Riley restrained the urge to help her dress, suspecting she would not take to it kindly. Instead, he waited, trying to exude friendliness without any strings attached. Not an easy thing to do when he thought sometimes that he was made of strings. Woven together, gnarled and matted, and her name imprinted on each and every one.
“Come on,” he said, urging her along the way he might if she were one of his clients.
And she knew it, was the thing, because her dark gaze flicked to him as she smoothed her shirt down into place. “Are you talking to me as if I’m a horse?”
“All mammals get fractious when they’re not properly fed,” Riley said, somehow keeping himself from laughing. “Particularly wives.”
He chose not to ask himself why he was amused in the first place when normally, he was the opposite.
And he didn’t wait for her to come up with a thousand more arguments. He ushered her out of the barn, picking out little bits of hay that were stuck in her hair as they went. And it was saying something about how off-balance she was, visibly, that she didn’t swat his hands away.
When she veered toward her truck, he held her by the arm and marched her into the house instead.
“This isn’t a good idea,” she muttered as the door shut behind her.
Riley ignored her, kicking off his boots and tossing his hat and coat, then heading for the kitchen. Trying to give the appearance of casual, friendly carelessness. But he didn’t actually relax until he heard her kick her shoes off too.
He glanced back over his shoulder as he went to the sink to wash up and found her drifting closer, hugging herself around her middle as she followed him into the kitchen. When he was done washing his hands, she took his place at the sink while he moved over to the refrigerator.
It was a little too tempting to let himself think that things were finally back to normal. The two of them quietly moving around the kitchen together, a kind of choreographed dance they both knew by heart.
When he knew better.
Friends, he reminded himself.
“I’m starving,” he said, pulling ingredients out of the fridge.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Okay.”
He set about making an omelet. He cracked eggs into his big cast-iron pan, then threw in cheese and vegetables and whatever else caught his fancy, fully aware that what happened to catch his fancy tonight were ingredients he knew Rae liked best.
When the omelet was cooked and flipped and perfect, he cut it in half, then slid each portion onto its own plate. He set her plate down next to her where she stood with her back to the counter, slid a fork on the plate, then retreated to the other side of the kitchen to hold his own plate in one hand and eat.
He managed not to grin too widely when Rae hopped up onto the counter, picked up her plate, and started eating hers too.
And friends probably didn’t stand around eating in potentially awkward silences, he told himself. So he needed to get on that.
“What made you want to start dating?” he asked, picking a topic at random. And regretted it when she frowned at him. He kept eating as if he didn’t notice the frown. “You know what I mean. We were going along the way we always do, then you wanted to change things. It seemed out of the blue to me, but I figure you have your reasons.”
“Not at all.” She poked at the fluffy omelet on her plate, and he thought she sighed a little as she used the side of her fork to separate a bite. Surrender, maybe. “It was a completely random decision, brought on by nothing more than the urge to cause as much pain as possible.”
“Or that.”
He, personally, would have pushed. So the friendly version of himself didn’t. He waited.
After Rae had a few bites and the frown smoothed from her brow, she kept going. “We’re not getting any younger. I don’t want to … waste any more time.”
Riley could feel her gaze on him, so he didn’t look up.
“Agreed,” he said. Almost merrily.
“Well. I guess … I’m glad you agree.”
“I saw your mom in town the other day,” Riley said. Very casually. The way friendly people who weren’t pretending not to be married would, by his estimation. “She was in Cold River Coffee. With two women with Southern accents.”
“Hannah Everett’s mother and aunt.” Rae made a face. “My mom wants to recruit them into one of her charities, but they’re both really, really good at being Southern. She keeps thinking they agreed to it, but then somehow they didn’t. Masterful, really.”
“It’s that peaches-and-cream drawl,” Riley agreed. “It’s easy to get lost in. Besides, I think Ty and Hannah like having all that babysitting on tap whenever they want it.”
“I know this is ancient history, but I still can’t get my head around the whole Ty-and-Hannah thing. Secret marriages, rodeo shenanigans, and somehow they ended up happy, anyway? It’s crazy.”
Riley did not make a crack about the things love could do to a person if given the chance, but it hurt. A lot.
He made himself grin. “That’s Ty. He’s always been a little more bright and shiny than the rest of us.”
“Sometimes I catch myself feeling almost sorry for Abby,” Rae said, and she sounded different from how he’d heard her sound in this house in a long while. This wasn’t about them. This wasn’t a fight. This was Rae talking to him the way she’d used to, easy and offhanded. Kind of the way they’d been interacting out there in the Broken Wheel, except better. Less … fraught with dating nonsense and games. “I know she’s as happy as can be, but those Everetts seem like a lot of hard work.”
“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” Riley said, and laughed, surprised that it wasn’t entirely forced, either. “I guess the Kittredge family nonsense isn’t up there with mean old Amos Everett swaggering around, ruining lives.”
“You Kittredges always seem relatively well adjusted.”
