by Jeannie Watt
* * *
CASSIE WAVED GOODBYE to Katie and the girls as they headed out the door on their way to visit Rosalie and Gloria in town, then turned and reached for the coffeepot the second the door closed behind them. Caffeine. Glorious caffeine.
After pouring her third cup of coffee that morning, she leaned back against the counter and held the mug with both hands as she sipped. Despite her exhaustion, she smiled as she watched through the window as Katie loaded the chattering girls into the backseat of her truck. Kendra and Bailey were excited to tell their great-grandmother about the new flowers they’d planted. Katie was excited to meet with the owner of a soon-to-be-opened restaurant about supplying him with fresh herbs and salad greens.
Cassie was excited to be alone.
She’d barely slept, thanks to Ray Quentin and the events of the previous evening, but she’d managed to do a pretty good impersonation of a wide-awake, carefree person while she and Katie made breakfast for the girls and chitchatted about the upcoming wedding. She and Darby had texted back and forth, both needing reassurance that the other was okay, and Katie had teasingly asked if they’d had a big evening.
Oh, yeah. The biggest.
Cassie closed her eyes and brought the cup to her lips again. Now that she had the house to herself, she could collapse in peace.
Or not.
Try as she might, she couldn’t put the events of the previous evening into perspective, and until she could, she wasn’t going to relax.
She’d pushed things with Ray, yes, but she’d done it for Darby, and she hadn’t expected things to get physical. In fact, in all her face-offs in all her administrative years, not once had things gotten physical, except for the time that Mrs. Walter hit her husband with her handbag during a contentious meeting. The poor guy had conceded a point Cassie had made and the missus had viewed it as a serious breach of their united front.
By the time Katie got back from town, she’d probably know what had happened in the Shamrock Pub, and then she’d demand to know why Cassie hadn’t told her, and Cassie would explain, quite rightly, that she couldn’t exactly bring it up while Kendra and Bailey were eating waffles.
For being a person who hated unfinished business, she certainly seemed to have a lot of it of late—her relationship with Travis being top on the list. Last night they’d fought over a door handle, then all but elbowed each other out of the way for the honor of dealing with the jerk who’d harassed Darby. They had a journey ahead of them.
Cassie gave her head a shake as she stared over her cup at the opposite wall. Travis wouldn’t have gotten punched if he’d listened to her and let her handle things, but that small truth didn’t stop guilt from twisting her gut.
You can’t change the past.
Yeah? That unchanged past is going to put a very real spin on the present and you need to deal—just as soon as you figure out how.
A meeting was in order, but she needed to wait for the right time and circumstances. Obviously the horse-training thing wasn’t going to happen, which was a shame, because at this point in her life, she was able to acknowledge something that her teen self never would have been able to—Travis knew more about horses than she did. He had more experience, and even back in their rodeo days, when she fearlessly climbed onto whatever mount she chose to ride, he knew more.
Cassie drained the last of her coffee and set the cup in the sink. Instead of feeling groggy, she was now officially buzzed, and she needed to occupy her hands while her mind worked. She rinsed the cup, then moved around the kitchen, wiping surfaces that were already clean, then checked the laundry basket, hopeful for a load or two that needed attention. Nothing.
The garden.
She walked to the window and stared out at the neat rows of greenery that abutted the drive on the far side. Even the most meticulously tended garden had weeds and she would tackle those suckers. A search-and-destroy mission would allow her subconscious to sort through the matters she needed to put in order.
Clouds were building fast to the north, so she slipped on a jacket before letting herself out of the house and heading for the garden. The wind was warm, lifting her hair, but it would no doubt turn cold once the clouds pushed closer. They were in for rain.
The soil in Katie’s big garden was damp, but not too damp. Cassie was able to walk between the rows without her rubber shoes sinking too far into the rich soil, but she was also able to easily pull the weeds that she found snuggled in between the vegetables and herbs.
Cassie got to her feet at the end of a row of lettuce, stretching the kinks out of her back, feeling just as guilty as she had when she’d started. She was about to start on the next row when the sound of an engine caught her ear. She crossed to the garden gate and then her heart gave a jolt as she recognized Travis’s truck. Automatically she glanced at her watch and saw that it was close to ten o’clock.
The horse? Really?
Or maybe he’s come for another reason.
Cassie pushed her hair back as she considered that possibility. She wasn’t ready for a face-to-face, but he’d protected her from having assault charges brought against her, and she owed him. The least she could do was to tell him that she was sorry things had turned out as they did.
Cassie’s jaw muscles tightened as she made her way to the garden gate as Travis pulled to a stop. Relax.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. How was she supposed to relax when she could see Travis’s black eye through the windshield of his truck?
Small droplets of rain began to wet the ground as Travis parked and Cassie worked her way along the row of lettuce to the gate. He was waiting for her when she got there and for a moment all she could do was to stare at his colorful and very painful-looking eye.
“Travis, I’m sorry.”
It was as if she hadn’t spoken.
