by Amanda Renee
“Are you all right?”
“What?” Had he groaned out loud? Crap! “I was just thinking of something I forgot to do today.” Like keep you at arm’s length. He needed to get his mind off her body before she became physically aware of his thoughts. “What does Peyton want to be when she grows up?”
“An equine veterinarian. She has ever since she could say horsey. Even after she lost her hearing, that dream still burns inside her.”
“Good for her. I’m glad she doesn’t see her deafness as an obstacle.” Maybe Ryder needed to take a lesson or two from the pint-size Logan. Especially after Nate accused him of using his incarceration as an excuse not to live his life. He may have had Chelsea wrapped up in his arms for the past hour, but he hadn’t been oblivious to the stares and whispers that followed them around the dance floor. People could talk about him all they wanted. He’d survive. Chelsea and Peyton’s reputations worried him more. Every fiber of his being told him not to let her go, but he had to. Releasing her, he stepped back and nodded toward the bar. “I could use a drink. Can I get you something?”
“Just another Coke, thank you.”
Ryder sensed a twinge of disappointment in her voice. But it didn’t hold a candle to the ache he already felt in his heart. He should have stayed home instead of leading her on and torturing himself. “I’ll meet you at the table.”
By the time he reached the bar, his desire had turned to anger. How could he have left her in the middle of the dance floor...alone? He could have at least walked her to the table. Either prison had stripped him of his social graces or he’d become an idiot during his incarceration. Who was he kidding? Chelsea was way too good for him.
“This is a surprise,” a man said from behind him.
Ryder turned to see his brother Wes, and his fiancée, Jade, standing there. “I hope it’s not a bad one.”
Jade stared up at Wes, waiting for him to respond. When he said nothing, she broke the silence between them and gave Ryder a hug. “It’s good to see you.”
“You, too.” The last time he’d seen Jade, she’d still been in high school. “I heard I have triplet nieces. I’d love to meet them.” Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Wes’s fists clench and unclench repeatedly. “Or maybe it’s too soon.”
“I think it’s a great idea.” Jade entwined her fingers with Wes’s. “Don’t you, honey?”
“No.” Wes released her hand and stepped in front of her, blocking her from Ryder’s view. “I don’t want you anywhere near my children.”
“Come on, Wes. We need to talk. Not here, but sometime soon.” Wes more than any of his brothers had understood the hell of living under the same roof as their parents. The constant war that had brewed between them had been the reason his brother had competed in any and every rodeo he’d qualified in. Frank and Bernadine’s dysfunction had taught Ryder how not to behave in a marriage.
“Why did you come back to Saddle Ridge?” Wes asked.
“Because I wanted to be near my family.” The silence surrounding them screamed louder than a freight train. When had the music stopped? Ryder looked from face to disapproving face of the former friends and neighbors he’d grown up with. He’d known they’d need time to adjust to his being home, but he hadn’t expected the mob mentality as they gathered behind his brother.
He could hear Tori swear as she pushed her way through the crowd. “What the hell is wrong with you people?” She scolded them before stopping in front of Wes. A foot shorter than his brother, she could drop any man to his knees with her death glare. “How dare you start this in public.” She jabbed the front of Wes’s shirt. “And how dare you show your face tonight if you had a problem with Ryder showing up, too.”
“Me?” Wes puffed his chest. “I have every right to be here.”
“So does your brother.” She took a step closer. “He served his time for the accidental death of your father. Do you hear me, Wes? Ac-ci-dent-al.”
“Okay.” Ryder squeezed between them. “That’s enough, Tori. I don’t need you standing up for me. Wes can feel however he wants to feel ab—”
Ryder never saw the punch coming. Just shy of the sweet spot, his brother knocked him to the ground with one solid blow.
“Oh, my God!” Jade shouted. “Wes, what did you do?”
