Wild Card

by Karina Halle

  And I believe him. Because it’s Shane.

  Just like he says, the lightning and thunder move on and the hail stops.

  “Wow,” he says, looking around at the white studded landscape. “That was kind of cool.”

  I nod. I’m not sure what I’m still hung up on—the storm or the fact that he kissed me.

  He kissed me.

  “Come on,” he says. “We’ll ride Teddy back.” He unties Teddy and climbs on, holding his arm out for me. “I’ll pull you up.”

  Teddy isn’t a tall horse, but even so I’m wary about trying to get on this way. I take Shane’s hand and he pulls me up. It’s awkward, but I manage to sit right behind him in the saddle, my legs pressed against his, my chest against his back. I know we just kissed but this feels even more intimate.

  “So much for ravens being good luck,” I say as we start to ride into the trees and back down the mountain. I tighten my arms around his flat stomach.

  “You don’t think so?” he asks.

  I stare at the golden hairs on the back of his neck, wondering if my breath is tickling them. I wonder what would happen if I put my lips there. I wonder if these kinds of thoughts will ever go away or if I’m destined to think of Shane like this forever.

  You love him. You love him, you love him.

  I swallow. It feels like I have sawdust in my mouth. “Moonshine ran away on you. What if you never get him back?”

  “Moonshine went right back to the stable. I promise,” Shane says confidently. Then he lowers his voice. “And maybe if we hadn’t seen the ravens, I would have never had the courage to kiss you.”

  “Oh,” I say softly, my fingers pressing harder into him.

  “And maybe you never would have kissed me back,” he adds. “And I don’t think I could have ever truly lived without knowing what your lips felt like.”

  Oh my god. He’s being so romantic. My lips are starting to tingle just from his words.

  “Shane,” I say to him, resting my head against the back of his shoulder.

  “What?”

  “What does this mean?”

  He doesn’t say anything for a moment. “That I kissed you?”

  “Yeah. Are we still friends?”

  “We’ll always be friends, Rachel,” he says, and his voice is deep and serious. “Always. But now, I hope we’re more. I like you. I like you a lot.”

  “I like you a lot, too.”

  “More than a friend?”

  “Way more than a friend.”

  It feels good to actually say it. So good. We ride in silence for a few moments and I close my eyes, breathing him in, feeling his heart beating through his back. I don’t ever want this ride to end.

  “Shane?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What did you wish for on that wishbone? Remember?”

  “I remember,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “But I can’t tell you.”

  “That means it hasn’t come true yet.”

  “No, it hasn’t.” He pauses. “But it will. One day, it will.”

  8

  Rachel

  “Is there a Miss Rachel Waters in the house?” A low, gruff voice calls out.

  I jump, totally startled, and finish soaking a hand towel in cold water before I turn off the kitchen tap and turn around to see an imposing silhouette standing in the doorway, holding a handful of Queen Anne’s lace.

  “Fox?” I ask, pressing the cold compress against my forehead, trying to cool down. “Is that you or am I dreaming?” I walk toward him, more than surprised to see him.

  “In the flesh,” he says, handing me the flowers. “Welcome back.”

  I take the flowers with a big smile and find myself enveloped in a big bear hug. Like his brothers, Fox is tall and strong with muscles like a beast. I’m practically crushed against him.

  “My god, you’ve turned into the Hulk,” I tell him. “Sweaty like him, too.”

  He pulls back and looks down at himself, casually dressed in cargo shorts and a thin grey shirt that’s clinging to his sticky skin. “Actually, I’ve lost about twenty pounds this month. It’s been a fucking nightmare.”

  “I can imagine. I don’t know how you do what you do.”

