by Susan Fox
His brow furrowed. “So was it the temporary nature, or that it was me, or both?”
Unsure what he was asking, she rested her forearms on the table and was about to ask for clarification, but the waitress arrived with their appetizers. Sally removed her arms and sat back, waiting impatiently. Though her shrimp and avocado salad and his wild mushroom soup looked scrumptious, she was more interested in the baffling conversation.
As soon as the waitress left, Sally said, “Ben, I’m not sure what you’re asking.”
“If you’d been sleeping with someone like Dave or Evan, would you have been so concerned about keeping it a secret?”
“What?!” Aghast, she gaped at him. “I would never sleep with a married man.”
He groaned. “Jesus, sorry, that’s not what I meant. I mean, a guy who’s successful, has his own business. Versus a guy who tries to scrape out a living as a cowboy.”
How many times had her mouth fallen open tonight? She’d lost count, but it did it again. “You think I care about a man’s status? His income?”
“Well, I mean, look at you. You deserve a guy like you.”
“I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.” And if he hadn’t softened his comment with the word deserve, she well might have upended the bottle of bubbly over his head. “What does ‘like me’ mean?” Did he think she was status-conscious? Good Lord, did he know her at all?
“You own this huge chunk of beautiful land. You operate a thriving business and—”
Her disbelieving laugh stopped him. “You think I’m rich and successful?”
“Well, not exactly rich, but—”
“Ben, you idiot.”
“Uh . . .”
She’d always been too embarrassed about her financial situation to share it with anyone. But she loved Ben, and she had to come clean. “That land I own? It’s really the bank that owns it. My equity in it is tiny. Things have improved in the last weeks, but before that I often had to scramble to make the mortgage payment. Often, it’s been an insane, sleepless-night juggling act to keep my bills up-to-date enough that no one cuts off services.”
She stared straight into his eyes. “I’ve always worried that one day the bank would foreclose and my horses, hens, and I would be homeless.”
“Shit, Sally,” he breathed. “I had no idea. You never told me any of this.”
“There was no reason to. My financial issues are my problem.”
“I wish you’d shared them. But I know you value being self-sufficient.”
“Because Pete made me dependent on him. Thanks for understanding. And Ben, I’m getting used to the idea that friends enjoy helping friends.”
“That’s good to hear.”
For the next few minutes, they ate their appetizers in silence, taking occasional sips of champagne. Finally, she said, “Ben, I hope you know that I don’t care if a man is wealthy. It’s who he is inside that counts. What kind of a man he is. Decent, hardworking.” She smiled a little, thinking of all Ben’s wonderful qualities. “Supportive. Good with horses and children.”
His lips quirked up. “Handy with a hoof pick?”
“That one’s essential.” Did he realize she’d been describing him? Did she dare carry on and tell him that he was her image of the perfect man—and not only because of all his attributes but because of the way he made her heart and body sing?
As the waitress cleared the empty appetizer plates, served the main courses, and topped up their glasses, hope surged in Ben. He was all those things Sally wanted, wasn’t he? Of course she’d left out what he figured was the single most important thing: love. His ex-girlfriend Jana had had loads of positive attributes, but he’d never felt anything more heart-tugging than affection. Though she’d wanted him to leave the rodeo and get a steady job at home, being with her hadn’t made him want to do that.
Sally tasted her salmon dish. He sampled his beef stroganoff. They traded tastes. The food was great. So was the champagne and the restaurant. The bouquet of flowers smelled just fine.
He’d done all these things—the fancy restaurant, champagne, and flowers—to set a scene that was as close as possible to what he’d planned to do when he went back to Caribou Crossing. To make it romantic, to show Sally how much she meant to him, to prove he was more than a burgers and beer guy.
How was he doing? “Those qualities you were listing off,” he said. How to phrase this without sounding swelled-headed? “They, uh, sound kind of like me.”
“Yes, they do.” She pressed her lips together and worried them around.
But he had more to offer her than just being a hardworking guy. He had a business concept, even if it wasn’t a fleshed out plan yet. Afraid of what she might say when she finally stopped twisting her lips together, he blurted out, “What do you think of rodeo schools?”
She stared at him. Blinked. Shook her head slightly, making her silver feather earrings dance and brush her slender neck. “What do I think of them?”
“Do you think they’re a good idea?”
“Sure. There aren’t enough places for cowboys and cowgirls to get proper training.”
He nodded. “You can do all sorts of things with a rodeo school. For example, train the kids who are just getting into it.” He took a bite of beef.
“Yes, they need a place where they can get started on the right foot.”
He nodded. “And a rodeo school can take amateurs who’ve started out on the circuit, and help them hone their skills.”
“Even pros go to rodeo school. When they’re in a slump, or working on a particular problem, or after an injury. Or to get a fresh perspective, move to the next level.”
“I’ve done that a time or two,” he said. “But there aren’t enough schools. And it costs a lot to travel all the way across the country to attend one. Especially if you compete in a timed event and need to bring your horse.” He polished off the final bites of his meal.
“True,” she said.
