“Um, no. Me drinking a beer isn’t exactly earth-shattering-look-at-the-new-me material.”
Gunnar winked. “How about if I put my arm around you? We could totally tweak his jealous bone.”
“Um—”
“I’m kidding.” Gunnar’s eyes drifted over Lexi’s shoulder, and she had a sudden realization that he’d probably rather be with the other women at the party, even though he’d come to her, hadn’t he?
She pointed over her shoulder without looking. “Do you need to get back to the guests?”
“I hate to, but I probably should. Ma’s paying attention to who’s mingling and who’s not. Her Sunday night rule is that we can drink her beer, but we’d better make her guests feel welcome while we’re doing it.”
“Then I guess you’d better go play host.” Lexi smiled. “Thank you for the beer.”
As he headed toward a family by the fireplace, she smiled, loving that he wasn’t heading for any of the three groups of women who were clearly waiting for him to notice them. When he crouched down to point to a little girl’s stuffed pony, making her whole face light up in a wide smile, Lexi felt her stomach quiver in a delicious, unfamiliar way.
“Nope. You’re definitely not interested.” Hayley appeared at her elbow. “Good that you were clear about that before we got the wrong idea.”
Chapter 8
“You ready to show Goldie who’s boss?” Gunnar raised his eyebrows as Lexi adjusted her helmet strap, hoping she’d cranked it tight enough to save her from a concussion if she fell off. She’d been at Whisper Creek for a full two weeks now, but guests had kept everyone so busy that she’d barely seen Gunnar except for brief glimpses as he’d led groups out for a ride, or worked with that giant black horse in the corral. Even at dinnertime, it was always controlled chaos, with staff and guests eating all together in the main lodge great room.
But it was better that way. If she didn’t see Gunnar, she didn’t get that strange quiver in her stomach. If she didn’t talk to him, she didn’t wish she could keep him talking.
The most disappointing thing, however, was that she was two weeks into her eight-week stay here at Whisper Creek, and she’d made almost zero progress in the Lexi 2.0 department. Instead of whitewater rafting, she’d been dispensing Band-Aids. Instead of rock-climbing, she’d been stuck in the kitchen on KP duty, despite her lack of skill in that very room.
The first morning Ma had asked her for help prepping lunch, Lexi had been sure she was going to be a disaster. But when Ma had realized she was clueless, she’d just laughed. Oh, boy, she’d said. I’ve got another Hayley on my hands. Then she’d patted Lexi on the cheek and handed her a stack of plates. Here. You set the table instead.
But now it was Saturday morning, the first two-week session’s guests had done their tearful goodbyes yesterday, and the ranch was relatively quiet as the staff got ready for a new influx tomorrow. This morning, Lexi’d just happened to be down at the stables when Gunnar had finished working the black horse, so he’d asked her if she wanted to try that lesson he’d promised.
She hadn’t, like, planned it. She hadn’t.
“I’m pretty sure Goldie already knows who’s boss.” Lexi cringed. “Also pretty sure she knows it’s her.”
“That’s true, till you show her otherwise. Ready to be all badass bossy?”
Lexi laughed. “Not sure I know how.”
“Good time to learn, then. You can practice on me.”
“What?”
“You can tell me what to do, and I promise not to kick or bite. Then you can try the commands on Goldie.”
“Gunnar, no offense, but there’s no way I can say giddyup or whoa to you with a straight face, even if you’re serious.”
“I’m dead serious. But please don’t say giddyup.” He mock-cringed. “That is not a word.”
Lexi laughed. “Okay, so what do I say to get her to go?”
“Walk.”
“Walk? Really? That’s it?”
“If that’s what you want her to do, yes.” He nodded. “And you give her a little tap with your heels at the same time.”
“Okay. Walk. Simple enough.”
“Try it.”
Lexi put both hands up. “I think I can handle the command without practice, Gunnar.”
He didn’t answer—just hiked his eyebrows upward and crossed his arms.
