For a second I’m at a loss to what he’s referring to, then remember my dumb ass comment about moving to Gunner Ridge from El Paso. “I just didn’t go out in it much.”
He nods. “What did you do in El Paso?”
“Same as here. Not much really. Certainly not horseback riding.”
He fixes his gaze on me for a while and I wriggle in the saddle. It’s as if he is weighing up my answer, wanting to believe what I say on face value but knowing there is something else hidden in the murky depths of my background.
“Honestly, Colt, I’d rather not talk about El Paso. There’s nothing interesting about it and I’d rather leave my past behind.”
“Fair enough.” Fortunately, he doesn’t press further. “Come on, we’ll take a break up there.” He nods and clicks his tongue again, and our horses gain speed up a hillside. I still haven’t gotten the hang of rising and falling on the saddle, and my backside is pummeled to death by the time we reach the top. Colt leaps off under a tree. Pebble stops, even though I’m sure I did nothing to make him do so, and Colt takes the reins.
“Hop your leg over.” Colt guides my leg over the saddle and lifts me at the waist, lowering me softly onto the grass. His hands stay on my waist longer than they need to, and for a moment I’m cornered in between the horse and Colt. His chest heaves against my back and his breaths land hot on my neck. Then he steps away, giving me room to turn, but he’s still closer than feels comfortable and my body begins to shut down. My face must show my nervousness because he breaks my gaze and silently shifts away to lead the horses to a bubbling creek.
The horses dip their heads at the creek and take water, while Colt pats and nuzzles their necks. It’s mesmerizing how sweet he is with them and so different to my initial view of how he is with animals. It’s as if I’ve caught him in a personal moment and it surprises me that he would act this way in front of me. He turns and I snap away my gaze because I can’t school my expression quickly enough.
I sit under the tree and rest my back against the rough trunk, relishing the coolness of the shade and the absence of hot leather between my legs. Although my mind needs to cool down more than my skin, and the ache shimmying through my body is not from the awkward way I’ve just ridden a horse for the first time but the unmistakable desire I have for Colt Corrigan. I pull off Colt’s hat, stroke back the wisps of hair that have worked free of the braids, and fan the leather brim repeatedly across my face.
Colt rolls down next to me, hooking an arm around a knee and picking up a twig with the other. He twirls it around his fingers, as if he’s nervous and doesn’t know what to say.
“Looking forward to Vegas?” I ask in an upbeat tone, eager to have a light conversation.
He takes his time with his answer, tilting his head toward me, and for a second, before he covers his brow with a flat palm, his eyes spark alive like he just took a flash photo of me. “It’s a while yet, but sure.” His answer lacks enthusiasm and his gaze gives more meaning than his words.
I swallow deeply, not remembering what I’ve asked him or even why we are here. I up the tempo on my fanning and he smiles as if he knows what sort of effect he is having on me.
“Although I’ve been before.”
“Oh.” I chuckle nervously through a smile.
“Have you been to Vegas?”
I shake my head. I don’t know what he would think if I told him I’ve never been out of California. Other than I’m a liar. “Was it another bachelor party that you went to Vegas for?”
“No. Not really.”
“Oh.”
The twig snaps between his fingers and tension builds between us. Thankfully, he doesn’t elaborate because I sense the explanation would be painful for him. And I really don’t want to get amongst these people. If they tell me their secrets, they’ll expect me to reveal mine. And that will not happen. Their world is beautiful, and I am not. The stain I will leave will be hard to bleach away if I’m not careful and distance myself now.
Fortunately, he must not want to talk about it anymore either. He throws the broken twig on the ground and pushes onto his feet. “Shall we get going?” He holds out his hand to me and I stare at it for longer than is necessary. This guy is offering me a hand and I don’t know what to make of it. It’s like he thinks I’m worthy of a hand up, like I’m some kind of lady.
