Can't Hurry Love

by Molly O'Keefe

  “I haven’t seen you here before.” Renee held out a limp hand toward Eli, her tennis bracelet practically falling off her thin wrist. “Who are you?”

  God bless him, Eli didn’t take her hand. “Help,” he said, unsmiling, as if he knew this was the source of Victoria’s trouble. Men liked Renee upon seeing her, she glittered under their attention like a diamond, but not Eli. He just stared at her with distaste.

  “You’re the one taking the boys out?” she asked. “Some kind of trail ride?”

  She made trail ride sound like it was a trip through the sewage treatment plant. Eli nodded.

  “Do you want me to sign a waiver of some kind, or insurance … a permission slip?” she asked, her eyebrow arched at Victoria. “It’s not that we don’t trust you …”

  But she didn’t. And why would she?

  Victoria felt every one of her husband’s failures like stones against her body, most of which she deserved.

  And she wondered if Eli could feel her failures the way she did, a physical pain he had nothing to do with and had done nothing to warrant.

  She was so relieved when Celeste showed up.

  “Come on inside, Renee,” Celeste said, opening the door. “We’ll get this all squared away.”

  Once Eli got the men away from the ranch and confiscated their damned cell phones, things got … pleasant. The sun was bright, the air cool. It was a good thing he’d borrowed those extra horses and dogs. He’d been hoping the fathers would come, but he’d known it wasn’t a sure thing.

  The dogs ran ahead of the horses as if they couldn’t believe their luck to be out on a day like this. The boys were sort of like that too, preening under their fathers’ attention.

  The fathers, though—they handled their sons as though they were sticks of dynamite or talking frogs or some other kind of scary mystery. They kept looking at the boys like they’d never seen them before, like they’d just popped up riding alongside them.

  Bill, as if to compensate for his insecurities, started acting like John Wayne, as if he’d been born on a horse. Which had made it so gratifying when Lucky had shied away from him, making him stumble as he mounted.

  Lucky did not suffer fools.

  But the man had calmed down some and was pointing out a hawk making high circles in the blue sky. Liam, his son, was a nice boy. He kept his wonder-filled eyes fixed on his dad in case he vanished.

  Eli remembered being a kid and feeling that way, before things got so bad. His mother had been right: he’d been his father’s boy all along. Following the old man around like a dog looking for a treat, a scratch behind the ears, anything.

  The realization was a sour one. Sad.

  “You got a plan here?” Jerry asked as he rode up next to him, frowning at the line of people making their way up to the pasture. Jerry would not have been Eli’s first choice for this kind of work—the man was as sour as a crab apple, but he’d been available. “I mean, the dogs can get those cattle down to the low pasture before this crowd even gets up there.”

  Eli glanced at the sun and then back at the ranch. They had another hour ahead of them, two hours if they came back at this same pace.

  “We’ll go up and have lunch.” Ruby had given him bags of food, which he’d strapped on Phineas’s back. The beer was in a cooler bag on top. It was his ace in the hole. “Come on back after.”

  “Biggest waste of time I’ve ever seen,” Jerry grumbled, riding ahead to where one of the kids had dropped his reins and his father was about to fall off his horse getting them back.

  “This is fun, Eli,” Jacob said, beaming like a bag of lightbulbs as Eli rode up next to him.

  “You think so?”

  “Totally.”

  “These … ah … these boys being nice to you?” Eli didn’t want to put too fine a point on his feelings, but he would leave a kid out here all night if he so much as looked at Jacob funny.

  “They’re fine. I don’t think they know … you know … what my dad did.”

  Eli squinted into the sun, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that Tori would hate for him to talk to Jacob about the Ponzi scheme, but his feelings for the two of them overrode her fears. And he had to figure out what was going on here. Why she was hiding herself away.

  “Do you know what your father did?”

  “He stole from a lot of people and then killed himself. Everyone got really mad at my mom, like it was her fault and she had to try to make things right.”

