by Susan Fox
Sally glanced at Ben. “He’s the person to thank.” She swallowed. “I guess we both owe him a thank-you.”
“Jeez, ladies,” he said. “Don’t make a big deal of it. Sally, we’d better get going.”
“Okay. Heather, my cell’s in my pocket. Call if anything, I mean anything, worries you the least little bit.”
“You bet.”
Somewhat reassured that Ryland Riding would survive the evening, and hoping she did the same, Sally walked beside Ben to where she parked her truck and horse trailer. His rig was there too, on a piece of flat ground with a view across rolling grasslands to the distant hills. As she’d suggested, he’d run a hose to the closest water tap.
“Want to take my truck?” he asked. It was unhitched from the trailer.
Her old truck almost never got used, and each time she turned the key in the ignition she said a silent prayer that the engine would turn over. Still, she eyed his sling. “Are you sure you should be driving?”
“Hasn’t stopped me yet.”
“Well, then, thanks.” She climbed up into the passenger side of his truck.
When he got in the driver’s side, a flutter of anxiety and excitement quickened her breath. This was the first time in forever that she’d been in a vehicle with a man. Even when she was married, she’d held down the fort at Ryland Riding while Pete did the few errands that required leaving. If she mentioned this to Ben, he’d think she was even odder than he already did.
Ben glanced at Sally, all the way over by the passenger window. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap and her face muscles looked tense as she stared straight ahead. He wanted to touch her arm or leg to offer reassurance, but figured she wouldn’t take it in a good way. Besides, he needed his right hand on the steering wheel.
Speaking over a Faith Hill song that was playing on the radio, he said, “Stop having second thoughts.”
Sally’s mouth twitched, not with humor but with a grimace.
He really didn’t get her behavior. On the phone, she’d sounded genuinely affectionate with Dave and his new wife. Yet she’d tried to avoid this dinner. Was it because of Ben? Did she not want to introduce him to these people? Or was her reluctance somehow linked to her comments about not going to town and not having clothes other than work ones?
He turned down the radio. “Tell me a little about your friends.”
“Dave Cousins was born here. He owns the Wild Rose Inn, which he restored.”
“I saw that place. He did a great job.”
She nodded. “He’s married to Cassidy Esperanza—she kept her own surname—and he has a twelve-year-old daughter, Robin, who’ll be there tonight.”
“He has a daughter? From a previous marriage?”
“Yes. He and Cassidy have just come back from their honeymoon. He and his ex, Jess, share custody of Robin. Jess remarried a few years ago, and she and Evan have a little boy.” Sally’s voice relaxed as she spoke. Now she was glancing around, taking in the hay fields and ranch land broken by occasional houses and outbuildings.
“Jess remarried quite a while before Dave did.”
“Dave was engaged to a woman who was diagnosed with brain cancer. Anita died and it shattered him. He couldn’t imagine ever loving another woman.”
When she stopped speaking, Ben glanced over and saw that she’d pressed her lips together and was frowning. Was she remembering Pete? He sure wished he knew the truth about their marriage. Had Pete been an abuser, or the love of Sally’s life? Had his death shattered her? If so, that might have forged a bond between her and Dave. “But he did move on,” he said.
Her face softened; her lips curved. “Cassidy came to town last summer, intending to stay only a few months. She was a drifter with no real home. She got a job at the inn and she and Dave fell for each other. She stopped drifting and he found that he could love again.”
It was a nice story, and he liked the way Sally’s face warmed in telling it. “How do all of them get along?” Ben’s family life was so straightforward compared to Dave’s.
“Really well. I’m sure that’s partly due to Dave. He’s a genuine good guy.” Again, Ben heard real affection in her voice.
He envied the man who’d won Sally’s trust and friendship. Turning onto the now-familiar road into town, he said, “You said you and Dave were never an item?”
She shook her head. “Never. After Anita died, he was heartbroken and had absolutely no interest in dating. Neither did I.”
Because she was heartbroken after Pete died? Or because her husband had taught her to mistrust relationships? He wondered if Sally had confided the truth to Dave.