“Some schools take complete beginners,” he mused, thinking about the websites he’d visited and owners he’d contacted. “Even people who’ve never been on a horse. I’m not sure I agree with that.”
“I know. It’s like, is the school for training serious riders or for pandering to total dudes?” Sally finished her salmon and picked up her champagne flute.
“Exactly.” It was encouraging to find they thought the same way.
Their waitress cleared the table and offered dessert. Sally said she was too full and Ben agreed. They turned down coffee in favor of finishing the champagne.
When the waitress left, Ben said, “A good rodeo school’s gotta be about more than the technical skills.” He was eager to show her how serious he was about this, and to convince her he could make it work. “It’s about attitude and discipline, developing a physical fitness and training regime, getting the proper equipment and taking care of it. Learning how to—”
“Ben, why are we talking about rodeo schools?” Sally looked puzzled, maybe a little unhappy.
Oh-oh. What had he done wrong now? “Uh, well . . .” How to explain that he was making a sales pitch—on him being a guy she could build a future with?
“I mean, the topic is interesting,” she said, “but here we are at this lovely restaurant, we haven’t seen each other in a month and a half, and we’re talking about rodeo schools?”
“Yeah.” And he was blowing it. “Damn, I’d really intended to have a draft of a real business plan.”
“Business plan?” She stared at him like he wasn’t making sense, which he had to admit was pretty much true. Then she said slowly, “Business plan for a rodeo school? Are you saying you’re thinking of starting a rodeo school?”
He nodded, his pulse jackhammering. Would she think he was insane? Or would she believe he could actually make a go of it?
Still speaking slowly, measuring out each word, she asked, “When were you thinking of doing it?”
“After this season. I hope to win some decent
money. I’ve got some put by already, and if I can add a chunk to it, I should have enough to buy some stock, get a start on building the facilities I’d need.” Thanks to his research, he had a good idea of the figures involved; he just hadn’t had a chance to put them into a spreadsheet. “If I put together a decent business plan, I ought to be able to get a bank loan for the rest.”
She looked confused, and he realized he’d left out something important. “Of course I’d pay for use of the land and any shared facilities. The whole idea’s for me to contribute, not to take advantage.”
“What land?” Again she weighed out each word. “Take advantage of who? Whom?”
He frowned. Hadn’t he made that clear? “Sally, I’m talking about combining forces. Ryland Riding and Traynor Rodeo School. Together.”
Sometimes her pretty face could be so expressive; other times she could be impossible to read. The latter, he was sure, came from her experience with Pete. He hated that right now she’d put on the impassive face. He had laid his future, his heart, on the line and she was giving him nothing back.
Something flickered in the green depths of her eyes. Something that looked like vulnerability. “Why?” she breathed. “Why would we do that?”
Well, hell. If she had to ask, then obviously she didn’t feel the same way.
He knew when it made sense to back off. Like when he’d been a crazy kid and thought bull riding would be cool, then realized it scared the shit out of him and he was wiser sticking to broncs. The wise thing now would be to tell Sally he’d thought it might make good business sense, but if she didn’t agree then that was fine. He’d always figured on spending another five or ten years rodeoing, so it wasn’t like he’d have lost anything.
Except that he would have. He’d have lost Sally. Damn it, he wasn’t going to lose the woman he loved without first laying everything on the line.
“We’d do it because”—he’d never said the words before, and he had to swallow before he forced them out—“because I love you. And if there’s any hope you might one day . . .” The look of utter shock on her face brought him to a stumbling halt.
Appalled, he watched as her eyes went a bright, glittery green and then tears spilled down her cheeks. He grabbed for her hand. “Oh hell, Sally, I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m not trying to pressure you.” Belatedly, it occurred to him that maybe she thought he was like Pete, trying to impose his wishes. “I’d never ask you to do something you don’t want to do.”
The tears still flowed freely.
“Please stop crying. I’ll do anything. I’ll take it all back. We can pretend we never even mentioned rodeo schools, and—”
“Would you just”—she sniffled—“shut up?”
He closed his mouth.
She freed her hand and used both hands to brush tears from her cheeks. She gave a big sniffle, then said, “Do not take it back.” Sniff. “Did you really say . . . you love me?”
He nodded, not sure if he was still supposed to keep his mouth shut.
“Did you mean it?”
“Yes,” he dared to say. “But I didn’t want to make you cry.”
“You big idiot.” She shook her head, coppery curls tossing. “You total, utter idiot!”
“I’m sorry.” Just what he’d done that was so wrong, he wasn’t entirely sure. But if he could, he’d take it back, redo it, whatever she wanted.
She shook her head some more. Her cheeks were drying; her eyes gleamed but this time not with tears; and her mouth formed a grin. She let out a chuckle.
“Sally?” he said warily.
She gave another snorty-sounding chuckle. “You know those broncs that come out of the chute ass-backward?”
“Yeah?”
“The judges award a re-ride. Cowboy, you might want to take that re-ride.” Her voice held dry humor but her eyes were telling a different story, all soft and melty.
