“I think my insides have turned into a milkshake.” Annabelle pressed her hand to her stomach. “But Khatar was great. I told you he was friendly.”
“Just for you.” He grabbed the reins and led the horse to the side of the corral. “You going to be able to stand when you touch ground?”
“I’ll be fine,” she said, hoping she wasn’t lying, then eyed the horse’s bare back. “What do I hold on to as I slide down?”
“I’ll catch you.”
She was less sure about that. Mason had been big, but at least there’d been a saddle to grab on to. With Khatar there was only his mane and she had a feeling that his good mood would disappear if she used that to lower herself to the ground.
Deciding she would be safer seeing what she was about to crash into, she swung her leg over his neck and sat facing Shane, then pushed off Khatar and slid down and down until her feet touched packed earth.
For a second she managed to keep her balance. Then her thighs gave way and she started to collapse.
“Didn’t we already do this?” Shane asked, grabbing her around the waist and holding her up.
“I thought I would do better,” she admitted, putting her hands on his shoulders and willing herself to stay upright.
The tingles she’d experienced earlier returned. Along with the zings and zips from the last time she’d been riding. Although it wasn’t the riding that seemed to be a problem. It was being held by Shane. And maybe problem wasn’t the right word. Complication seemed like a better fit.
Which was really interesting, because wasn’t she the one looking for messy? And weren’t complications really close to a mess?
He didn’t wear a hat, she thought absently. Weren’t cowboys supposed to wear hats? Not that she minded. His dark hair gleamed in the bright sun. He wore it short enough that the slight wave didn’t turn into curls.
His eyes were made up of various shades of brown and there were crinkles in the corners from when he smiled. Only he wasn’t smiling now. He was looking serious and sexy.
She told herself not to look at his mouth. Or think about what that mouth could do to her. So she kept her gaze on his eyes, which turned out to be equally dangerous, because it seemed to her a woman could get lost in his gaze. Get lost and never find her way back.
* * *
“I WAS AN IDIOT,” Annabelle said, poking at her salad with her fork. “I stood there like a fifteen-year-old with a crush on the football captain.”
“Did you babble?” Charlie asked before taking a bite of her burger.
“No. I ran. As soon as I could safely move without my legs giving way, I ran to my car and left.”
Charlie chewed, then swallowed. “I would have paid money to see that.”
“This is not you being supportive.”
They were having a quick lunch at the Fox and Hound. Annabelle had felt the need to confess her reaction and knew she could trust Charlie to keep the information to herself. Normally she would have told Heidi, too, but with Heidi engaged to Shane’s brother, it was feeling a little too incestuous as it was.
“So you wanted to have your way with Shane,” Charlie said. “Big deal.”
“I didn’t,” Annabelle protested, then dropped her fork. “Fine. I did. But I can’t. He’s teaching me to ride.”
“So? He’s a good-looking single guy. Last time I checked, you were single. What’s the big deal? He’s not a relative or your priest.”
“No, but…” She picked up her fork again. “This was easier when I worried he’d been dropped on his head.”
“Excuse me?”
“Never mind.” She took a sip of her iced tea. “All I wanted was to learn to ride well enough to do the traditional dance of the female warrior. It’s not a big dream, I know, but it was mine.”
“You’re still going to learn to ride. Shane will teach you. And if you’re very good, he’ll show you his manroot.”
Annabelle burst out laughing. “His what?”
Charlie grinned. “Okay, better. I couldn’t stand seeing you all depressed. You found a guy who probably thinks you’re hot. You want him. That’s good. Quit beating yourself up over that.”
“Manroot?”
“I read it somewhere.”
“I don’t think I want to ask where.” Her mood restored, she took a big bite of her salad.
Charlie was right. So she found Shane attractive. Lots of guys were. As to the tingles, she would think about them. Sure, he was a little too hung up on his ex, but that was all about passion, right? As long as he was totally over her. Because a man capable of that much feeling was the kind who put it all on the line.
“You’re about to launch into a recap of your pathetic love life, aren’t you?” Charlie picked up her burger. “Not every guy is your ex.”
“I know. No recap, I promise. This despite the fact that I married Lewis. I dated him, I trusted him, I thought I fell in love with him and I agreed to spend the rest of my life with him.”
“Are you sorry you left?”
“No. Of course not.”
Lewis had been older, by twelve years, a somewhat successful, nearly famous author. He’d impressed her with his intelligence, his worldliness. He’d traveled everywhere, had lots of interesting stories. He was always the center of attention, so when he noticed her, she felt special. Wanted.
But she’d discovered that Lewis’s stories were more fiction than truth and that while he seemed to know about many different topics, his information was superficial at best. He’d personified the concept of all flash and no substance.