“It’s all right.” Ryder picked up his hat and rose to his feet. “He’s wanted to do that for a long time. It doesn’t make me love him any less.” Despite Wes’s own issues with their father, the man had still been their father, and his death had eliminated any chance of them ever reconciling their differences.
“Let’s go.” Jade yanked Wes’s arm until he relented and followed her out of the barn.
“Give me a shot of whiskey.” Nate smacked the bar top behind him.
“You’re bleeding.” Tori handed Ryder a wad of napkins. “He had no right to do that.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not surprised.”
“Hopefully he got it out of his system now.” Nate handed him the shot. “Here, this is for you. You look like you could use it.”
“Thanks, man.” Ryder closed his eyes as he tossed back the amber liquid. The smooth smoky sweetness burned as it slid down his throat, briefly taking away the pain along his jaw. The band began to play as the crowd faded into the background once again. He set the glass on the bar and turned around to see Chelsea standing at the edge of the dance floor with Peyton, watching him.
Yep. He should’ve stayed home tonight.
Chelsea hated Mondays, especially when she still had Saturday night on the brain. It wasn’t so much what had happened between Wes and Ryder, although it had frightened her when everyone at the dance stood behind the younger Slade. Or that her daughter had witnessed the spectacle and asked a million questions when they got home. None of which she could answer. It had been Tori and Nate’s reactions. Tori had defended Ryder as if her life depended on it, and Nate had not only let her, he’d bought Ryder a drink afterward. She couldn’t put her finger on why that had bothered her, but the situation felt off somehow. Especially after her conversation with Tori earlier that night.
Her office phone beeped, jarring her to the present. The screen displayed Stephen Jacobs’s name, the senior partner who had warned her about Ryder the other day.
Chelsea pressed the intercom button. “Yes, Mr. Jacobs.”
“Will you come to my office, please?”
She checked her watch. “I’m meeting with clients in a few minutes. Is it possible to wait until after they leave?”
“No, it’s not.”
Chelsea closed her eyes and sighed. “I’ll be right there.”
The walk between her office and Stephen’s reminded her of a scene from a bad horror movie. The one where the buxom blonde walks down a long corridor and opens the closed door at the end, but the audience knows she’s about to meet a violent death.
She gripped the knob, glancing over her shoulder one last time before turning it. And sure enough, half the firm had poked their heads out their doors to watch.
“Wonderful.” She drew her shoulders back and pushed open the door. “Mr. Jacobs, you wanted to see me.”
“Have a seat, Chelsea.” He motioned to the leather chair across from his desk without even the courtesy of meeting her gaze.
She closed the door behind her and checked her watch again. Two minutes until her nine o’clock appointment arrived if they weren’t in the lobby already. She’d never been one of those attorneys who made their clients wait. Tardiness and rude were synonymous in her book.
“The other day I spoke with you about Ryder Slade and how your relationship with him had been brought to my attention.” Stephen leaned back in his chair and deadpan stared at her. “At that time, you told me there wasn’t a relationship. This morning I was not only told otherwise, I saw a video of you and Mr. Slade dancing rather intimately Saturday nig
ht.”
Chelsea’s blood simmered beneath the surface of her skin as she fought to keep her annoyance under control. “With all due respect, who I date or don’t date is none of this firm’s business, and therefore, none of yours.”
Stephen’s head tilted ever so slightly at her rebuke but he remained expressionless. “No, but the contract you signed has a morals clause. As an employee, you are held to certain behavioral standards so as not to bring this firm into disrepute.”
He can’t be serious. “And I have adhered to those standards. Dancing with Ryder Slade in no way disgraces this firm.”
“What about the incident that occurred?”
“The one where his brother approached and punched him with no provocation whatsoever? That incident?” Chelsea slid forward in her chair, perched on the edge and doing her damnedest not to storm out of his office. “Ryder Slade is on parole and free to go anywhere he wishes in this town. There are no restraining orders preventing him from doing so. The man accidentally killed his father, pled guilty, served his time and now he’s out. Again, my friendship with Ryder is irrelevant.”
