Maybe that’s what everyone was looking for all along—the boys, Ridge, and Sierra herself. Everybody wanted to belong somewhere.
And so far, the only one who’d succeeded was Riley.
In any case, this wasn’t the time to tell Riley her own news. She’d give Riley this day to celebrate her own victory. God knew she’d worked hard to get here.
“Maybe you’re right about Ridge. I don’t know.” Sierra put an arm around her friend. “I just know that I am so, so proud of you.”
Riley smacked the nearest shelf and lifted her fist in a victory salute.
“There! I did it!”
“Did what?” Sierra asked.
“I got you to say you’re proud of me.” She was beaming, practically lighting up the room. “From the first time I met you, you seemed like the most put-together, amazing person I’d ever met. I wanted to be just like you, but I knew that would never happen. So I decided the best I could do was to make you proud of me. And believe it or not, for all those years I screwed up so bad, that was still the goal I was always trying to reach.”
“And you’re there,” Sierra said. “So there. I should have said it sooner, Riley. I was always proud of the way you fought.”
“Even when I lost?”
“Nobody wins every fight.” She looked around the hardware store, noticing how tidy it was. Neat, handwritten labels marked each section, and the white-glove test would work anywhere in the place. “You’ve really made a difference here already. So what’s your goal now?”
Riley grew serious. “I want to get Alma into town more often. I think physical therapy could really help her, and Ed hasn’t had time to take her. And I want to computerize the inventory. Half the time Ed doesn’t know what he’s got in stock and what he needs to order.”
“Pretty ambitious,” Sierra said.
“Well, at least I don’t think I’m going to be able to fix that cowboy,” Riley teased. “Now that’s ambitious.”
“I don’t know,” Sierra said. “Maybe the really big job is fixing me.”
Chapter 47
Sierra was preparing for a long night with the kids when Gil turned up at the house.
“You got the night off, sugar.” He flashed a shopping bag from Target. “I went down to Cheyenne today and got a new Xbox game.”
She lifted her eyebrows. “You want to play that so badly that you’re taking my night shift?”
“I figure you probably have places to go, cowboys to talk to.”
“What makes you think that?”
He grinned his toothy Gil grin. “You bought four bridal magazines at the Mini Mart this morning.”
She knew she should have gone to Cheyenne for those. But she hadn’t recognized the young man behind the counter, so she’d taken a calculated risk.
“Go on,” Gil said. “Looking at all those frilly dresses for a few hours will do Ridge Cooper good.” He turned and headed for the TV room.
Sierra felt her shoulders relaxing and a smile spreading across her face. She wasn’t going to argue with him. Although she sincerely doubted she and Ridge would spend the gift of a surprise evening together looking at magazines.
***
There was no sign of Ridge when she reached the ranch, but the big white truck was parked in its usual spot, so he was around somewhere.
She grabbed the bridal magazines. She’d taken the time to dog-ear a few pages, marking the most hideous, over-the-top wedding dresses she could find to see if she could scare Ridge.
She tried the barn first, but it was empty of both horses and cowboys. The only sounds were the cooing of doves in the rafters and the occasional flutter of wings.
She stood there awhile, enjoying the soothing dimness and savoring the way the sunlight angled in through slits in the roof where storms had blown the shingles off. Breathing deep, she absorbed the scent of hay and horses, old wood and dust. This quiet place would be a part of her world someday, and though it was as different from her old world as any place she could imagine, she loved it already.
But she was on a mission. Stepping out of the barn, she called Ridge a couple times.
No answer.
She called his name again as she entered the house. He was probably in some far pasture, doing whatever it was cowboys did. That was another thing she’d have to learn someday.
So she had the house to herself. That wasn’t such a bad thing. She could check out Riley’s improvements and daydream about living there someday.
She thought about fanning the wedding magazines out on the coffee table, but then it occurred to her that one of Ridge’s brothers might stop by, or some of Brady’s rodeo friends. No, it would be better to keep their plans private until Ridge wanted to tell his brothers about it, so she headed upstairs to his bedroom.
Sitting on the bed, she tried to picture him as that sulky boy in the photo. It was obvious he hadn’t stayed sulky long, since he’d accomplished so much in rodeo. She picked up the old composition book he’d shown her, where he’d written down his plans for the future, and flipped through the pages. The first few were devoted to boyish drawings of horses, with body parts carefully labeled. Then came a long list of cowboy and rodeo terms. That was pretty interesting. She’d have to go back to it later. The next page was the list of goals she’d already seen, and the page after that was a new list.
Plan B, it said at the top of the page. The handwriting looked more mature and less faded. Ridge could have written it just yesterday, for all she knew.
A fierce little claw of guilt clutched at her subconscious. She was snooping, in a way. But didn’t she have a right? She and Ridge were going to get married. They’d have to work out new goals, shared ones. Maybe they’d develop their own plan B, or maybe this one would work for both of them. She needed to know, right?
The little claw clutched a little tighter, but she kept reading.
1. Clean house.
Well, that was a goal they could share. Ridge had actually come a long way with it, but there was still work to be done.
