Love Somebody Like You

by Susan Fox

  Yeah, it was obvious she’d loved Pete like crazy and Ben figured she was missing him like crazy, too. But Pete was gone. That was the cold, hard truth. And Sally still had a whole lot of life ahead of her. Ben’s grandma had pulled out of the sorrow, and she’d been in her seventies. Sally, barely more than thirty, should have smile lines, not ones of tension and sadness. If there was anything he could do to put them there, he wanted to do it.

  Tucked away behind the barn was a small foaling paddock. Ben hung back as Sally went over to the fence, tugging a carrot from her pocket. A very pregnant palomino ambled over to take it from her hand. “How’s it going, Song?” Sally murmured.

  The horse ducked her head, munched, then wandered off toward a grove of cottonwoods.

  “Hmm,” Sally said. “Usually she stays to be stroked. I think she’s getting near her time.”

  Ben moved up slowly beside her. “You’re keeping her outside, not putting her in a stall?”

  Still watching the horse, Sally said, “My vet recommends it. It’s more natural and healthier, with less risk of infection.”

  “The trainer I work for does it that way, too. It makes sense. Let a horse do it the natural way.” He glanced at her profile. “You moved her to the foaling paddock awhile ago?” The mare needed time to build up antibodies against that environment in her colostrum. That first milk would contain immune cells essential to her foal’s health.

  Sally turned to him with a smile. “Yes. I have an excellent vet, Ben.”

  He gave a soft laugh. “Sorry, I don’t mean to sound like I’m telling you how to do your job.” And that reminded him . . . “On that subject.” He pulled a scrap of paper from his shirt pocket. “I don’t know if you’re taking new students.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I met this guy in the physio’s waiting room. He’d like to talk to you. I realized I didn’t have your phone number to give him.”

  “About lessons for his son or daughter?” She unfolded the paper.

  “No, him. He’s—”

  “I don’t usually teach men. Just kids and women.”

  Because she didn’t feel safe alone with a man? “He seems like a nice guy. Used to be big into running, but now he needs to avoid high-impact exercise. He and his husband are both interested in riding lessons.”

  “He’s gay? Married?”

  “That a problem for you?” He wouldn’t have taken Sally for a homophobe.

  “No, not at all. That’s actually better. I mean . . .” She shook her head, apparently unwilling to explain further.

  Ben guessed that a gay couple was less of a threat than a single heterosexual man. He sure wanted to get his hands on whatever jerk had made her so nervous.

  “Are they both beginners?” she asked.

  “Andrew, the guy I met, is. His husband used to ride a bit as a kid. They’ve moved here recently and his husband says they should get into riding. That’s how Andrew and I got talking, when he asked how I’d hurt my shoulder. Anyhow, I told him about Ryland Riding. He says they both want to take lessons, and if it works out they’d be looking for advice on buying horses. Then they’d want to board the horses.”

  “That could be some nice business. Thanks, Ben.”

  “No sweat.” Now that she’d relaxed, he figured he could tease her a bit. “But knowing how you hate to be beholden to anyone, I guess I should give you a chance to pay me back.”

  Her expression turned guarded. “What did you have in mind?” she asked coolly.

  So much for teasing. “How about you put together a salad with some of those veggies growing in your garden, and I’ll barbecue burgers? I picked up some ground beef at the butcher in town, and fresh buns at the bakery. Fudge brownies as well.”

  When he said “fudge brownies,” her eyes gleamed. Still, she said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m still not comfortable with you being here,” she said stiffly. “Not that I don’t appreciate the help. But if you stay, we need to work out some ground rules.”

  “Fair enough. Let’s do that over dinner.”

  The corners of her mouth twitched, then straightened. “When Corrie was here, we worked really well together, but when the work was done we went our separate ways. She was a private person like me. We didn’t get into each other’s business.”

  He cocked his head. “You lived side by side, worked together all day, but didn’t socialize? You each cooked and ate your meals by yourselves?” That sounded pretty strange and awfully lonely. And not at all like the Sally he used to know.