  He shrugs. The man has one of the most dangerous jobs and yet never lets it go to his head. “This is the worst year for wildfires since the fifties or something. It’s getting so bad, we have firefighters from Mexico coming up to help us. New Zealand, even. I’m lucky I even got a couple days off to come home. Just enough time to rest and eat before I’m sent out again.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re here,” I tell him shyly. Fox was always the most intimidating of his brothers and the relationship between him and Shane was strained at times for a few reasons, but I’ve always liked the guy. He can be really unpredictable and has a temper that sometimes gets the best of him, but he’s honest and intuitive and genuinely cares about people. I guess you’d have to if you’re willing to risk your life for them day in and day out.

  “The moment I heard you were in town, I had to come see it with my own eyes. You’re looking good. Really good. I can’t believe it’s been that long.”

  “At first it felt like I’d been gone for a million years, but now that I’m here…”

  “It’s like you never left.”

  “Exactly. Except it’s way hotter than I remember.”

  I pick up the wet dish towel and press it against the back of my neck, my hair piled high on top of my head. It’s already warm to touch.

  “You really need an air conditioner in this old place,” Fox says, looking around. “I’ll tell Dad it’s a worthy investment. I’m sure Shane could set it up pretty quick.”

  “I’m sure he has enough to do,” I tell him, taking the flowers into the kitchen and filling up a vase with water.

  Fox lingers by the door. “Have you talked to him?”

  “Shane?” I place the flowers in the vase and put it on the middle of the kitchen table. Pretty.

  “Yeah.”

  “Yeah, we’ve exchanged some words,” I tell him. Other than the first day I came to Ravenswood, I actually haven’t seen him. Either I’ve gotten really good at avoiding him or he’s gotten really good at avoiding me.

  “But have you really talked?”

  I frown as I glance at him. “About what?”

  “About what happened.” I don’t say anything and wait for him to go on. “Look, I know it was a long time ago and you’re probably over it but…I don’t think Shane is.”

  I let out a dry laugh. “I doubt that. I think Shane was over it, over me, way before it happened. Besides, I know he went out with Kristen McGee.”

  Fox scratches at his dark beard and grins. “I’m pretty sure he did that just to try and get under my skin. Didn’t work, of course.” He clears his throat, his features growing serious. “I don’t want to get involved with Shane’s life, nor yours, but honestly…there’s a lot more to this than you think.”

  His words stab at me and I look at him sharply. “What do you mean?”

  He opens his mouth to say something but stops and turns around, listening.

  I peer around him. Speak of the devil. Shane is coming up from the house, heading toward us, dressed in jeans, cowboy boots, a black t-shirt with the White Zombie logo on it, and a cowboy hat. His skin is dark and golden from long hours in the sun, his eyes trained on the ground. When he’s hanging around in town, Shane wears stuff straight out of the 90’s grunge era but when he’s on the ranch and working, he’s in full-on cowboy mode.

  Fox gives me a look that says me he’ll tell me later. Or maybe that look doesn’t mean that at all.

  “Hey,” Shane says as he approaches us, stopping a few feet from the porch. I look at him briefly, the swipe of dirt across his cheekbone, the trickle of sweat at his throat. My stomach feels fuzzy and light just from looking at him.

  This isn’t good.

  “Hey,” Fox says. “How are you?”

  �
�Not too bad.” Shane looks over at me and nods, then looks back to Fox. “Dad told me you wanted the shoes off?”

  “I think it would help.”

  “Shoes off?” I ask, coming over to them.

  “Horseshoes,” Fox explains to me. “It’s not so bad right now, but if it doesn’t rain again soon, it’s going to get worse, and if you’re out riding on the range and the horseshoe strikes a rock, it can create a spark. That’s all it takes sometimes to set this place ablaze.”

  “It won’t be a problem,” Shane says, taking off his hat and wiping his brow. “We’ll have to go out and move some cattle later in the week but Polly and the other horses are fine without their shoes. Are you staying for dinner?”

  I can’t help but pick up on the tone in Shane’s voice. Both wary and hopeful all at once.

  “I need to get home and just take a load off,” Fox says. He grins at me. “Just wanted to come here first and see Rachel while I had the chance.”

  “I’ll see you before you go, right?” I ask him, not wanting him to leave.