After a minute or two, Sally said quietly, “I was surprised when he took up with Cassidy. I didn’t think he’d ever . . .”
When she didn’t finish the thought, Ben asked, “Ever what?”
“Risk that kind of heartbreak again.”
Was that what Sally was afraid of, or was there something else she didn’t want to risk? As a friend, Ben wanted to see this attractive, mature woman come alive with the young Sally’s sparkle and confidence. As a man, he sure wouldn’t mind if she took her first steps forward with him. He’d never be the right man, long term, for her. Sally owned a big spread, a successful business. She needed a guy who was settled and successful in his own right. An equal partner, not a cowboy who spent most of his year traveling from rodeo to rodeo.
But for the short term, Ben could sure handle getting to know Sally a lot more intimately. Too bad she didn’t seem to share that interest.
“Take the main street,” she directed. “They live at the Wild Rose.”
“That’s different, living at a hotel.”
“It lets Dave and Cassidy be close to work. He converted some rooms on the top floor into an owner’s suite.”
Ben found parking near the liquor store. “Figure we should pick up a bottle of wine. Or beer?”
“I didn’t think of that.” She sounded subdued. Nervous again.
Together, they went into the store. Ben asked the salesclerk for a recommendation, and bought a chilled bottle of sparkling wine from the Okanagan. While he was paying, Sally checked her phone.
“Nothing from Heather?” he asked, and she shook her head.
Five minutes later, they walked into the Wild Rose Inn. The décor matched up with the picturesque exterior. A little rustic, a little classy; mostly, it looked attractive and comfortable. Photos from gold rush days decorated the walls, as they had at the diner he’d visited a few days ago.
They took the elevator to the fourth floor and walked to the end of the hall. Ben rang the bell and a moment later the door swung open.
He gazed down at a bright-eyed, smiling adolescent girl. She wore jeans and a tee with running horses on it, and had chestnut hair pulled back in a ponytail. Beside her stood a large black poodle, its curly coat cropped close, its tail wagging.
“Hi, Sally,” the girl said. Then, to him, “You’re Ben Traynor. I recognize you from your pictures.”
“And you must be Robin. What pictures?”
“I checked you out on the Internet. You’re, like, famous!”
“Not quite. And sometimes the broncs get the best of me.” He gestured toward his shoulder, which was sore but not as bad as yesterday.
“Everyone falls off a horse now and then,” Robin said. “Even me.”
He exchanged amused glances with Sally as Robin went on. “Come on in. Leave your boots by the door. This is Merlin, he’s friendly. You’re okay with dogs, right?”
“Definitely okay with dogs.” He let the animal smell his hand, and then patted it.
Sally greeted Robin and stroked the dog, too. By the time she and Ben had pulled off their boots, a man and woman had joined them. Sally made the introductions, and Ben shook hands with Cassidy first, and then Dave—both of them giving him firm, straightforward shakes.
Sally’s friend Dave Cousins, a tall, sandy-haired guy in jeans and a green Western shirt, was a surprise. B
en had expected an older guy, someone less fit and outdoorsy looking. Dave looked to be thirtyish, yet he’d renovated and now ran this impressive hotel, and he had a twelve-year-old daughter.
His wife, Cassidy Esperanza, was a slender, beautiful woman about Sally’s height. She had Latina blood to go along with that surname. There was something a little exotic about her olive skin, the shape of her blue-gray eyes, and the shiny cap of black hair. That hint of the exotic made a nice contrast to her Western-style jeans and pale blue snap-front shirt with darker blue embroidery.
“I apologize for not dressing up more,” Sally said. “But all I have is work clothes.”
“No worries,” Cassidy said. “But if you ever want to shop, check out Days of Your. It’s a thrift shop. My friend Maribeth owns it. She has awesome clothes, amazing prices, and she supports some wonderful charities. I get almost all my clothes there.”
“You do?” Sally said. “I had no idea. You always look so great.”
“Women,” Dave said. “One minute together and they’re talking about clothes.”