“Sure. We get that a lot. Zack is a control freak with a badge. Jensen clearly has a death wish, jumping into all those fires. Connor is a clown. I’m…” For once, he didn’t feel a rush of that too-familiar darkness take him over. He shrugged, grinning. “Well, at least Amanda’s okay.”
“That’s a little harsh.” Rae bit back a smile. “Connor is a really good clown.”
“My mother is an ice sculpture. My father is a brick wall. Well adjusted all around.”
“At least no one’s flipping tables,” Rae said, grinning back at him. “Or chopping them up into firewood.”
Riley wished he’d seen Brady go ahead and take apart his family’s kitchen table. As it was, that he’d done it was already legendary. But he and Rae were having a perfectly nice and friendly conversation about their lives. Not legends.
“How’s the war going between your mother and grandmother?” he asked.
“It’s incessant, of course.” Rae laughed again, then returned her attention to her plate. “It’s one of the reasons I moved out. At least they’re not violent. Just relentless.”
“I think they like it.” She looked up at him as if what he said didn’t make sense. “I’m serious. Your mom only feels good when she’s forcing charity on someone. You know it’s true.”
“I … can’t argue with that.”
“We know that she likes doing it, because that’s all she does. But what’s the other thing she does? Constantly?”
“I see your point,” Rae said, sounding almost … rueful. “But my grandmother is a whole different kettle of fish.”
“Always has been.”
Riley remembered Rae’s forbidding grandmother all too well. She’d spent years pretending he didn’t exist when he was sitting at the same table. She’d never been all that loving to her own granddaughter. He couldn’t remember her taking any notice of Rae until a couple of years after they’d gotten married.
“Maybe your mom doesn’t like kettles. Or fish. Or your grandmother.” Riley considered. “Or maybe the pair of them get a kick out of fighting for the sake of it
. Could be it’s a family trait.”
Rae’s head was bent toward her plate, but he heard her laugh. When she looked up, his ribs got tight because her eyes were sparkling. And she was smiling. For a moment, he was almost light-headed, because this was the way it was supposed to be between them.
Though it hadn’t been for a long time. Even before she’d left.
But tonight, he was her best friend, not the man she claimed she was divorcing. He knew that if he let ghosts in, he would ruin it.
“Not that I’m suggesting you like fighting just for the sake of it,” he said.
She rolled her eyes. “Not like the entire Kittredge family is known for bullheadedness or anything.”
“My current theory on my father is that he could, at any point, open his mouth, offer his opinion, and drown us all out with the endless talking. But won’t because he knows we want him to.” He could hear his mother’s voice suddenly. You might ask yourselves where all your stubbornness comes from sometime, Riley. It isn’t me. He shoved that aside and kept his grin in place. “On some level, I almost admire it.”
“Maybe he doesn’t know what to say,” Rae offered softly. “Maybe he meant to say something a long time ago but could never figure out how. And the words wouldn’t come, year after year, until it was easier to stop trying.”
That ache in Riley’s chest got deeper and a whole lot darker.
“Maybe,” he agreed, because he couldn’t let himself chase that down. Not when this was supposed to be a friendly thing. Instead of a way for Rae to obliquely tell him things that, it turned out, after all these years, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. “I prefer to think of it as an elaborate revenge strategy.”
Rae swallowed, then visibly rallied. “If I were going to pick between your parents as to who was more likely to be plotting revenge, it would not be your father.”
Riley nodded. “That’s fair.”
“I always wanted to be like her,” Rae said, surprising him. Just like that wistful note in her voice did. “All the women in my house do is snipe at each other. But your mom is always cool, elegant. Quiet. And perfectly capable of handling horses, people, and anything else that pops up with the same ease.”
She seemed to remember herself then, and that was a shame. Riley had to fight to stay where he was. Not to go put his hands on her again, the way he suspected he could in that moment.
Because if he did, he could pick her up and have her again, the way he wanted her.
He had to remind himself that wasn’t the only way he wanted her.
But it was harder than it should have been when she looked at him, too much turmoil in that gaze of hers.
“Riley…,” she began.
“I knew you were hungry,” he said, ignoring the way she’d said his name. He crossed to her then, but only to swipe up the plate. He took both and dropped them in the sink, congratulating himself on his restraint.
“I saw your sister earlier.” He didn’t turn back around when she spoke, and Rae sighed a little. “She had some opinions she wanted to share with me.”
“Amanda is full of opinions. It’s part of her charm.”
Riley took his time turning around again, so he could lean back against the lip of the sink, cross his arms, and look casually unbothered.
He figured he hit his mark when Rae blinked.
“I really didn’t come here for … Because I get that it’s … a pretty intense mixed message.”
“I don’t see any reason for us to tie ourselves up in knots on this.” Again, Riley kept his voice low, the way he would if he and a horse were coming to terms. “And I don’t see why, until one of us really does move on, we should ignore the benefit side of our friendship.”
“Are you really suggesting we carry on exactly as we always have, but we … call it something different?”