  “Hopefully.”

  He then turns and walks past Shane, giving him a quick punch on the shoulder as he goes. That’s pretty much the extent of their relationship.

  I expect Shane to follow behind him—when we were growing up, sometimes Shane followed Fox around like a dog looking for scraps—but instead he walks up the steps and hovers on the porch, staring at me.

  “How did you sleep last night?”

  His expression is honest and open. Shane has a face that makes you want to tell him a million secrets. I swear somewhere in my chest a little piece of my heart is breaking off.

  “Fine.” I clear my throat, twisting the towel in my hands.

  “You moved in okay?”

  I nod. “No problems. We had a lot of help.”

  “Sorry I couldn’t be there. I had to fix some of the irrigation pipes.”

  “No worries.”

  We both lapse into silence as Shane continues to stand there.

  I think about what Del said yesterday about closure.

  Face it. Face it, face him, and move on.

  I gesture to the rocking chairs on the porch. “Want to come in and put your feet up? I made some lemonade earlier. You look like you could use it.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I nod. “It’s fucking hot as balls.”

  That makes his mouth quirk up into a half-smile. Shane never smiled very much; he was always so serious, but when he does, it’s like the sun bursting through the clouds. When I was younger, I did whatever I could to make him smile, just because it made my heart feel like it could fly away.

  “All right then,” he says, stepping onto the porch and sitting down on one of the chairs.

  I turn and head to the kitchen, taking in deep breaths, trying to calm my nerves. I feel hotter now than ever so I splash cold water on my face and the back of my neck before I pour us each a mason jar of lemonade.

  Talk to him. Get it all out.

  I step back outside and give him a small smile as I pass him his drink. I catch a whiff of him as I do, and that fuzzy feeling in my stomach intensifies. He smells like I remembered. Dry grass and sunshine and sage. He smells like the very earth itself. Home.

  You can do this, I tell myself, ignoring all those stupid feelings fluttering up, the fact that my heart is starting to race.

  “Thank you,” he says, and he stares at me so intensely that I feel my skin ignite, an inferno growing within me.

  A memory takes over—us making love in the hayloft, him so deep inside me in body, heart, and mind that I could swear the whole barn was going to go up in flames.

  Run away with me, I’d whispered to him.

  I’ll go wherever your heart is, he replied.

  “I know this must be quite the change,” Shane says as he sits down in the rocking chair, bringing my attention back to him, to this Shane in the present. He rests his elbows on his thighs and stares out at the view. His forearms are large, tanned and sculpted, and I know they’re strong enough to throw a two-hundred-pound calf over his shoulders. “No skyscrapers here.”

  I’m so focused on his body that it takes me a moment to respond. “No. But it’s a nice change of pace.”

  “How long do you think you’re going to stay?”

  I shrug, hating how up in the air all of this is. “I went with my mom to the hospital the other day. The doctors are trying to get her an appointment for her surgery in either Kelowna or somewhere near Vancouver. Even though it’s, like, fucking cancer, there’s still a waiting list. And of course, I can’t even pay her way since there are no private clinics here. Still, they said it shouldn’t be more than a few weeks. Fingers crossed.”

  “That’s a lot longer than I thought. Is your job okay with that? All your time off?”

  I exhale, the stress from earlier creeping back. “They say they are. It’s coming out of my vacation pay now, which sucks because I never take vacations and really wanted to keep that.”

  “Why don’t you take vacations?”

  I give him a steady look. “Do you ever take vacations?”

  “Fair enough. It’s rare that I even get an evening off. And anyway, what would I do? For me, all I need to do to have a break is go down to the river or the lake or the hot springs and sort myself out. Maybe go fishing with Maverick. Otherwise, it’s a pretty good life. I can’t ask for much more.”

  I have to admit, I’m both envious and happy for him. Envious because growing up, this is all Shane wanted to do and he’s doing it and it makes him happy.