2. Talk to Sierra.
She smiled. This was a recent list. She wondered what he’d wanted to talk to her about that was important enough to put on a list. Marriage? Or something more mundane? She’d have to ask him.
The next item was Bring the house up to code. That solved the mystery of what he’d wanted to talk to her about. He must have written out this list before their dinner at the Red Dawg, when he’d broached the idea of taking in foster kids.
That was what had brought them together. The kids. Sometimes, she’d thought he cared far more about the kids than he did about her. In fact, at that dinner, she’d felt like he was romancing her as a means to an end.
She remembered telling him about how much work the house would need and how challenging the kids could be. He hadn’t let any barrier stand in his way. Even when she’d told him the state usually didn’t allow single men to be foster parents, he’d gone ahead and started working toward his goal. He couldn’t have known then that the two of them would actually get together and solve that problem—though the thought had definitely crossed his mind. She’d seen it, clear as a shooting star, arcing through his dark eyes that night at the Red Dawg.
But though that was what brought them together, it wasn’t the reason he’d proposed. There was more to their relationship than that. She loved him, deeply and purely, and he felt the same way about her. She was sure of it.
So why was that little claw clutching at her again? This time it wasn’t guilt; it was fear.
And the next line made it tighten up and twist until she could barely breathe.
Find wife partner, it said. And then, in parentheses, it said Sierra?
It wasn’t the question mark that got her. It was the parentheses. It was as if she was being considered as a possibility, as someone who might, maybe, solve his problem. Someone who was handy, who might suit his needs and help him get to that goal he was so hell-bent on reaching.
Now it was
anger that clutched at her heart.
Because Ridge Cooper always achieved his goals, didn’t he? He always stuck to the back of the bronc and finished out the ride. What was it he’d said about rodeo? It was time to quit anyway. I was the world champion bronc rider. That was my goal. I made it, and I’m done.
When he wanted something, he made it happen with a single-minded intensity that mowed down everything in his path. Including her.
She wasn’t the love of his life. She was only a part of the plan.
If only it hadn’t started the way it had, in that old-fashioned bedroom. If only he hadn’t been so tender that day in the grove, that sacred place where the breezes stroked the wind chimes that had been placed there with so much love by his family.
She’d realized he was a little reticent when it came to romance, but she’d figured it was a function of his loveless upbringing, or maybe just part of being a cowboy. In reality, every shred of romance he’d managed to force out had been a lie. He’d been working toward a goal. And while a cowboy might think the means justified the ends, she could never forgive him for leading her on.
She stood up, smoothing out the comforter to erase all traces of her sitting on the bed. It was time to leave Ridge Cooper behind—Ridge Cooper and all the moments they’d shared together.
But she couldn’t, could she? She’d called and backed out of her upcoming job in Denver as soon as she accepted the permanent position as manager of Phoenix House. So she was trapped here in Wynott. She’d have to see Ridge all the time. See him, hear about him, and probably hear about whatever new floozy he found to further his goals.
To hang on to her own sanity, she needed to change the context of every memory she had of the times they’d spent together. What she’d thought was lovemaking had actually been sex. Good sex, great sex, probably the best sex she’d ever have in her life—but with no real emotion behind it. The moments she treasured weren’t romance. They were cold calculation on his part and foolish fantasy on hers.
It wasn’t all his fault. She’d seen what she wanted to see and turned her back on reality. She’d wanted her someday now, and she’d been eager to believe she’d found the place she belonged. In a way, she’d been as guilty as Ridge. She’d offered him a way to reach his goal; he’d offered her the family that, deep down, she’d always wanted.
Closing the notebook, she picked up the wedding magazines and tossed them in the wastebasket under the desk. They landed with a very solid and satisfying thunk.
Chapter 48
Ridge saw Sierra’s car the moment he came around the corner of the barn. He’d been working Moonpie half the morning and actually getting somewhere. It seemed as if Jeffrey had broken through some barrier in the animal’s mind, and the horse was more willing to trust.
The second he saw the car, he started off at a run. He’d longed to see her, but she’d been scheduled to work the whole day and most of the evening. She must have gotten Gil to cover for her.
He’d thought about her all day—about her and the life they’d build together. The one thing he’d wanted most, all his life, was the kind of love he shared with Sierra. He’d have a home, a family.
He’d be golden.
He ran into the house, jogged through the front hall, the kitchen, and the family room. No Sierra. She must be upstairs.
He ran up, two steps at a time, and there she was, sitting on the side of his bed. She didn’t see him at first; her face was turned toward the window, and he wondered if she was taking in the view in a new way, seeing the landscape that stretched beyond the ranch house as home.
He hoped so.
He just watched her for a few seconds, loving the way the light from the window picked out the paler strands in her blond hair, the way it highlighted her cheekbone and silhouetted her strong profile. He loved the way the dim light emphasized the softness of her skin. He loved everything about her, especially when she was here, where she belonged. The ranch might be a foreign land to her, but it brought out the best in her in every way.