  She nodded. “Neither of us are very social.”

  “You used to be social. On the rodeo circuit, you were the life of the party in the bars where the cowboys and cowgirls hung out.”

  A slight, reminiscent smile warmed her face. It died quickly. “I drank too much.”

  She’d said something like that before, about alcohol making her do stupid things. He searched his memories of seven years back, and shook his head. “Not that I recall. You had fun. And I don’t just mean partying. You had friends; you cared about people and helped them out.”

  A sad, almost bleak expression darkened her pretty eyes. “I was a different person then. I can’t find my way back to being her again.”

  That wasn’t just sad, but wrong. “Sure you can. But you gotta want to. Like that little girl Amanda, determined to find a way back to being the girl she was before she lost a leg.”

  Sally’s lips opened, but no words came out. Was she mad at him? Did she want to say that losing a husband didn’t compare to losing the lower part of a leg? To his mind, loss was loss. Of course it changed you, but it didn’t have to turn you into a different person.

  Or was there something more going on with Sally, tying into her wariness around men?

  The woman fascinated him. She always had, but back then the fascination had been superficial. He had been superficial, a cocky wannabe rodeo cowboy. She’d been the queen, the glittery flame that drew all the moths. Now, the fire in her was banked down so far that he barely glimpsed a glowing ember every now and then. Damn it, he wanted to see her come to life again. He wanted to see her fire, her warmth, her passion. But if he poked too hard, he might scare her.

  “Look,” he said, “you like efficiency, right? We need to talk about ground rules. And we need to prepare dinner and eat. You do salad, I do burgers, dinner’s prepared in half the time. We talk while we eat, so we’re multitasking. And you get to share my fudge brownies.” And maybe she’d share her smile with him.

  Well, damned if it didn’t work.

  She actually gave him a grin. “You always were persuasive, Ben Traynor.”

  “Hah. The most I could persuade you into was a dance now and then.”

  “You were too young for me.”

  He chuckled. “Maybe. But you put a major dent in my ego when you pointed it out.”

  She snorted. “Someone had to. You had enough cowgirls and buckle bunnies after you. If your ego’d gotten any more swollen, it would’ve burst.” She studied his face, for once not looking guarded but curious. “You seem different now. Confident, but not so cocky.”

  “It’s been a lot of years. I did some growing up.”

  “Not all rodeo cowboys do. What with the buckle bunnies and all,” she drawled.

  “Yeah, well. Different guys want different things. When you can’t remember the name of the woman you wake up next to, seems to me there’s something wrong.”

  “You think?” she said drily. “So are you in a serious relationship now?”

  He shook his head, pleased that she was interested enough to ask. “Winter before last, after the rodeo season ended and I was back home, I dated a woman I’d gone to high school with. We got along pretty well, but she was looking to settle down and start a family. Didn’t want to do that with a guy who spent most of the year driving from rodeo to rodeo.”

  “No, I can imagine not. And for you, life’s all ab
out the rodeo?”

  “Yeah.” That was the short, easy answer.

  She nodded, apparently willing to accept that. A private person, respecting his privacy.

  Damn it, that wasn’t how he wanted things to be between them. So he went on, speaking slowly as he sorted out his thoughts. “For now. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about settling down at some point. I can see the appeal, some years down the road, of being with one woman, of raising kids and teaching them to ride.”

  “Yeah.” Something glinted in her green eyes, maybe a hint of yearning. “What kind of work would you do? Ranching?”

  A lot of rodeo cowboys were into ranching, often because their families owned a spread. “Maybe, if I make enough money to buy a ranch. My folks sold theirs a while back. It was grinding them down. Or I could train horses, maybe buy into a partnership with the guy I’ve been working for. Do some weekend rodeo and keep my hand in. It would be okay, I guess.”

  “Too bad the timing was off for you and your ex-girlfriend.”