  He remembered how Tori had told him months ago that she’d been a guest in her own home. How in some ways she’d suspected what her husband had been up to, and that her suspicions and her failure to act on them had been reason enough for her to take everyone’s punishment.

  And man, wasn’t history repeating itself.

  It didn’t take a genius to see that Renee and her crowd were here with whips in hand and Tori was hiding away because she thought she deserved to be their whipping post.

  And he had the sinking feeling that he wasn’t going to be able to convince her otherwise.

  chapter

  25

  The moon hung big and fat over the greenhouse, where Eli found Victoria sitting in Tara Jean’s old office chair among the party supplies they’d stored in here for Saturday night. The moon filled the place with icy white light, making things look different, playing with his perceptions.

  Eli put a bottle of beer down on the desk.

  “Thought you might need a drink,” he whispered, wishing he could kiss away every line on her face, every sadness in her eyes.

  “Way ahead of you,” she murmured, lifting up a tumbler a quarter filled with amber liquid.

  “The trail ride went well,” he said, pulling up an old stool and sitting on the edge of it. He kept a wide berth, sensing the land mines around her.

  “I heard.”

  “Some of the other guests came over and asked if they could do it tomorrow.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for coming back after what I said to you. I was so out of line—”

  “I understand.”

  “Really?” she asked.

  “Everyone freaks out sometimes, Tori. It’s okay.”

  “I don’t deserve that,” she whispered. “I don’t deserve you.”

  Now, this was getting troubling, because the woman he loved was slipping away and if he didn’t find a way to stop it, he’d lose her.

  “I’ll tell you what you don’t deserve. You don’t deserve to be sitting on the sidelines while everyone else is out there working on your vision.”

  “I’m working,” she snapped. Her eyes crackled and he rejoiced at the glimmer of the Victoria he knew and loved. If only he could tease more of that out, get rid of this ghost that plagued her.

  “You’re hiding.”

  “It’s for the best, Eli. For everyone.”

  “How in the world is you hiding in here for the best?”

  “Because I was screwing everything up! That’s … that’s what I do, Eli. I fail.”

  It hurt him to see her so twisted around, pulled sideways by these people being here. “Kick them out.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I’m serious. You don’t need them. They’re ruining this experience for you.”

  “They’re paying guests.”

  “They’re asshats, remember? You don’t owe them anything!”

  Something ignited in her eyes and she sat up straighter. She sat all the way up. “I knew he was doing something wrong, he was making too much money, too easily—”

  “Hindsight is twenty/twenty, Tori. Give yourself a break.”

  “I don’t get a break, Eli! I don’t deserve one.”

  “Bullshit.” He flew across the room, fed up with this nonsense. Standing over her, he felt himself pulled in two by hope and worry. “That is the most self-sacrificing nonsense I have ever heard in my life. And I know self-sacrificing. I know it really well, spent most of my life doing it. And you know where it get
s you? Alone. Fired, actually. And so damn sick of yourself you can’t stand it anymore.”

  He pulled her up from the chair, feeling all her wires pulled too tight. “You know,” he smiled, “I realize now why you kept your legs crossed until I forgave you.”

  “Because I did something awful to you—”

  “Because all you think about is forgiveness. Because you’re obsessed with guilt. So you married an asshole who stole from people and made your life miserable. It’s not your fault. Get over it so you can move on with your life.”

  “That’s really easy for you to say.”

  “Yep. You know what’s hard for me to say? My mom left me when I was eight with a drunk dad who didn’t love me half as much as I loved him. And that’s not my fault.”

  She blinked at him, her eyes old in her face, her body small in his hands. “I’m really, really good at handling the shit life hands out, Tori. I’m an A student in managing it. But before you, that’s all I had. And you brought me into this life of yours, your son and this wild idea, and it was all so good. It was happy, and I want it back, not just for me, but for you. You deserve to be happy, you’ve worked hard for it. So don’t let those people take it away from you. Don’t let them push you aside.”