“Let me ask you something, Chelsea.” Stephen clasped his hands in front of him on his desk. “Say you’re in the middle of a custody case and you’re representing the father. What would you do to the mother on the stand if she was dating a parolee who had been convicted of killing his father?”
A bead of perspiration trickled down her spine. Stephen had purposely raised the heat in his office and had probably pocketed ice packs under his jacket. As a criminal attorney, he’d been known to use the tactic while deposing the other side.
“I would try to discredit her on the stand...”
“Exactly.” He grinned in satisfaction.
“You didn’t let me finish. I would try to discredit her on the stand if adequate proof existed that the man in question was a threat to her or her child. The sole fact he’s an ex-convict won’t hold up in court. Any judge will toss that argument.”
“Any sworn judge. Our clients are their own judges and juries when it comes to these matters. You don’t have to worry about your nine o’clock meeting.” He reclined against the back of his chair. “They contacted me personally over the weekend. The Williamsons no longer feel comfortable with you as their attorney, or with us as their firm.”
“They walked?” Chelsea’s pulse drummed in her neck.
“They ran.”
She didn’t know what to say. What could she say? She refused to defend her actions any further. She didn’t regret dancing with Ryder and she refused to allow anyone to condemn her for it. But in the same breath, she needed her job. She needed clients to trust her enough to believe in her abilities to represent them.
“Do you have anything to add?”
She lifted her chin, determined not to show fear. “Are you firing me?”
“No, you are too valuable of an asset to this firm.” Stephen rose and came around to the front of his desk to stand before her. “But this can’t happen again.”
Chelsea stood, refusing to allow him to tower over her. In heels, she was almost an inch taller than him. “Are you referring to Ryder or losing clients?”
She hid a smile of satisfaction as she watched his Adam’s apple bob when she used his own tactic against him.
“Well.” He strode to the door, increasing the distance between them. “I would like to say both, but we know I can’t do that. My recommendation is to either keep your distance from Ryder Slade or improve his image.”
She hated to agree with Stephen after his little power play, but maybe he was onto something. Ryder wanted nothing more than to make amends with his family. If they saw him in a different light, they might forgive him or at least begin to, and the rest of the town would follow suit.
“You may have just given me an idea. But I’ll need your help.”
Stephen’s hand slid from the doorknob he was about to turn. She’d never seen him defeated or wary before. At least not of her. “With what?”
“I remember a client—this was shortly after I started working here—who ran an at-risk youth program on a ranch nearby.”
“The Bloodworth Ranch in Whitefish. The owner’s name is—let me think—Drew... Drew Kent. I represented a parolee that ended up working there. Is that what you want? For me to get Ryder a job there?”
“Yes and no. Ryder already has a job and they desperately need him. But, volunteering at an at-risk youth program would help rebuild his character.”
“It might.” Stephen rubbed his chin. “I must admit, I honestly figured you would’ve taken the easy way out and walked away from Ryder. Either there’s something serious brewing between you two or you really believe in him.”
“I believe in him.” She didn’t know why. In the back of her mind, it had something to do with Nate and Tori’s reactions Saturday night. The three of them were hiding something, and she suspected the truth was more to Ryder’s benefit, not his detriment.
Stephen returned to his desk and jotted down a note. “I’ll give Drew a call and see what he says. I’ll let you know.”
“Thank you.” A powerful relief filled her as she strode to the door and opened it. Her idea had potential especially if Stephen advocated for it alongside her. Somehow, she’d convince Saddle Ridge to give Ryder a second chance.
* * *
The Williamsons had done Chelsea a favor. She had planned to spend part of the afternoon drafting their wills, but since they were no longer her clients, she used that time to visit the Bloodworth Ranch. Despite Stephen’s earlier antics, he remained true to his word and got in touch with Drew that morning. Since Ryder would be a volunteer, he had no qualms about his working there a few hours a week. That was if she convinced Tori to let him have the time off...with pay as part of a community project. She wasn’t sure which would be harder...convincing Tori to spare Ryder for a few hours and take the tax write-off or talking Ryder into taking the job.