We ride back to the ranch in silence. Colt is in a reflective mood, and although he keeps close, he doesn’t look at me often. And, as I stare out over the grazing cattle and the bubbling creek and the majestic mountain range, I feel a calm I haven’t felt in a while.
Two people sharing a moment with no expectations. Both free. Both able to stay or go.
Ten
Lacey
A few nights later, a noise has me scrabbling to my bedroom window. It sounds like an animal in pain. As usual, everyone went to bed a while ago. I’m getting used to their routines, but not so much that I don’t double check the lock on my bedroom door and peer out of the window at the still night before I can relax enough to lie on my bed. I’m also familiar with the muted nighttime sounds of the horses and the cows. But this noise isn’t like that.
Leaning out of the open window, I watch bats swoop around a chestnut tree that grows at the side of the house, while I wait for the noise to come again. They dart back and forth to catch unsuspecting mosquitos.
Nothing.
With a shiver, I close the window and I’m just about to climb back into bed when the noise starts again. This time it’s more dramatic. More needy.
I’m not sure if I should wake Amber or even Colt and let them hear it for themselves.
Eventually, I decide to fathom out what I’m dealing with before I disturb anyone’s sleep. Anyway, if it’s to do with my worst fears, then I’m better off slinking out of here without a fuss.
I pull on jeans and a hoodie over my sleepwear and tiptoe down the stairs to the kitchen. Only the clock on the stove illuminates the space. I peer out from the safety of the patio doors for a while before determining it safe to venture outside. Quietly, I unlock the doors and slide them open on the effortless mechanism, just wide enough for me to slink out.
I stick close to the rough brick walls as I creep around the side of the house and I wait for my raspy breaths to quieten enough for me to focus on the sounds of the night. I can’t see anything unusual, and everything seems as it should. The ranch office is dark and all the vehicles are where they should be.
But that noise. It’s desperate now.
I follow the din toward a cowshed where an orange glow marks out metal bars that separate the pens.
I slump down the rough wood facade and peer around the door. In one pen is a black and white cow. Its eyes bulge and its neck stretches as it makes a deep guttural noise. Something is wrong with the poor thing. I turn to head back to the house so I can wake someone with more knowledge than me on these matters when a soft voice sounds from inside the barn.
“Hey. It’s gonna be okay.”
I still for a moment, while my mind recognizes the voice.
I peer my head further around the wall and find Colt knelt alongside the cow; he soothes it with long strokes of his hand across its neck. Colt’s hat hangs behind him from a nail and his shirtsleeves are pushed up above his elbows.
The cow collapses and Colt lurches forwards.
I gasp, expecting at any moment for the beast to crush him.
That’s when I see it: a blood-matted mound on the straw bedding.
I can’t stop the cry that blurts from my throat and tears flood my eyes at the shock of what is happening.
Colt jerks up onto his knees, pushing to a stand as he wipes his upper arm over his face. “Lacey, is that you?”
There’s no point in hiding or running back to the house, so I step into the light. “Yes, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to…” I will myself not to look down at the the newborn calf. Lifeless. I fix onto Colt, but a pain cuts through me when I spot his bloodshot eyes. He’s
crying.
I have never seen a man cry. Not too many women, either. But holy shit, the sight is the most humbling I’ve ever witnessed and it yanks my heart out of my chest and drop kicks it over the mountains.
The cow bellows again, and Colt turns his attention to her. Then he pulls a canvas blanket from a stall, wraps the lifeless form in it and carries it away from the cow.
Rooted to the spot, I don’t know how to help.
In an unselfish act, Colt comes back into the cowshed and hoops his big arm around my neck and pulls my head onto my chest. He’s comforting me. And it’s all it takes for me to let go.
The lid tightly screwed on my emotions pops off.
And everything pours out.
Along with snot, tears, and rasping breaths.
I’m fully ashamed. This is not about the calf, or the cow, although I can feel both of their suffering. And regretfully it’s not about Colt either, devastated because one of his animals is in pain and the other dead. It’s all about me. And what happened to me. Successive years of brutal treatment and how I was forced to put up with it.