  He knew she didn’t believe him—he could feel it in her body, in the distance between them that he couldn’t stand—so he pulled her closer, as close as he could, until he felt her heartbeat against his.

  Her glass went down on the table with a small thunk and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his lips to hers. She tasted like grief, like desperation, like a woman with her fingers in all the cracks, and part of him wanted to leave, wanted to get to higher ground, because the woman kissing him didn’t love him the way he loved her.

  Or didn’t have the courage to claim it.

  And he couldn’t save her.

  Still, he wrapped his arms around her with a groan, lifting her against his body, pressing her against the erection at his hips. She sighed and wiggled closer, splitting her legs to wrap them around his waist.

  Yes, he thought, something dark and needy rising in his blood. If she wouldn’t have him any other way, she’d have him like this. He took three steps toward the wall, pressing her there, holding her with his hips, and she groaned, throwing her head back.

  He kissed her neck, his hands cupping her breasts, filling his palms with the beauty and reality of her. She arched against him, throwing gasoline on this reckless fire between them.

  He fumbled with his pants, with hers, pushing aside fabric until he felt the heat of her, sank his fingers into the wet of her.

  Her frantic breaths burned his skin, filled his head until all he heard was their heartbeats. Pushing down his pants, he shifted his hips and thrust into her.

  She pushed against his shoulders, finding leverage to move her hips against him, up every time he pushed in, and the friction was hot, too hot, and it felt so good, the kind of heat he could live in.

  His orgasm barreled down on him.

  He gripped her hips harder, shifting her so he hit her clit with every thrust and he felt her frenzy rise, her agonized pleasure. And he managed to hold off until he knew she was coming, her body locked around his, her mouth open in a scream.

  He erupted, pouring himself into her. All his love. All his worry. All his fear that she’d never love him back.

  They stood there, chests heaving, bodies stuck to the wall. He closed his eyes and wished things were different.

  “If … if you don’t love me, Victoria, I gotta walk away. I thought I could love you enough for the two of us. But if you won’t even stand up for yourself, when are you ever going to stand up for me? For us?”

  He kissed her neck, felt her shake against him, unsure if it was the cold or tears or fear that locked her muscles.

  “I’ll help out here the next few days, but then … maybe I need to go.”

  Say something, he thought, pressing his head to hers, as if he could force the words out of her.

  “I’m sorry, Eli,” she breathed.

  His skin, his chest pulled flat, and he couldn’t suck in a breath. Couldn’t pull away from this pain—he had to just ride it out, like that strawberry mare down in Mexico. He held on and let himself get hurt.

  Finally, he pulled away, tucking himself into his pants, trying not to feel the slick heat of her on his body.

  Something felt wrong.

  Yeah, idiot, he thought, it’s your heart breaking.

  But then reality stampeded back and his hands froze on his pants.

  Shit.

  “I didn’t use a condom.”

  chapter

  26

  Victoria, looking like a ghost, like a shadow of herself, stepped into the kitchen on Saturday morning and slid the party planning binder onto the stainless-steel counter.

  Celeste had thought when she volunteered to take on the soulless monsters that were Victoria’s old friends from New York that Victoria would agree, that within a day she’d realize what a fool she was to let these women get the better of her and she’d come out swinging, setting things right, and Celeste could stop pretending to care about Renee’s every little problem.

  But it was Saturday and it hadn’t happened.

  Things around this ranch had only gotten worse. And it wasn’t because she was waiting on Renee and her unquenchable thirst. Victoria didn’t look like a woman who ran a spa, she looked like a woman in desperate need of one.

  And Eli, well, it was plenty obvious the poor man was nursing a broken heart; luckily, it just made that stoic cowboy persona he had going for him more attractive. Those women from New York were infatuated.

  She wondered what Victoria would do if Celeste told her about what Renee said about Eli’s butt.