His heart swelled with love and the certainty that a happy future lay before him. He’d never believed that, even when he’d started conquering the big bulls, even when he’d won his championships. He’d never believed it until now, and at this moment, his heart felt big enough to hold all of Wyoming.
And then she turned. And she wasn’t smiling. Her eyes were dull and dim, her lips drawn into a grim line.
“Hey,” he said. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head as she rose, her lips tightening to hold in her thoughts.
She glanced down at the old tin pail he used as a wastebasket, and quickly up again, as if she hadn’t meant to give herself away. He crossed the room in a single stride and picked up the bundle of magazines that filled the battered pail.
“Elegant Bride,” he said. “Bridal Seasons, Bride Magazine, Here Comes the Bride.” He flipped through one of them, looking at the models in their white dresses.
“You’ll throw every one of these girls in the shade. You know that, right? You’re going to be the prettiest bride in the state of Wyoming.”
She didn’t smile.
He looked down at the stack of magazines in his hands then back at her face. He didn’t think Sierra was the type to care much about clothes, but he’d heard women turned crazy when it came to weddings.
He set the magazines on the desk. “Couldn’t find anything you liked?”
She stood, and he reached out, took her hands. She shook him away, and he saw tears in her eyes. What was going on?
Glancing down at the bed, he saw something even more telling than the bridal magazines: his old composition book, open to plan B.
Shit.
He tried to remember exactly what he’d written. He knew her name was in there somewhere, as a goal to be attained. He knew that wasn’t a bad thing—to love someone and want to win them—but he’d learned enough about women to know they misinterpreted things. They thought differently from men once you entered emotional territory.
“I’m sorry, Sierra,” he said. She didn’t answer, just stared back at him with disbelief written all over her face.
“You’re sorry?”
He nodded. “I just don’t know how to do this. I screw it up every time. I don’t know a damn thing about love, and I do stupid shit like writing it down on a list.”
She sat back down on the bed and looked at the composition book again. He wanted to snatch it out of her hands, take away the evidence of his own stupidity, but he knew enough to hold himself back.
“I knew it. That’s what kills me. Remember that lunch at the Red Dawg? I told you not to look at me that way—like I was a means to an end.” She picked up Shelley’s stupid cowboy book, which he’d left beside the bed. “Did you get ideas out of this? Did I fall for lines from a romance novel?”
“No. That was Shelley’s. She left it here. I might have a lot of flaws, but I’m not a liar. Everything that happened between us was for real. Everything.”
“I’m sorry, Ridge. Maybe you believe that. But I think you want to succeed so badly that you don’t know your own heart. I’m here now, the perfect answer to your problem. But what happens when that other woman turns up, the one you really love?”
“I’ll never love anyone but you.”
“No, because you’ll never let yourself. You’d stand by me because you’re an honorable man. I know that.” She swiped at her eyes. I will not cry. I will not cry. “But once you make your goal, you’ll realize that what you thought was love was just—I don’t know—determination.”
“It’s not,” he said. “I love you, and I always will.” He knelt down, taking her hands in his. This time she didn’t pull away.
But she wouldn’t look him in the eye, and he knew he’d lost her.
***
Sierra could hardly stand to look at Ridge. He looked demolished. Maybe he believed he really loved her.
But there was no way he could know. He’d made up his mind
to be a foster parent, and he was a man who always accomplished his goals. Hang on to the back of a bull for eight seconds? Check. Win a world championship before he turned thirty? Check.
Find a partner so he could adopt foster kids, like the dad he so admired?
Check.
She sat frozen by indecision, staring at the pictures on the far wall. Ridge on a horse. Ridge on a bull. Ridge with Bill Decker, with Irene. God, she loved this man, but what kind of situation was she getting herself into? What if she married him, and he only loved her for the kids? He’d get tired of her someday, and then what would she have? A sad, loveless marriage and a heart full of regret for the things she hadn’t done.
She swallowed and blinked hard, doing her best to put up that professional shield that had been her greatest weapon. All the time she’d worked in Denver, her ability to shut down her emotions had been her best professional strength. Wonder Woman had her golden bracelets, Spider-Man had his webs, Batman had the Batmobile, and Sierra Dunn had her impenetrable shield of professionalism.
But she’d dropped it here in Wynott. Something about this small town had charmed her and broken through her defenses. She’d fallen for the kids first and then for Ridge. Then she’d fallen for the life she could have here on the ranch, and in the quaint little town.
She so wanted Ridge’s love to be real. It was the best she’d ever had. It had convinced her, finally, that there were good men in the world.
But that was the problem. She’d seen what she wanted to see, and she’d ignored the truth.
“I can’t do it, Ridge,” she said. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
“You know, it’s the same old problem,” he said. “You always want some kind of guarantee. You want a guarantee the horse won’t hurt Jeff, or you won’t let him ride him. You want a guarantee Riley won’t screw up again, or you won’t let her loose. Now you want a guarantee that I love you just the right way.”
“Those things matter to me.”
“I know that. But sometimes you just have to gamble and make the leap, you know?”
How to Handle a Cowboy Page 30