And I can’t stop my inappropriate reaction.
Colt’s arm squeezes tighter around my neck and he brings his other arm onto my waist, caging me in until the warmth of his chest permeates into mine and we meld together with one heartbeat and one breath.
A single long press of his lips onto my crown.
A low shush of a breath in my ear.
“She’ll be okay,” he finally whispers.
I nod, annoyed at my stupid sniveling when something so awful has happened to this cow. To Colt.
I sniff and slowly raise my gaze. “Are you okay?”
He closes his eyes and opens them again with a faint uptick on his mouth. “Yup. It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last.” He rubs at his nose on his shoulder. “Still gets me though.”
I squeeze him back with arms that have never comforted a man.
And we become lost in an embrace that serves many purposes and hides many secrets without revealing a single one. It creates a connection, a deep and meaningful bond between us I don’t want to ever break.
It’s easy to blot out the numbness of my arms as they continue to squeeze around his back, to shallow breathe for longer than is healthy as his chest compresses mine, and to ignore the ache of the ball of anguish lodged in my throat. It’s easy because this moment is my salvation. And the only sad part is Colt doesn’t know that he is my savior. And instantly, I make a promise to protect this man in whatever way I can.
His grip loosens and with another warm kiss to the crown of my head, he steps back, sliding his hands to my shoulders.
“I just need to make sure she’s gonna be all right.” He jerks his chin at the cow but his eyes remain locked on mine as if he’s making sure that I’m okay with that. Which I am; I’ve had my selfish moment and he should deal with this poor animal.
“Oh, okay,” I take a step back. “Coffee?”
His stare becomes wistful. “Sure. That would be nice. I’ll come inside soon.”
Our eyes continue to engage until he blinks and reaches for a hay fork. I silently retreat.
While I make coffee, Colt finishes up with the cow. I’m sure if this was any other night I would have long gone to bed. But this isn’t any other night and so I make a cake, then wait patiently for him to have a shower and join me in the kitchen. When he finally appears, his hair is wet from the shower and the collar of his shirt is stained from the drips.
“Here.” I grab a fresh hand towel from the kitchen drawer, folding it into a tube so it wraps around his neck. His hand goes to loosen his top button and then he thinks better of it.
“It’s okay.” I smile and he starts to unbutton his shirt.
I don’t hold his stare, but I want to. Instead, I turn to cut the cake. White chocolate and raspberry. And when I turn to face him, his shirt is folded over a stool and he stands before me in just jeans and the towel hooked around his neck.
I swallow my surprise, but I’m sure it’s clear in my eyes.
He’s perfect. Tanned skin with a dusting of hair over his chest, tight abs and a belt buckle that draws my eyes to his narrow waist.
With my head dizzy from the sight, I push a slab of the cake across to him and take a huge gulp of my coffee, hoping the hot liquid will quell the butterflies flitting around in my stomach.
He eats the cake and I have a hard time watching him, my eyes repeatedly lowering to his body. The way his muscles move as he lifts a forkful of cake to his mouth and his chest rises and falls as he breathes.
He knows I’m ogling him, but he says nothing. His expression is staid, and I feel like there’s a glass panel between us and my nose is pressed against it.
The fork clangs on the plate, releasing me from the trance, and I slurp in some spit that drools from the corner of my mouth. I don’t dare lift my gaze to his face and those eyes that spark. Instead, I grab the plate and dump it in the sink, allowing myself time without scrutiny to take a deep breath.
“Do you want to…” Colt points at the couch in front of the TV set into a nook in the bookcase. “I don’t think I can sleep right now.”
“Me either.” I laugh with a tremulous sound and rub at my arms. Not because I’m cold but to keep me in the present.
“Shall we see if there’s a crappy movie on? Something lighthearted to…” It seems he’s having trouble finishing his sentences, and the air around us crackles with tension.