  “A little lipstick wouldn’t kill you,” Celeste said, trying to get a rise out of the girl, but Victoria just ignored her.

  “Are we ready for the party tonight?” Ruby asked, wiping her hands off on a towel.

  “No, actually,” Victoria said. “We’ve got Eli leading a trail ride up to the North Pasture with most of the guests and most of the hands. Celeste—”

  “Is being treated like a dog by your snobby friends. Honestly, Victoria, what did you ever see in them?” Celeste said, sipping her tea.

  “They were all that was available, I suppose,” she said, flipping open the binder. “With everyone so busy, we’re going to need a few more hands. Some muscle to set up for the party.”

  “Luc—” Celeste said.

  “He and Tara had to catch a later flight from Toronto. They won’t be here until tonight.”

  “Who are you going to call?” Ruby asked.

  “Gavin,” Celeste said, caught off guard that she couldn’t pretend she hadn’t missed him. That she hadn’t thought about him a hundred times a day.

  “Do you want me to call him?” Victoria asked. “Or do you want to?”

  Me! Me!

  “Why would I want to?” Celeste asked, arching a perfectly trained eyebrow.

  Ruby muttered something in Spanish and turned back around to the sink and the carrots she was peeling.

  “I just thought you might.”

  Celeste tilted her head. “And what do you think about Eli?”

  Victoria flinched.

  Ah, Celeste thought, a reaction.

  “It was never going to work out between us,” Victoria said, pushing her hair behind her ears like a nervous thirteen-year-old girl.

  “Did he know that?” Celeste asked.

  Victoria cleared her throat. “He does now.”

  Celeste’s heart hurt for Eli, who’d been suckered in by the chimera of the person Victoria had become these last few months, having no idea that under pressure, the strong, independent woman would disappear like a popped bubble.

  “You’re a coward,” Celeste said.

  “Yes, I am. It’s the one thing I’m good at.” Victoria picked up her binder, tucking it under her arm. “I have to
go pick up liquor. Call Gavin. We need him.”

  And with that, she left.

  Celeste stared out the bright blue square of window over the sink and calmed her racing heart. She had a reason to call Gavin. An excuse. And after the stress of the last week, the gerbils weren’t just panicked, they were manic. And she’d gotten used to it. It was as if that gerbil she’d been afraid of had moved into her brain, procreated, and built a gerbil city.

  “I’m starved,” Celeste said and Ruby spun, her face alight. “Really, really hungry. Honestly, I’ve never been this hungry.”

  “Well, I have just what you need.”

  Ten minutes later Ruby slid a bowl of something fragrant and warm in front of her and without a second thought, without even looking at what she was eating, Celeste dug in.

  Cheese. Eggs. Sour cream. Delicious.

  She glanced down and realized it was exactly the same thing she’d given to Victoria months ago when the woman began taking over the ranch.

  Courage food, apparently.

  She was going to call Gavin. She wanted to call Gavin. She ached to hear the sound of his voice, even if it was telling her to get lost.

  Celeste put a little hot sauce on the eggs and thought about what she was going to say: Gavin, can you please come back here? Gavin, I need you. I’ll pay you whatever you want—just … please … help me.

  Holding her breath, she picked up her cell phone and hit the speed dial that went right to Gavin’s cell.

  “Gavin Svenson.”

  “Hi … ah, Gavin?” She closed her eyes, wished herself in a deep dark hole with nothing but eggs and cheese and no cell phones.

  “That’s me.”

  “It’s Celeste.”

  “Hi.” She tried to read warmth in that voice, but it was impossible. He was an arctic ice cap. At night. “Everything all right?”

  “No. Well, I mean, yes. There aren’t any problems with the spa, except … I need your help.”

  “Mine?”

  “Yes.” Watching Ruby’s back at the sink she explained the situation as best she could without getting too detailed. “I know it’s beneath your pay scale, but I’m desperate and there’s no one here to help me set up for this party and … I need you.”