“Modern dating can be overwhelming, I hear. Why not make sure that you relax when you can?” He grinned when she shot him a look. “What? I’m trying to help you.”
“Right. That’s what this is. Help.”
Riley wanted nothing more than to jump on that. But she was laughing again, and he wanted to bask in that as long as he could. And the more she laughed, the more they veered away from the intensity. He knew that he had to let that happen.
Because there would be time enough for intensity when she came back to him.
Riley grinned. He kept his hands to himself and his body across the room like a man who didn’t particularly care if she came or went.
Like a friend.
“That’s exactly what this is,” he told her, easy and carefree and so friendly he thought he might have dislocated something. “What are friends for?”
13
“I’m considering dating Tate Bishop,” Rae announced one evening further into November as Hope moved around the kitchen, busy preparing dinner for the house because it was her designated night to cook.
The Mortimer sisters might like to give every appearance of being completely disorganized at the shop, but that was not how they ran their home. There was a giant chore wheel that hung on the wall the kitchen, breaking down daily and weekly chores between the three of them, including the preparation of dinners every night except Sunday.
When Rae tried to pitch in, determined to do her part, the sisters didn’t like it. And refused her help.
Of course you can’t help, Hope had said with a laugh when Rae had pointed this out to her. How would we compete to be the greatest Mortimer saint of all time if you’re here, lightening the load?
She was the only one who allowed Rae to help her out, but only when it was one of her nights to cook. And tonight, she straightened from the pot she was stirring on the stove and turned around to give Rae a long look.
“What?”
The look intensified. “You know what, Rae.”
“If I knew, I wouldn’t ask you to clarify.”
“Why are you picking anyone?” Hope demanded.
“I didn’t say I was picking him. I said I thought maybe I should try dating him.”
“Right, except I know you. You’re going to settle on him, literally become blind to the existence of anybody else, and then what? Replay your entire relationship with Riley Kittredge?”
Rae jolted at that, though she tried to conceal it. “Unlikely. Since I’m not a teenager. And as far as I can tell, neither is Tate.”
Hope shook her head, and the way she turned back to her pot somehow made it worse. As if she despaired of Rae. “I get that you have a plan. That you want to date with purpose. But you haven’t actually dated anyone yet, Rae.”
“I’m a dating machine,” Rae argued. “There was dancing with Tate Bishop. And a drink. And I had coffee with Noah Connelly.”
Hope made a derisive noise. “You had coffee in the coffeehouse Noah Connelly owns. And he spoke to you, yes, but that doesn’t qualify as a date.”
That was technically true. “And then that night he came to the Broken Wheel, where I’m becoming a barfly.”
“He always comes to the Broken Wheel on Wednesday nights. You don’t know that because you’re not actually a barfly.”
“I have dressed up. I have flung my hair around. I have had a drink with whoever asks me.”
“So the one time, then.”
“I have scoped out the local talent, which I thought was the entire point of wearing deeply impractical shoes on the cold, frozen streets of town. Night after night.”
“Do you like Tate Bishop, Rae?” Hope looked back over her shoulder. “Do you think he likes you?”
“What I think,” Rae said, trying to keep her voice as steady as possible when she didn’t know why it wasn’t already, “is that I’m running out of time.”
Hope studied her for a moment that seemed to go on for far too long. “Have you found a lawyer?”
“What?”
“A lawyer, Rae.” Hope’s brows rose. “They’re generally recommended for things like divorces.”
Rae hadn’t
given a single stray thought to finding a divorce lawyer. Or to the mechanics of a divorce, for that matter. Deep inside, she felt that sharp blade prick at her. “I’m weighing my options.”
“Have you filed?” Hope’s gaze was far too steady. “You know you can download the forms from the internet, right?”
“I’m on it,” Rae assured her, smiling as Hope turned back to the stove.
She was not, in fact, on it. When she should have been. For a hundred reasons, but mostly because the game she and Riley were playing now was, in many ways, more dangerous than the one they’d been playing all these years.
Unlike Hope, he seemed to take a particular delight in talking about her dating options.
But she could hardly tell Hope that. Because if she did, she would have to tell Hope when, exactly, these discussions with him took place.
And Rae found she wasn’t prepared to announce to her friends all the benefits her friendship with Riley now contained. Benefits in her truck. In his. Benefits in the stockroom of the flower shop in broad daylight, when any customer might walk into the store. Or worse, a family member. Benefits everywhere, if very rarely at night, because Rae had no idea how she would explain sneaking off to her new roommates.
It felt like a before-and-after picture. Before, they’d been stuck in the wreckage of their marriage. Fighting, exploding with it, lighting up the night with that impossible passion that always flared between them. Now there was a lot more laughter. Silliness, even. They talked more than they had in years—though not about all the huge things that had torn them apart. About their lives, not their losses. Their parents. Their siblings. Their opinions about other people’s scandals instead of their own. Their shared memories. This valley they’d both been born and bred in and knew inside out.
Secret Nights with a Cowboy Page 16