“Fine.” She sighed. “Walk.”
“Louder.”
“Walk.” She increased the volume.
“I’m not a rabbit. I’m a horse. Tell me what to do in a way that doesn’t leave me a choice.”
“Walk.” Lexi injected more steel into her voice.
“That’s better, but you’ll notice I haven’t started moving, because I still don’t believe you think you’re in charge.”
Lexi laughed. “Omigod, you are impossible.”
“You want this to work? You want a good selfie for Tristan-the-Idiot?”
“He’s not—oh, forget it. Walk.”
“We’re getting there, but you’re still afraid of me.”
“Am not.”
His eyebrows went upward again. “Are, too.”
She swallowed, hearing a double entendre she wasn’t sure he’d meant to dole out.
“Walk.”
He nodded. “Almost there.”
“Seriously.” She uncrossed her arms and planted her feet. “Walk, dammit!”
In response, he set out slowly away from her, walking. She looked from left to right, not sure what he was doing.
“Are you—walking?”
“You told me to, didn’t you?”
Lexi laughed. “Yes. So I finally got it?”
“Good enough, yes. But now you have a problem.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m walking.”
She put up her hands, smiling and frustrated at the same moment. “Why’s that a problem? That’s what I told you to do.”
“But now you need me to stop.”
“Well, good news. I know that one. Whoa.”
He looked back, mock derision in his face. “Seriously. That’s all you’ve got?”
“One question—do you treat all Whisper Creek guests this way?”
“Not all Whisper Creek guests are on the same quest you are.”
She sighed. “Right. For the ultimate selfie?”
“Hey.” He shrugged. “You said it, not me.”
Lexi toyed with letting him continue to walk around the corral while she went and painted her nails or something, but since she really did want to get on Goldie today and prove she could ride a horse, dammit, she had to play his game.
“Is whoa the correct term, oh Gunnar-horse?”
“Yep.”
“Then whoa.”
“Nope. Still walking. Sounded like you were asking, not telling me, and it turns out I don’t want to, because I’m Goldie, and I’m in a mood.”
Lexi laughed again. This was so flipping ridiculous.
“Whoa!”
“Nope.” He shook his head, and she could see him trying not to smile. “Now you’re screechy. That carries a different risk.”
“What’s that?”
“I might take off on you.”
“Crap.”
“Yep. And by the way, if that happens, just hold on for dear life. Eventually the horse will get tired and slow down, so grab hold of the saddle horn, keep your heels down in the stirrups, and ride it out.”
“Oh, that doesn’t scare me at all, thanks. I hadn’t considered the possibility that one of your well-trained horses would flee.”
“They probably won’t.”
“Probably? Thank you. Again.” Lexi crossed her arms. “How is it you get return guests here? Just out of curiosity?”
“Are you ever going to say whoa and mean it? I feel a little ridiculous walking around this corral.”
Lexi laughed. “You’re the one who started this. I should just leave you here.”
“You won’t.
”
“Fine.” She sighed, and tried again. “Whoa.”
He stopped immediately, nodding appreciatively. “Now, that’s what I’m talking about. That’s a cowgirl who means business. Good.”
“So do I get to try the actual getting-on-the-horse part yet?”
“Think you’re ready?”
She took a deep breath. “Ready as I’ll ever be, yes.”
—
“Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow.” Lexi winced as she walked up the steps to the medical office two hours later, desperate for some ibuprofen to ease the pain screaming through her thighs. She’d pasted on a smile through dinner, doing her best to give off a breezy, unaffected air, when really, her butt and legs felt like she’d gone on one of those reality shows where the psycho trainer yells at the contestants until they either lose the pounds or lose their minds.
When she got into the office, she headed straight for the medicine cupboard, thoroughly embarrassed that she was trying to decide whether four tablets would be enough.
“Lexi? You okay?” Jess poked her head in from the yoga room next door.
“Yup. Good.” Lexi took a deep breath and turned around, smile back in place.