She was saying he’d approached things ass-backward. But he’d respected her feminine side with flowers, a nice restaurant, and champagne, and he’d respected the practical businesswoman by discussing business ideas with her. He’d even told her he loved her.
At the very end. Was that what she meant?
The last time their waitress had offered to refill their champagne glasses, they’d both waved her off. Now, he lifted the neglected bottle out of the ice bucket and poured half a glass for Sally and another for himself.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Tension made Sally’s entire body tremble, not so much that anyone would notice yet enough that she felt like she might fly apart in a zillion pieces. Trying to calm her breathing, she gazed at the golden liquid, not as fizzy as it had been when the bottle was first opened, but still bubbly. Celebratory.
Ben had poured champagne. He’d said he loved her. This was going to be the happiest night of her life. Wasn’t it? Or had she completely misunderstood the situation?
“Sally?”
She raised her gaze from the glass to his face. Did her hopes and dreams, and the love she felt for him, show in her eyes?
“Sally Pantages Ryland, I love you.”
He’d said it again. He was taking his re-ride and starting with the most important thing. Again moisture filled her eyes, hazing her vision. She blinked, wanting to see every detail of his striking, beloved face.
“You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved,” he went on. “The time I spent with you—working side by side, going for rides, sharing meals, making love—that was the best time of my life. When I got back to the rodeo, it was good riding Chaunce after a steer, hanging out with Dusty. Having a ride like the one this afternoon is a real high. But none of it’s been as good as it used to be, because I kept missing you.”
No matter how fast she blinked, happy tears overflowed. “I kept missing you, too.”
“I realized I loved you. I want to spend my life with you.”
To spend his life with her? Oh my God, this was really happening.
“But I wasn’t sure I was good enough for you. Hell”—he gave a rough laugh—“I know I’m not good enough for you.”
“You are, Ben.” She reached across the table and grabbed his hands, holding on to him and never wanting to let go. “You’re perfect for me.”
“I want to offer you something. I want to be something, something more than your assistant. That’s Corrie’s job now, anyhow. I want a thing of my own, like you have with Ryland Riding, but it needs to be something I can share with you. Something we can build together. Does that make any sense?”
“Yes.” She nodded firmly. “A lot of sense.”
“With a rodeo school, I could step back from the circuit, but still do some local rodeos to keep my hand in. I’d still live in the world of rodeo. I could pass along everything I’ve learned, and keep learning more. Watching you, I saw how rewarding it is to teach.”
“It sure is. But do you think you could be happy, not competing full-time?”
He gave a wry grin. “I’m pretty damned sure I won’t be happy if I’m not with you. But yeah, I think running a rodeo school would make me real happy. Along with helping you and Corrie with Ryland Riding.”
Her heart was so full, it felt like it was overflowing, the same as her damp eyes.
“I’ve been doing a bunch of research and I was gonna draft a business plan this weekend,” he said. “Then I was going to come see you after this rodeo.”
“You were?” While she’d been gathering her courage to come to him and tell him she loved him, he’d been doing the same thing.
“I wanted to have all my ducks in a row. Lay it out all neat and tidy.” He laughed. “But it was still gonna be ass-backward, I guess.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “If you’d led with the ‘I love you,’ you’d have saved yourself a lot of effort.”
He smiled back. “That would’ve done it?”
She nodded, then suddenly realized she hadn’t told him how she felt. He wasn’t the only one who was doing this clumsily. S
queezing his hands, she said, “I love you, Ben. With all my heart. With or without a rodeo school. Even if you stay full-time on the rodeo circuit.”
Watching his face, she read his reaction. Saw when his own eyes moistened. His voice was choky when he said, “But that’d be no fun. I want to wake up with you every morning and go to bed with you every night.”
“I want that, too. More than anything.”
He freed his right hand and raised his champagne glass. That big hand, so confident when holding the rein on a bronc or roping a steer, actually trembled. “To us, Sally. To our love.”
She raised her glass, amazed to find that her own hand was steady, and clicked it against his. “To us, our love, and to building a future together.”
“Those are the finest words I’ve ever heard.”
Epilogue
On a balmy June evening the next summer, Sally came out of the chicken coop. Her evening chores were finished, but there was one thing more that she and Ben needed to attend to tonight, if she could work up the courage.
Speaking of her husband, there he was now, easing the door of the bunk house closed. Seeing her, he raised a hand in greeting and strode toward her. At his heels was Zeke, their blue heeler.
She leaned down to stroke the dog, then straightened and asked Ben, “Get the kids settled for the night?” It was the second night of a weeklong bronc riding course at the newly minted Traynor Riding and Rodeo School.
“Yeah. They’re out like lights. They’re not used to working this hard.” Ben put his arm around her and she reciprocated as they strolled toward the house with Zeke following them. “You get your ladies settled?”
“I did.” She’d also asked her hens to cross their wings for her and Ben.
“No more putting it off.” He hugged her tighter against the reassuring warmth of his muscular body.
“I know. But what if it’s negative?”
“Then we’ll keep trying. I like the trying.”
“Me too, but I want a baby, Ben.”
“Sweetheart, there’s time. It’ll happen when it’s meant to happen.”