The wind whipped over them in a sudden gust and Cassie caught her hair on either side of her neck until it passed. Fat drops of rain started beating around them, splattering on her light jacket and making dark spots on Travis’s felt hat. He jerked his head toward the barn, and she nodded before letting herself out of the garden and following him to the old wooden structure. Normally she didn’t accept being ordered around—even silently—but given the circumstances, she made an exception. He opened the main door and she followed him through.
Rain began to pound the roof in earnest as he shut the door. Cassie let out a breath and shook her arms to dislodge the water droplets.
“About last night,” Travis started, and Cassie lightly shook her arms again, her stomach tightening now that they were about to get into the meat of the matter. “What is wrong with you?”
Her chin snapped up. “I said I was sorry you got involved. You should have let me handle it.”
Travis’s mouth opened, then closed again so hard that his lips went white. Cassie would have shifted her weight if she hadn’t taught herself long ago not to give such an obvious tell.
“It’s my fault?”
Her eyebrows lifted. “I didn’t invite you over. You showed up.”
Travis rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “You are a piece of work, Cassie Callahan.”
“What does that mean?” she asked, planting her fists on her hips.
“It means—” he stabbed a finger at her “—that you are so relentlessly sure of yourself that you are blind to reality.”
Wind rattled the barn as she stared at him, searching for words. She had so many to choose from, so many withering ways to bring him down. She pushed them all aside. “What reality?”
“The reality of Ray Quentin doing you bodily harm.”
“In a public place? With witnesses?” But even as she spoke, she knew her argument was weak. He’d practically thrown the table that had separated them.
Travis lifted his forefinger and lightly tapped his eye.
“Admit it. You got in too deep to s
ave yourself.”
“I don’t think he would have hit me.” She didn’t. “I think he would have called me more foul names. He likes hurting women by humiliating them.”
Travis threw up his hands. “I can’t believe you.”
“That goes two ways,” Cassie said, her voice rising. That was a mistake. Yelling was a form of weakness, but she didn’t seem able to stop herself. “I was dealing with matters. You butted in.”
“I was trying to save your butt.” Now Travis was yelling.
“You didn’t need to save my butt.”
A sudden gust of wind swept over them, and they turned toward the door, which must have blown open.
“You two should be ashamed of yourselves.” Will McGuire stood in the doorway, the wind coming in from behind him.
“Grandpa—”
“I could hear you guys over the storm, for Pete’s sake.” He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
“I thought you were working in your shop,” Travis said.
“Rosalie called and asked me to bring her some things she forgot here.” Will pointed a finger at Travis’s chest. “I thought you were supposed to be helping Cassie with her mare.”
Cassie shot Travis a look. That was news to her.
“We needed to talk,” Travis said.
“Some talk.” Will looked like steam was about to roll out of his ears. “I will not have Rosalie getting upset because you guys can’t stop sniping at one another. Do you hear me? I won’t have it.” Now Will was yelling.
“Yes,” Travis said.
Will turned a truly frightening look toward Cassie, obviously waiting for a response. “Yes,” she muttered, feeling like she had when she was fifteen and had been caught toilet papering a house with Darby.
“I don’t care how you work this out, but you will work it out. You guys need to figure out a way to get through this wedding without Rosalie suspecting that you want to tear each other’s throats out. Got it?”
Travis’s mouth was a hard, flat line, and Cassie suspected that he was as embarrassed as she was, being taken to task by his grandpa. He shot Cassie a look, which she met dead-on. “We’ll work on it,” she said directly to Travis. Challenge made.
“Then get it done. Duke it out after I leave. I don’t care.” He shook a finger. “Just...work things out.” He let out one final ferocious breath, then turned and stalked out the door, banging it shut behind.
* * *
TRAVIS HAD THE OPTION of following his grandfather out of the barn, getting into his truck and driving away. Working things out with Cassie could be as easy as keeping a wide berth at family events. He had the self-discipline to do that.
But he wasn’t going to.
“Well?” He tossed the word out to see if Cassie would take control of the situation.
Cassie squeezed her forehead, looking as if she wanted to be anywhere but where she was. It was the first time he could honestly say he’d seen the fight go out of her. His grandfather had done in a matter of minutes what he hadn’t been able to do in a decade of competition. He’d shut Cassie down.
“What do we do about this?” he asked when she refused to take the ball and run with it as he’d expected.
“Fake it.” She spoke as if it was a no-brainer.
Travis shook his head.
“Why not?”
“Because,” he said as he hooked a thumb in his pocket, “we’ll do exactly what we did last night. Start off pretty decently, and then spiral into old habits.”
That earned him a frown. “Do you really think we lack the self-control to make it through family functions?”
“Yeah. I do.”
“Come on,” she said in a scoffing tone.
He spread his hands in an are-you-kidding-me? gesture.
Her mouth flattened as she looked away. “We can do it. I don’t see any other way.”