“Sure.” I fumble for the remote on the side and flick it at the TV. Pressing a few buttons, I can’t seem to get it to work. “Nothing’s happening.” I call over to him, checking the batteries in the case, to see if they’ve lost connection.
He comes across and takes the remote. The delicious scent of his freshly washed body hits my nostrils.
“Darn, I forgot we don’t have internet connection down here and the satellite service is long gone.” He throws the remote on the counter and looks at me with pulsing gold specks in his eyes. “We could watch TV in my room? I have internet wired in?”
My breathing speeds up as I chew over the invitation. I can’t let my anxiety rule me. I have a whole life in front of me and I need to let go of my past, otherwise I’ll be imprisoned forever by my fear.
“Okay,” I breathe.
He smiles, a dimple on his left cheek popping out. It’s the first time I’ve noticed it.
“Come on.”
He turns and I follow. Each step increases in weight.
His bedroom is not as I expected. It’s modern. And bright. There’s a large wooden slatted bed frame, covered in a stone-colored comforter, and lots of cushions. Minimalist panels of color punctuate white walls, bright under the illumination of a silver space-ship of a chandelier hung from the ceiling.
Thankfully, he dims the bright light and switches on a wall-hung TV across from the bed then hops up on to the mattress. I scour the room for a sofa or an armchair, somewhere other than the bed for me to sit. My gaze halts at a thick rope looped around the arm of a wooden chair. I swallow, winch my head back to Colt who is lost in flicking through the TV stations and push the image of the rope to the back of my mind. I circle around the bed and sit cautiously at the edge.
He rearranges the pillows that line the headboard and tugs gently on my arm. “Come on. Make yourself comfortable.” He smiles. “I promise I won’t bite.”
I shuffle up; the comforter ruffles under my legs and I rest back on the soft pillows.
He crosses his legs at his ankles and his toes jiggle. I glance up at him. Is he nervous? His face doesn’t show it.
“What about this?” He stops flicking through the channels when he finds an Amazon series, “Last Man on Earth.”
“Sure.” I can’t say I’m too concerned with what we watch, I just want to be near him. To relax next to a man and tame my anxiety by dampening down on the sirens that build inside my head.
After the credits and the customary recap o
f the last episode, he snuggles onto the pillows, lifts his arm high above my head and looks over at me. “You can come here if you want?”
Eleven
Colt
Pulling on my shirt, I punch open the swing door to the kitchen with a flat palm. Amber’s on the phone near the patio doors, hugging a cup of coffee to her chest.
I tip dregs from the coffee pot into a mug and pour in some sugar, stirring it with my finger and necking it in one go. The sugar hit at the bottom makes me wince.
Amber sneaks out of the patio doors to continue her conversation and I’m so fucking annoyed right now I can’t even be bothered to rile her for it.
I throw open the cabinet door and stick my fingers into a box of Pop Tarts. Empty, just the wrapper screwed in the bottom. No bread. No cereal. Just a lonely plastic box on the center shelf, stuffed with Lacey’s white chocolate cake she made last night. I slam shut the door on the cabinet and turn to meet Lacey, stood in the entranceway. She’s fully clothed and with her hair wound on top of her head. Her cheeks flush under my stony glare, and I fold my arms.
“Where did you get to last night?” I ask as calmly as I’m able to.
She swallows and opens the refrigerator, hiding behind the thick silver door. Boxes and bottles scrape and clang on the glass shelves.
I refrain from repeating myself, and I pace around to the other side of the island so she can’t ignore me.
She shuts the door and pauses with a carton of yogurt in her hand. She knows I’m standing behind her but she doesn’t turn to me; instead she walks toward the counter.
My blood boils.
“What did I do?” My tone is harsh. The words spill out as I barely hold on to control.
She opens the cutlery drawer and flicks it shut with her hip.
“Lacey! Stop.”
Anxiously, she glances out at Amber, who is still on her phone, but looking through at us. I don’t care what Amber sees. What she overhears.
Notes in Love Page 7