Ben hoped Sally would listen to the younger woman’s advice. Not that Sally didn’t look pretty, but he wouldn’t mind seeing her in the kind of figure-flattering clothes she used to wear. What kind of woman only owned farm-work clothes?
“I’d rather talk about horses,” Robin said. “They’re way more interesting than clothes. I want to hear all about the rodeo, Mr. Traynor.”
He wrinkled his nose. “I’d rather you call me Ben, if that’s all right with your parents.”
“We’re pretty informal,” Dave said. “Ben it is. Now come on in and sit down.” He led the way into a fair-sized living room. The furniture was nice, but it was just a foundation that this family had built on. A vase of flowers, family photos, travel books and photos, a crocheted afghan, horse books and artwork, and other odds and ends made this a home.
The horse paintings drew Ben. The style was youthful, but he saw genuine talent and an understanding of horses. After checking the signatures, he said, “Robin, I like your art. Those are real horses. You captured the spirit, and some artists don’t.”
“Thanks!” She beamed. “I love horses.”
“I can tell.”
Sally, Ben, and Cassidy sat down and Robin curled up on the rug by her stepmom’s feet. Starving, Ben eyed the large bowl of tortilla chips and smaller bowls of salsa and guacamole on the coffee table.
Dave, who’d remained standing, said, “Let’s have a drink. Dinner’s in the oven. Cassidy makes great baked chiles rellenos. I hope you like Mexican food.”
“Love it,” Ben said, and Sally agreed.
“We brought wine,” Ben said, reaching over to hand Dave the bottle.
“Thanks.”
Cassidy said, “Oh, yum. Bubbles! Is it chilled? Yes? Open that one now, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Dave said. “Dig in, everyone. I’ll be back with glasses. Sally, what would you like to drink?” The man clearly knew that Sally didn’t drink alcohol.
Her forehead creased as she glanced at the bottle in Dave’s hand, then she said, “I’ll have some of the bubbly, please.”
Dave’s mouth opened, and Cassidy shot a quick glance from Sally to her husband. “Sure,” he said.
Ben held back a smile at this small triumph. He loved seeing Sally loosen up.
He dug a chip into the salsa, and the others followed his example. After several bites, he and Sally complimented the delicious salsa and guacamole.
Robin fielded the compliment. “We make it ourselves, the way Anita did.”
Surprised by the mention of Dave’s deceased fiancée, Ben glanced at Cassidy and saw her smile warmly at the girl. “We sure do.”
That was actually a pretty healthy attitude. Dave had loved Anita and no doubt so had Robin. By talking about her, they kept her memory warm in their hearts. Whereas Sally avoided mentioning Pete. If memories were too painful, was it the pain of loss or another kind of pain?
Dave returned with five flute glasses. One, which he handed to Robin, was already filled with golden liquid. He fetched an ice bucket, then deftly opened the wine, poured, and passed out the other glasses. He put the bottle in the ice bucket and sat on the couch beside his wife.
Cassidy hoisted her glass. “Sally, it’s great to have you here. And Ben, it’s wonderful to meet you.”
They all clicked glasses and drank. Although Ben was mostly a beer man, he enjoyed the fruity dryness and slight fizz of this wine. “It’s kind of you to invite—” He stopped before saying “us,” which might imply he and Sally were a couple. She wouldn’t like that, though he sure wouldn’t mind if it were true. After clearing his throat, he finished, “To invite me. Especially when you only recently got back from your honeymoon. Sally said you went to Italy?”
“Yes,” Cassidy said. “I’d been there before but it was wonderful seeing it with Dave. We rented a car, which was total luxury for me. I’ve always traveled by bus or thumb.” She made a hitchhiker’s gesture.
Her husband linked fingers with her. “I’ve always been a planner and she’s a gypsy, so we compromised. We had hotel reservations in Rome for the first two nights, and then took it from there. We’d pick a direction, stop anywhere that appealed to us, and in the late afternoon we’d hunt for an interesting place to stay.”
“Which Dave then insisted on checking out online,” Cassidy teased.
“And we always ended up in nice places, didn’t we?” he teased back. “I even made some industry contacts.”