So it seemed. Travis raised his gaze to the cobwebbed floor of the loft above him, debating next moves, and then it struck him. Either a possible solution or the beginning of a battle royale.
Regardless, it was a way for him and Cassie to spend time together without witnesses and do some good at the same time. Plus, Cassie hadn’t thought of it.
He lowered his gaze and found Cassie studying him with a perplexed and somewhat suspicious frown. “We’re going do something to convince my grandfather that we can cooperate for more than two or three minutes.”
“Work with my mare?” He could tell from her tone that she knew that wasn’t the answer, but she hoped it was.
He gave his head a slow shake. “That’s not enough.”
“What is enough?”
“It’s supposed to rain the weekend of the wedding.”
“I know,” she said with a frown. “Grandma said that Will is hiring a crew to clean out the barn in case the forecast is correct.”
Travis shook his head. “No. Grandpa was going to hire a crew, but I don’t think he should do that when there are two able-bodied people who can do the job.”
She gave him a sharp look and he nodded.
“You and I will clean out the barn. We will work in harmony, demonstrating our ability to get along.”
“We will.” She spoke flatly, but it was more of a question than a statement.
“Yes.”
Her full lips twisted dubiously, teasing out the dimple at the corner of her mouth. “Are you okay?” she asked with a sudden frown, and he realized he was staring at her mouth.
Heat rose from his collar as he shifted his gaze and cleared his throat. The push-pull he experienced with this woman was driving him nuts. He was drawn to her, but he didn’t know how to interact with her. Old habits were getting in the way.
And maybe it was that realization that softened his voice as he said, “We suck at faking it, Cassie. Let’s work this out.”
To his surprise, instead of arguing, Cassie took a seat on a straw bale, loosely cupping her hands as she focused on the dirty floorboards beneath her feet. The wheels were spinning, but he had no idea what her response would be. If she said no, then they would fake it. What choice did they have?
“How much time do you think it will take?” She addressed the floor before raising her gaze.
“We’d have to assess together, but my best guess is at least a week. Maybe more, maybe less.”
“I’m giving you extra credit points for backing me into a corner.”
“I don’t want you in a corner, Cass. I want you to work with me on this.”
“Very well.” She got to her feet and held out her hand to seal the deal. And just like that, they were on the same page—but for how long?
“Two handshakes in two days,” he said as he took her hand. Her skin was as warm and smooth as he remembered and he kind of hated to let go.
“Actually, less than twenty-four hours.”
“I stand corrected.” And he wondered how many more times he would be corrected until they finished with the barn. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that they learned to deal with one another and what better way to do it than by mucking out the wedding barn?
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE MIXED SCENTS of hay and animal, topped with a healthy dose of dust, hit Travis’s nostrils as he rolled open the big bay door on its squeaky runners. When the wheels hit the bumper at the end of the rails, he stood in the open doorway studying the dusty interior as the enormity of the task ahead of him sank in. What had he been thinking when he came up with the idea of tackling this jumble of junk with Cassie?
That he’d kill several birds with one stone. The barn would get cleaned. He and Cassie would know at the end of the project if she and he could work out their differences or if they’d have to agree to live several hundred miles apart and take turns showing up at family events. And they’d save the cost of the cleaning crew.
He’d explained all that to Will over dinner the night before and Will’s only comments were that he was glad he and Cassie were working things out, and that he’d better not find blood on the walls when they got done. But Travis could tell that his grandfather was grudgingly pleased that they were making an effort.
But where to begin? The big stack of tires? The jumble of parts? All the piles of stuff that had nowhere else to go, but were too good to throw away? A cat appeared from between barrels, blinked at him, then backed out of sight. Travis wasn’t familiar with the cat—as far as he knew they didn’t have a black and white—but it wasn’t uncommon for cats to move in and he wouldn’t be surprised to find that she had a litter hidden somewhere in the junk they’d be moving. If so, she’d have plenty of time to cart them elsewhere, because it was going to take a while to haul it all outside.
He walked farther into the dim interior and stood next to the column that held up the partial loft. The ropes that he and his sister, Amanda, had swung on as kids were still on the small platform above the loft that they’d dubbed the crow’s nest, pulled to the side and fastened to an upright. Their mom had had a heart attack the first time she’d seen them launch themselves over the loft. Their father had thought it looked like fun. He’d just started fighting his battle with rheumatoid arthritis and was fully in favor of taking every opportunity to enjoy life—even the risky ones.
Travis hadn’t known then that his dad’s illness would shape his own life as well as those of his parents. Arizona was kinder to his father’s body than the brutal cold of the Montana winters, so his parents moved south close to the time Travis graduated college. Travis had returned home, and with the exception of the occasional jaunt to Arizona to visit the folks, he’d been on the place ever since. The odd thing was that there was never a time when it was a good time to leave the ranch and see a few things. Last spring, between calving and planting, he’d attempted a trip to Seattle to visit a college friend, but had been called back early by unexpected spring blizzards that stranded some of their cattle.