  “It wasn’t just the timing,” he admitted. “I couldn’t see doing all that stuff with her. The kids; building a life.”

  Sally’s eyes urged him to go on.

  “Jana was great. We were pretty compatible, but there was something missing.” For him, anyhow. “I liked her a lot, but it didn’t go deeper than that.” They sure hadn’t had that “you’re my one and only” thing that Sally’d had with Pete. Not that Ben was about to mention her husband and get her all depressed again.

  Jana had made him wary about getting into another serious relationship. She’d been hurt when they broke up, even though he’d never been anything but honest. Seemed like she got some expectations into her head, and maybe felt more for him than he did for her. “The one-night stand thing’s worn thin, but I’m nowhere near ready to settle down. When I do date someone, I’m real clear that it’s just for fun, and I make sure she’s of the same mind.”

  “Seems like the best approach.” Sally smiled a little. “I always thought women were crazy if they figured they could rope a cowboy before he was good and ready. But I guess some of them just don’t understand how rodeo can get into your blood.”

  “That’s for sure. It’s one hell of a way to try to make a living, but once it’s in your blood it’s hard to give up.” He straightened, wincing as his shoulder twinged. “I’ll get my portable barbecue out, get going on those burgers.”

  She raised her forearms from the fence rail she’d been leaning on and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “If you’re going to stay,” she said slowly, “you can move your trailer to a better location. Down where my truck and horse trailer are parked.” She gestured. “You’ll find some flat ground and you’ll have a pretty view.” Then, as if she didn’t want him to think she was being too nice, she added gruffly, “And you won’t clog up my parking lot.”

  Ben suppressed a laugh. “Thanks. I’ll do that.”

  “There’s a water tap, if you want to run a hose to it. The closest electric outlet’s by the barn door, but maybe we could patch some extension cords together.”

  Yes, Sally knew all about life on the road. “I’ll take the water, but don’t worry about power. I can run my generator every now and then. Hopefully, I’d be far enough away that the noise wouldn’t bother you or the horses.”

  “That should be fine.” She cast a final look at the pregnant mare, who was grazing. “I’ll go pick salad veggies.”

  “Before I forget, give me your cell number. In case I run into any other prospective clients.”

  She did, and he input it into his phone and gave her his in exchange, and then they went their separate ways. She was so prickly nowadays, he mused. Softening every now and then, but mostly trying to keep him at a distance. Her body language was like that too: those guarded expressions, the arms crossed over her chest. Even her clothing was different. Either she’d lost weight recently, or she bought her clothes a size too large. Always a shirt over her tee, and a long-sleeved one at that. She didn’t even roll up her sleeves on a hot July afternoon. The only flesh that was visible was her work-roughened hands, her unmade-up face, the stretch of her neck, and a small curve of freckled skin not covered by the high necklines of her tee and shirt. It was almost like she wanted to disappear inside her clothes.

  Seven years ago, she’d been a vibrant, confident woman, a rodeo queen at the top of her game, passionately in love with the man of her dreams. Had Pete’s death changed her so dramatically? Or had something else happened to create this wary, closed-in woman?

  One day, she would talk to him. From what the physiotherapist had said, it would be a couple of weeks at least before he could think of rejoining Dusty. Why not spend it here? Ben knew how to be patient, although he had more experience doing it with horses than with women. Eventually, the animal trusted you. It’d be the same with Sally.

  He was smart enough to realize that he might be no more successful at hooking up with her than he’d been seven years ago, but before he left Caribou Crossing, he’d get her to smile and laugh again.

  Chapter Six

  Ben was more subtle these days, Sally reflected as she picked leaf lettuce from the garden. More effective, because he wormed his way around her defenses with logic and teasing—as well as with those warm brown eyes and flashing white smile. He was a hard man to resist.

  So had Pete been, when he’d set out to court her. She couldn’t let her guard down.