“It took me a long time to figure out he wasn’t what I thought,” she admitted. “That he never really loved me, he loved what I represented.”
“The trophy wife?” Charlie asked dryly.
“A little. Which is strange because he was always telling me that I was lucky he’d married me. That no one else would want me.”
“Have you looked in the mirror?”
“Not lately.”
“You should.”
Annabelle smiled. “You’re a good friend.”
“I know. You should be sending me gifts and tweeting about my virtues on a daily basis.” She picked up a French fry. “We all have secrets.”
“What are yours?” Annabelle asked, not expecting an answer.
Charlie shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”
Annabelle stared at her. “Want to elaborate?”
As a rule, Charlie didn’t talk all that much about her past. Annabelle knew that her friend hadn’t grown up in the area. That she was from somewhere back
east. There had been hints of a difficult mother and a father who had died unexpectedly. But little else.
Charlie took a deep breath and seemed to steady herself before answering. “I was date-raped in college.”
Annabelle’s stomach clenched and the small amount of food she’d already eaten lurched threateningly. “No,” she breathed. “I’m so sorry.”
Charlie shrugged. “It happens.”
“No, it doesn’t. That’s awful.” She didn’t have a lot of experience with the topic and wasn’t sure what to say. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No. Yes.” Charlie rubbed her forehead. “This is why I don’t usually mention it. It’s done and over. Only I can’t seem to move on.”
She drew in a breath. “I went on a date in college with this really good-looking guy. He played football and was a senior. The whole cliché thing, right? But I didn’t see it coming.”
Annabelle winced. “You thought he really liked you.”
“Exactly. Instead, he was using me for sex. Things went further than I wanted and when I tried to stop him, he raped me. I was a virgin and it was horrible.”
“Did you report him?”
Charlie’s mouth twisted. “Oh, yeah. I went to campus police and they brought him in. I was smart enough not to shower. There was DNA evidence.”
“Then I don’t understand. If you had proof…”
Charlie looked past her. “They didn’t believe me,” she said flatly. “I heard him talking to the cops. He actually laughed and said to look at me, then look at him. Was there even one person who wouldn’t believe I’d have to be begging him before he would put out?”
She returned her gaze to Annabelle. “The police had called my mother. When she showed up and met him, she came and told me it was rude to lead a guy on. And that I shouldn’t lie about something like being raped.”
Charlie’s expression never changed. Except for the tension in her mouth, there were no hints that something was wrong. Only Annabelle could guess the truth. That Charlie had been devastated, as anyone would be. But her pain had been worse because no one had taken her side and those she trusted most had thought it was a joke.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Yeah? Me, too.” Charlie picked up her burger, then put it down. “I keep telling myself it was a long time ago. That I’m over it. And I am. Sort of. But it’s why I don’t date.”
“You’re afraid to trust anyone.”
“A guy,” Charlie corrected. “I trust my female friends.”
Annabelle raised her eyebrows. “And yet you don’t want to date any of us.”
Charlie grinned. “You offering?”
“No, but I could ask around.”
“I’ll pass.”
“You haven’t dated at all since the attack?”
“A little. But it never goes anywhere.” Charlie’s smile faded. “It’s not like guys are lining up to ask or anything.”
“That’s because you make sure they know you’re not interested.” Annabelle turned the information over in her mind. “So you haven’t, um, you know, done it since?”
Charlie shook her head. “Why would I want to? It was horrible. Everything about that night was terrifying. It’s not like I miss it, right?”
Only her tone was slightly wistful.
Annabelle touched her hand. “You’re the strongest person I know, Charlie. And the bravest. You can’t let that jerk win.”
“He’s not.”
“Yes, he is. You’ve shut off an important part of yourself because of him. Maybe you don’t want to get married and have a family, but at least you owe it to yourself to find out. There are plenty of nice guys out there.”
“Do you see me with a nice guy?”
“At this point, I think it would be a very good idea.”
“He’s not winning,” Charlie repeated, but she sounded less sure. “I refuse to let him win.”
“Better,” Annabelle told her. “Have you thought about talking to a professional?”
Charlie rolled her eyes. “Therapy? Hardly. I’d rather take out my issues on a punching bag.”
“Or the guy in question?”
“He’s not worth it.” Charlie sighed. “You’re right. I’ve ignored what happened for years. I guess I need to work through it or something and move on.”
“How can I help?”
“You’re doing it just by listening. Thanks.”
Annabelle nodded and returned to her salad. She no longer felt like eating, but knew that if she didn’t, Charlie would get on her case.
Although she hated what had happened to her friend, she was glad she knew the truth. The situation explained a lot about Charlie’s attitude on everything from trust to men. She had a long road back to find something close to normal. Still, Annabelle was confident she would get there and that her friends would want to make sure that happened.