Cassidy winked at him. “Which made for some tax deductions. He loved that part.”
“I loved all of it.” The gaze he turned on her made it clear that what he loved most of all was his wife.
Ben felt a twinge of envy. If he and Jana, his ex-girlfriend in Alberta, had felt that way about each other, would they have found a compromise? But then compromising on how to take a holiday was very different from compromising on how to live your life. Jana would never have given up her job and her comfortable way of life to drive around to rodeos with him, and he couldn’t imagine quitting rodeo yet.
Conversation stayed on the topic of the trip as they made significant inroads into the snacks on the table. He noticed Sally sneaking a couple of peeks at her phone.
Cassidy asked, “Have you ever been to Europe, Ben?”
“No.” Nor had he had any particular desire to go. Australia, yes, because they had rodeo. “Lots of places in Canada and the States, though. Wherever there was a pro rodeo, right, Sally?” He smiled over at her.
She returned the smile, giving him an alluring flash of the old Sally Pantages. “True.”
“Huh?” Robin said.
“Didn’t Sally ever tell you she was a barrel racer?” he asked. Did the woman share any personal information with people?
“You were? Wow!” Robin gazed at Sally as if she’d hung the stars.
“Yup,” Sally said. “Until I was twenty-five.”
“She won an impressive number of buckles, too,” Ben put in.
“That’s so exciting!” the girl cried. “I want to hear all about it.”
“So do I,” Cassidy said. “But dinner’s ready, so let’s move into the dining room first. Robin, will you help me in the kitchen?” She rose and walked down the hall with Robin tagging along.
Dave stood. “The dining room’s this way.”
Ben followed him, but Sally hung back in the living room and Ben heard her quietly say, “Heather?”
The dining room held a rustic oak table set with colorful woven place mats and five place settings. Extra wooden chairs lined one wall, suggesting that the table must have an extension leaf that allowed it to seat more people. On the walls hung half a dozen architect’s sketches and photos documenting the restoration of the hotel. Ben walked closer to study them.
“D’you mind me asking how old you are?” he asked Dave.
“Thirty-one. Why?”
“It’s amazing what you’ve accomplished wit
h this hotel.”
“I started in my teens. I loved the beaten-up old girl and made it my mission to restore her beauty.”
Teenaged Ben had made it his mission in life to win at Canadian Finals Rodeo. He’d achieved that twice, but this year his goal was the same damned thing. He had to admit, people like Sally and Dave made him feel like he hadn’t done much with his life. But there was nothing wrong with loving rodeo. He just needed to get back on the circuit and hang out with like-minded folk chasing similar dreams.
Sally joined the two men in the dining room. Ben sent her a questioning glance, and she nodded to confirm that all was well.
Dave seated Ben at one end of the table and Sally to his right. Robin came in with glasses of ice water and sat beside Sally. Cassidy brought a serving dish of chiles rellenos, which smelled spicy and delicious, and took the seat across from Sally and Robin. “Help yourselves,” she said, and they began to serve out the food. Dave refilled the flutes, then seated himself opposite Ben at the other end of the table.
After Ben’s first bite, he said, “Man, this is good, Cassidy.”
“Thanks. It’s Justine’s—my mom’s—recipe. My dad is Mexican. They met there, then he moved to Canada and married her.”
Dave stifled a snort, and Robin said cheerfully, “And married her, and married her.”
“Excuse me?” Ben said.
“Three times,” the girl said. “But that’s it. They’re staying together now.”
“Amazingly enough, that seems to be true,” Cassidy said. “Anyhow, Justine learned some Mexican recipes. That’s the short story. With our family, it’s best to stick to the short stories. The long ones are pretty convoluted.”
“I want to talk about rodeo,” Robin said firmly. “Everyone keeps changing the subject.” She turned to Sally. “I can’t believe you quit barrel racing. Why did you do that?”
Chapter Ten
Sally gazed at the bright-eyed girl who sat to her right. “I quit because I got married, Robin.” And that was enough of that story. She took a sip of wine. This bubbly stuff went down far too easily.