  She pulled green onions from the soil, the tender green stalks and white bulbs so fresh and appealing. Baby radishes, their red and white outsides hinting at the crisp, zippy taste inside. Carrots, vivid orange with those feathery green tops. This garden gave her an amazing amount of pleasure, on top of the fact that fresh-picked produce was almost free and tasted much better than grocery-delivered. If Ben stayed, as he seemed set on doing, she might have time to keep up with the garden. Maybe even figure out a way to deal with the deer and rabbits.

  She should e-mail Corrie and tell her how the garden was doing. And ask if things were okay with whatever personal situation had led her to quit a job she’d seemed happy with.

  Ben had pretty much come out and accused Sally of being uncaring. It wasn’t true, but with Pete she’d learned to keep her life private. That meant not asking other people about their personal lives, because they might ask questions back.

  Sally straightened and pressed a hand to her lower back. It ached a little, but wasn’t as sore as it had been before Ben started helping out.

  She took her basket of pretty vegetables into the kitchen and turned on the radio. George Strait—a rodeo cowboy himself—was singing “Check Yes or No.” She hummed along as she started putting together a salad. All she had in the fridge was ranch dressing, so hopefully Ben would be fine with that.

  The salad looked so fresh and colorful, it inspired her to make a dessert one too, cutting up an apple, an orange, and a banana. Something healthy to go along with the brownies.

  When she went outside to put the vegetable salad on the table, Ben was walking toward the house. The straps of a recyclable bag were hooked over his right forearm, and in his right hand he carried two stacked plates with three hamburgers on top. He really was adept with just one good arm.

  Adept . . . A hum of awareness rippled through her. Damn the man for having this effect on her.

  He came up the steps. “Salad looks great. It must be nice having your own garden.”

  “Or at least as much of it as the deer and rabbits are willing to share.” She relieved him of the plates, and put one of the burgers on the bottom one. “These look delicious.” Big patties of seared meat rested inside whole wheat kaiser buns. “What’s in the bag?”

  “Didn’t know what you liked.” He took out a package of cheddar cheese, a tomato, an onion, and bottles of ketchup, mustard, and pickles. “I figured we could fix our own.”

  Considerate. As he so often was. When he wasn’t poking into her private business or stirring up
her long-dormant sexuality.

  She went into the kitchen to get a cutting board and a couple of knives. Through the screened window, she called, “Want a beer?”

  “You bet.”

  She took a bottle from the fridge and paused, her hand hovering beside a second one. Decisively, she closed her fingers around it. Nothing went as well with burgers as a cold beer.

  Once she and Ben were both seated, they doctored their burgers, dished out salad, and dug in. Through the screen door and window, the radio provided easy background listening, so low that she recognized songs but didn’t really hear the words.

  “Do you like Monique?” she asked.

  “Yeah, she’s great. Totally gets what it’s like for a professional athlete. She was a figure skater. She and her pairs partner made the Olympic team.”

  Sally had never met Monique, only spoken to her over the phone. The woman always sounded competent and upbeat, and she spoke English with a charming French Canadian accent. Now, hearing about the physiotherapist’s skating career, Sally imagined an impossibly fit, beautiful, graceful, strong, determined, pretty much perfect woman. “Impressive.”

  “I know. That was back in the early nineties. They didn’t medal but she said the experience was incredible. Her partner wanted to retire afterward. Rather than start all over with a new guy, she retired, too. Found a new career.”

  So the woman was likely to be fortyish. Probably married, with kids. There was absolutely no reason Sally should find that fact reassuring.

  Ben told her more about his appointment, then asked her about her day. She told him about the trail ride with Wenda and her kids, and discussed a problem one of her barrel racing students was having. He asked good questions, listened to her, and offered suggestions but no criticism. With Pete, conversation had sometimes felt like she was being grilled or lectured, but this was . . . nice. There was a back and forth, a give and take.

  Why had she and Corrie never done this? Neither of them had sought it out, the way Ben had tonight. Sally knew her reasons. Now she wondered about Corrie’s.