She pulled into Free Rein’s parking area after picking up Peyton from school. That alone had been a rare luxury. She’d run into Tori while she waited for classes to let out and asked if she had time to chat today. Tori cautiously agreed, and Chelsea wondered if she thought she’d attack her again about Ryder. She hoped her generosity mirrored her relief when she heard why she was there.
“Mommy, look!” Peyton shouted much louder than she had probably intended, unaware of the intensity of her voice. After three years, it still caught Chelsea by surprise.
She followed her daughter’s gaze to Ryder, who stood in the center of a round pen lunging a stunning black mustang. The majestic animal trotted in a circle around him as he held the lunge line in his left hand and a whip in the other. Peyton gasped when she saw him tap the horse’s rump with the whip. “It’s okay, sweetheart.” Chelsea signed. “Ryder’s not hurting him. He’s correcting the horse’s mistakes.”
“But he looks perfect already.”
From a distance he did, but she wasn’t a horse trainer. “You know how Mommy used to sit behind you and guide your hand as you learned how to write your letters? Ryder’s doing the same thing. He’s guiding the horse.”
Satisfied with her explanation, Peyton dragged her inside Tori’s house, without so much as a knock. She beelined to the kitchen and climbed up on the stool at the breakfast bar where Tori had already set out a plate of peanut-butter-covered sliced apples. Chelsea set her handbag on the polished granite and watched her daughter happily tell Missy about a boy she had a crush on. Tori joined in, reminding them both they were too young for boys.
For the briefest of moments, Chelsea felt like an outsider in her daughter’s life. She imagined this had been Peyton’s daily routine before she took it away. There wasn’t anything wrong with her having a daily routine with Missy and Tori, she just hadn’t been aware there was a routine outside of the one they shared.
“I hope you coming here today means you’ll allow me to pick her up from school again.”
Peyton watched her intently, waiting for her response.
“If you’re okay with it, I am too,” Chelsea signed.
“Thank you, Mommy!” Peyton hugged her with one arm while she munched on her apple slice with the other.
“She’s welcome here anytime.” Tori ruffled her hair. “I’m glad you changed your mind. After the other night, I wasn’t sure.”
Chelsea nodded toward the great room, and Tori took the hint. She wanted to discuss Ryder and the Bloodworth Ranch without prying eyes.
“Is Nate around?”
“He’s on his way to Nevada to retrieve his trailer and pay off the transport fees on the mustangs he rescued.”
“Is that one of them with Ryder?”
“Oh, no. They won’t come near humans for a good while. We need to earn their trust after the way they’ve been treated.” Tori tilted the thick wooden slats of the blinds overlooking the round pen. “That’s Cactus. I named him that because he was a prickly thing when he first arrived. He’s been here for two years and has the most potential.”
“Will you put him up for adoption?”
“No.” She returned her attention to Chelsea. “Don’t tell Ryder, but that’s his horse. It doesn’t make up for his mother selling Dante after his arrest, but Cactus took an instant liking to him when he arrived. They seem to understand each other.”
Chelsea continued to watch Ryder through the window as she envisioned his muscles flexing beneath his tan flannel shirt. “Any idea who bought Dante?”
“I know exactly who bought him, but he’s been unwilling to sell him back to me or Harlan. He’s a good horse, and he doesn’t feel Ryder deserves him. Harlan continues to try though.”
“At least he doesn’t feel the same way about Ryder that Wes does.”
“If you had told me Wes would have reacted that way, I’d have said you were crazy. I’d like to believe Dylan and Garrett are better behaved than that, but now I’m not so sure. Ryder doesn’t deserve the pariah treatment.”