Jess paused, studying her. “Finally get up on Goldie?”
“Yes.”
“Paying the price?”
“Oh, God, yes.” She let the breath out that she’d been holding.
Jess laughed. “Hold on. I’ve got something that’ll help.” She walked over to the little shop area where she sold the herbal products she made herself, and pulled two little jars off from the top shelf. “Go take a hot bath with this one, and then rub this one in wherever it hurts. Promise you’ll feel better in no time.”
Lexi eyed the nondescript white containers suspiciously. She’d never bought into the whole herbal medicine thing, and even though she’d already grown to like Jess more than anyone else at the ranch—save Gunnar, but that was different—she didn’t know if she wanted to be rubbing strange potions on her skin. Or bathing in them.
“They’re all natural, totally benign.” Jess gave the jars a gentle shake, then handed them to Lexi. “I use them all the time. They’re my biggest sellers here in the shop, too. I promise you won’t turn green or anything.”
“Of course not.” Lexi waved a hand like the thought had never entered her mind.
“Blue, maybe, but that’s if you don’t follow the directions closely.” Jess winked. “Seriously, they’re fine. More neutral than anything you can buy at the drugstore.” She turned Lexi’s shoulders back toward the doorway. “Now go, before somebody shows up looking for a Band-Aid.”
Twenty minutes later, Lexi closed her eyes, ensconced in a tub full of delicious, lavender-scented bubbles. She’d lit candles around the tub, and had cracked the window so she could hear the sounds of the ranch going to sleep. Already, it had become her favorite time of day at Whisper Creek. While the daytime was full of activity and people and energy, the evenings were—for the most part—relaxed. Guests hung out on their cabin porches with glasses of wine, the horses snorted and thumped in the stables, and the birds sang their last notes of the evening as the frogs and peepers warmed up.
She put her head back against the warm porcelain, breathing deeply as she felt her entire body relax. Jess had been right. Between the hot water and the magical potion she’d poured into it, her muscles already felt looser and less painful.
She wished Jess had a similar potion for her heart.
Tristan still hadn’t bothered to get in touch, not the entire time she’d been out in Montana. Not a flipping word. Not a texted emoticon, even. Nothing. It was like he’d left that letter in her mailbox and disappeared from her life, without even giving her a chance to respond.
She sighed, thinking of the wedding gown hanging back in her apartment in Maine. And for the first time, she let herself wonder why she hadn’t been just a little bit more surprised.
Was it the Curse? Had she really expected him to pull the same extraction maneuver as the others, at the same interval? Of course not. So clearly, he’d been giving signals, whether she’d chosen to acknowledge them or not.
She sat up. Maybe he’d been giving loud and clear signals, and she’d been too naïve to see them. Maybe the man had been miserable for months, but had just been too nice to come out and say so until he realized she was too obtuse to realize it.
She slid back into the water, thinking back to the cake tasting at the bakery in Portland. The designer had set out five different samples for them to choose from, based on what Lexi had told her about their preferences, and they’d walked in hand in hand, eager to taste them.
Or had it just been she who was eager? Had he even cared about the cake, really? He’d tasted them, he’d smiled appropriately, and he’d started to point to the chocolate-raspberry confection. But then he’d pulled back. Your mother hates raspberry, doesn’t she? And Lexi’d thought it was so sweet that he was thinking of Mom’s tastes. But really, that was probably one of the many Big Fat Signs that should have hit her radar with a loud, clanging cymbal noise.
And instead of saying something like it’s not about Mom or but you love raspberries, Lexi had merely nodded and said, should we go with the lemon, then?
She sighed again, realizing how many times she’d changed plans on Tristan—or been reluctant to make them in the first place—because of her mother. The weekend in Boston with his friends last fall, the island-hopping kayak tour off the coast of Penobscot Bay last summer, the ski trip to northern Maine. She’d said yes to all of them, and had backed out at the last minute when Mom had developed some sort of new illness or anxiety attack.