  He also said he wanted to marry you one day, to have lots of babies, a voice inside me says, forever dredging up the past.

  “Well,” I say, “it’s not like I wouldn’t want to jet off to Cuba for a week or spend some time traveling across Europe, but the moment I go, the moment my job becomes vulnerable. There are too many people at the agency dying to have my spot and I’ve worked too hard to let it go.”

  He frowns, shaking his head, has a sip of his lemonade, licks his lips. God, those lips. They gave me my first kiss, whispered secrets, promised me the world. “That doesn’t sound like a fun career to me.”

  I look away, feeling slighted. “It is a fun career. I mean, it’s exciting and challenging and there’s always something new to learn.” I don’t add that I think it’s giving me an ulcer, nor the fact that my doctor has prescribed me medication for anxiety which started flaring up again when I started this job.

  “I have to say, when I heard that’s what you were doing, I was surprised. All that time together and I never once heard you mention any interest in advertising. When we were growing up, all you wanted to do was breed horses and have a garden.”

  “I have a garden,” I say stubbornly, thinking of my potted plants on my balcony which are probably all dead now because I forgot to get someone to water them. “And I just kind of discovered advertising in university. I was going to do communications but advertising pulled me in.”

  “Too many episodes of Mad Men?” he asks.

  I smile. “Shane Nelson, I am shocked you know of a TV show. How else have you changed? Are you doing Netflix binges like the rest of the world?”

  “I’ll have you know I’m not as ass backwards as you remember.”

  “Oh really? Tell me one thing that proves otherwise.”

  “I’ll have you know that I have my own Instagram account.”

  My mouth drops open. “Oh, you do not.” I start reaching into my pocket for my phone, ready to call him on his bluff.

  “Actually, it’s Polly’s,” he says. “Or it was until I realized horses can be pretty damn boring. And then it became Fletcher’s, because, you know, it’s Fletcher and that dog is a ham. And the chickens started making an appearance. Sometimes a few calves and heifers. So really, now it’s the account for all the animals here.”

  I glance at my phone, not surprised that Samuel still hasn’t texted back to my I miss you, and then open Instagram.
I have my own account, too, but it’s private and I rarely post. I mainly use it to follow our clients or other ad agencies to see what they’re doing.

  “Look up Ravenswood Ranch,” he tells me, and I type it in.

  Sure enough, there’s an account composed of artfully taken photos of the animals with “punny” captions. He posts every couple days or so, and there’s already over 1,000 followers which is a lot for someone who obviously isn’t trying very hard.

  “You almost look impressed,” he says.

  “The key word is almost.”

  He grins at me, and for a moment I’m shocked at how damn easy our banter is. For a second, it’s like nothing has changed at all. For a second I feel like I’m home.

  And for once, I don’t push the feeling away.

  But as we’re staring at each other, smiling, his grin begins to falter. He slams back the rest of his lemonade and gets up. “Thanks for the drink. Cooled me right down.”

  He hands the jar to me and I’m so taken aback at how abrupt he’s being that I almost don’t feel that tiny spark when his fingers brush against mine. And let’s be honest, it’s not a tiny spark but a surprising jolt of electricity.

  “Where are you going?” I ask as he starts down the steps.

  He raises his brows, probably as surprised as I am that I asked that, and puts on his hat. “I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  “Oh,” I say, and I’m surprised at how disappointed I feel. It’s not that I didn’t get a chance to properly talk to him, it’s just that it was so easy just now. It felt like old times and it felt good.

  “See you around, Rachel,” he says, tipping his hat to me like a goddamn old-fashioned cowboy, then saunters off toward the ranch house. Naturally, my eyes are trained on his ass as he goes.

  I watch until he disappears and then exhale so harshly, it’s like I’ve been holding my breath this entire time.

  A few days pass and it’s funny how I actually don’t see Shane around. My mother and I have eaten dinner at Hank’s twice and Shane was off somewhere, doing something or other. I get that the man is busy, but now I know for sure he’s avoiding me.