* * *
“THANKS FOR MEETING ME,” Shane said as Annabelle got out of her car and walked toward him.
“You were very cryptic,” she said with a laugh. “How could I resist?”
Sunlight suited her, he thought, bracing himself for the inevitable rush of wanting. It delivered right on cue, as he took in the soft wavy curls, the pale skin and temptation in her green eyes. Heat flared, desire exploded and he found himself wishing they were alone someplace quiet and dark. Like his bedroom. Or hers. He wasn’t picky.
Instead they were in a parking lot outside his contractor’s office. In the middle of the day. On the edge of downtown Fool’s Gold. Not exactly the place for a rendezvous. Not that Annabelle was offering.
She approached on her ridiculously high-heeled sandals, her skirt flirting with her thighs. Her T-shirt was simple and shouldn’t have been sexy, but was, hugging curves in a way that made his mouth water.
She stopped in front of him and waited, obviously expecting him to explain why he’d asked her to join him here.
“I need help,” he said, hoping she didn’t realize how true that statement was. “I told you before, I’m having a house built, along with stables and corrals. I can handle the horse-related decisions. I know how big I want the stalls, where the windows will be placed and all the hardware I need for their safety.”
She smiled. “That’s good because I wouldn’t have a clue. So what’s the problem?”
“The house. Jocelyn keeps emailing lists of questions I have to answer and I don’t have a clue. Do you know how many light fixtures there are in a kitchen alone? Overhead, pendant, under counter. There are switches and finishes and appliances. Paint colors, flooring.” He didn’t want to think about it all. “I don’t have time.”
“Or interest,” Annabelle said with a grin. “Poor Shane. You’re such a guy.”
“Meaning?”
“You really do want a house kit. One that comes fully finished and all you have to do is pick the color of beige you want the walls before you move in.”
“What’s wrong with beige?”
She laughed.
He hadn’t been kidding with the question, but okay.
“I take it Jocelyn is your contractor?” she asked.
“Yes. She’s ready to break ground on the house, but I haven’t approved the plans. I thought about asking my mom for help, but she and Glen are traveling and Heidi’s busy with the wedding.” There was more he wanted to say but he was having trouble remembering it. There was something about the way she looked at him. It made him want to pull her close and…
He cleared his throat. “You’d mentioned you really like to decorate. If you help me with the house, I won’t charge you for the riding lessons.”
Her green eyes brightened. “Seriously? I have a donation to pay for them, but I could put the money into the bookmobile fund. That would be so great.” She paused. “Are you sure? I feel like you wouldn’t be getting your money’s worth.”
“It’s a lot of house.”
“Then sure. I’m happy to help.” She moved close and lin
ked arms with him. “Can we get a pink tub in the master? I’ve always wanted a pink tub.”
Her breast pressed into his arm. He tried telling himself he wasn’t sixteen anymore and that this wouldn’t be the highlight of his day. But there were parts that didn’t believe him.
“No pink.”
“But it’s pretty.”
They headed for the office.
Once inside, he carefully stepped away, needing the distance. He couldn’t think when she was close and if he wasn’t careful, he would be agreeing to a pink tub.
Jocelyn, a no-nonsense woman in her early fifties, was waiting for him in her small office. She looked capable, managed her crew with a fair but firm attitude and had agreed to a clause in the contract that basically gave him her firstborn if she didn’t complete the stable on time. Just as good, she’d come highly recommended.
“This is Annabelle,” he said by way of introduction.
“You didn’t tell me you were married,” Jocelyn said, holding out her callused hand. “I always need to meet the wife. I know who’s the real power player in a relationship.”
Annabelle laughed. “Not the wife. Just a friend who’s going to help Shane with all the girly stuff.”
They shook hands. Jocelyn grinned. “Got frightened by the list of finishes, right?”
“It was a longer list than I was expecting,” he admitted.
“It always is.” Jocelyn ran her hand through her short-cropped gray hair. “My advice is to give him maybe three choices in every category. No more. Men can’t handle it.”
Shane wanted to protest being talked about like that, but his bringing Annabelle along to help sort of proved Jocelyn’s point.
She led them into a conference room where the plans were laid out on a huge table.
“I need approval on the size of the house,” she said, pointing to two chairs next to each other. “We can move walls around if need be, but I want to start pulling permits and reserving equipment. In a perfect world, we’d dig out the foundation in a couple of weeks, when we start on the stables.”
“You can get started that fast?” Annabelle asked, taking a seat.
“If I get a little cooperation. This one knew everything he wanted in the stable, down to the paint color in the office. But I’d swear, he’s never been in a house before.”
Summer Nights Page 6