Good God. When she thought about it, the man had held out for longer than most would have. But obviously he’d finally realized he wasn’t just marrying Lexi. He was also marrying Lexi’s mom, and that thought had probably frightened him right to—well, wherever the hell he was.
But the worst part, if she really was honest with herself, was that most of those times, she’d actually been secretly glad for Mom’s issues, because they’d given her an excuse to stay home, inside her very well-insulated comfort zone.
Maybe it wasn’t Tristan’s fault he’d left.
Maybe…it was hers.
She sat up again, sloughing the bubbles from her arms. It wasn’t too late to change. It wasn’t too late to get him back. She still had six weeks left of summer—six weeks to chisel away at that damn comfort zone and prove to Tristan that she could be the kind of woman who’d be beside him in all things, terror be damned.
The lavender scent wafting up from the bubbles made her close her eyes, sinking back down into the water.
Tomorrow. She’d get a fresh start tomorrow.
—
Gunnar hadn’t meant to look. Really. He’d been bringing something up to Cole and Jess, and Lexi’s cabin was on his way. That’s all. And when he’d seen the light in her bedroom window on the way back down the hill, he hadn’t meant to stutter-step and stop. And when he’d seen her framed in the lace curtains, sitting in a rocker with her hair up and her cheeks pink, smiling softly as she turned a page, he certainly hadn’t meant to stare.
It was just that she made such a peaceful picture sitting there, rocking softly as she sipped out of a pottery mug. She had on a big fluffy robe, and her feet looked tiny propped up on the bed.
It wasn’t his fault that his own feet froze to the dirt at the sight of her. She’d left her damn window open, for God’s sake. Was a man not supposed to notice?
Yeah, a man was supposed to keep his ass moving right on by. He cursed as he headed for the stables. A man was not supposed to be thinking about a temporary employee as anything more than that. She was here now, but she was leaving in just a few weeks, and there was no chance in hell that starting anything with her would get them anywhere but heartbreak city.
He didn’t do casual. Just didn’t. He’d grown up watching his father flirt with anything in a skirt, and it had made him sick to watch,
even as a kid. And when that same father had flaunted his girlfriends in front of Gunnar’s mother—when Gunnar’d had to go in later with a box of tissues and a glass of water, it had made him downright mad.
But when he’d had to pack up his things one more time so his mother could follow his father to his next post—living just off base because the damn man wouldn’t put a ring on her finger or his benefit package on his own kid—it had made Gunnar into the person he was today.
So no way would he do the summer fling thing. As much as he could imagine the benefits—as much as he could feel them every time his body tightened in Lexi’s presence, dammit—he wouldn’t go there.
He took a deep breath. But if anybody else tried it with her, he was going to have a damn hard time keeping his fists by his side.
Chapter 9
“Who’s this?” Lexi eyed the horse Gunnar was leading out of the barn a week later. He’d promised her a riding lesson this morning, but this was definitely not Goldie. She watched the horse’s legs as they pranced a few inches from the dirt. No dragging hooves on this one.
Uh-oh.
“This is Rocket.”
Lexi felt her eyebrows fly upward. “A horse named Rocket? For me?”
“Yep.” Gunnar pretended to reconsider. “Despite your aversion to speed.”
“My aversion—what?” It wasn’t her fault that Goldie barely lifted a hoof except to torment her riders. Speed wasn’t really in the elderly horse’s vocabulary, as far as Lexi knew.
Gunnar winked. “Just thinking back to our ride from the airport. Pretty sure my armrest still has fingernail marks, despite the fact that I’m an excellent driver.”
Oh. That speed.
“Maybe I thought you were some sort of raging maniac with a NASCAR complex. Not my fault, really. I didn’t even know you.”
He laughed. “Raging maniac with a NASCAR complex. That’s a new one.” He hooked a lead line onto Rocket’s bridle and led him to the center of the ring, where once again, there was an overturned bucket. “Remember how to mount?”
Unlucky in Love Page 8
