“I had a few things going on,” Kinsley admitted, not sure she wanted to delve into that uncertain time of her life. Yes, she was dealing with Drake’s lack of commitment. Yes, she had some issues with his mother, but Faith was right. There had been an underlying dissatisfaction with planning wedding after wedding and with all the drama that surrounded each event. The emotions. The handholding necessary to get this event to the conclusion. At times it was all too much.
She shook her head and suddenly realized she hadn’t told Faith she had the dress.
You were occupied with other things.
“I can’t believe I didn’t say anything sooner,” Kinsley said. “But I brought the dress back from the city.”
Faith pushed herself away from the counter. “I want to go see it. Right now.”
Kinsley was only too happy to put off thinking about the wagon ride coming up, so she rinsed and dried her hands and led Faith up to her bedroom.
She pulled the garment bag out and laid it on the bed. “Do you want to open it?”
“No. You do it,” Faith said, standing at the foot of the bed. Though Kinsley knew Faith had seen pictures of the dress, she still had some misgivings. If Faith didn’t like it, they were back to square one. Negative square one, she thought.
She unzipped it, surprised to catch the lingering scent of the perfume she used to wear. The perfume Drake liked so much. She had flushed it all down the toilet after she broke up with him. Seemed fitting.
But she was even more surprised that the scent didn’t create even the smallest tinge of sadness. Instead, all she felt was relief that the stress of waiting and wondering had been cut out of her life when she ended her relationship with Drake. As she pulled the dress out Faith’s gasp told her everything she needed to know, and the look of amazed awe underscored it all.
“Ohh…” was all she could say as she came near Kinsley. She carefully lifted the gauzy skirt of the dress, holding it out. The sun streaming in through the window beside her caught the delicate sparkles scattered through the filmy material. Just enough to create whimsy, but not too much to make it look overdone.
“It is so beautiful,” Faith breathed, touching the ruching on the shoulders, the beaded waistband. “Exquisite. But then, I should have known you would have picked out a stunning dress.”
“You should try it on,” Kinsley said.
Faith needed no more encouragement. Without a lick of self-consciousness she unbuttoned her shirt and stripped off her blue jeans.
Kinsley couldn’t help a flicker of envy at Faith’s perfect body, her long slim legs, her unmarked skin.
She handed her friend the dress, helping her zip it up at the back. Faith turned, smoothing her hands down the skirt, her face suffused with wonder, looking like every bride Kinsley had worked with who had just found the perfect dress.
“It fits like it was made for me,” Faith said. Then her lips trembled, and she covered her face with her hands, a tiny sob slipping out.
“What’s the matter, sweetie?” Kinsley slipped her arm across Faith’s shoulders, giving her a gentle one-armed hug.
“It’s so beautiful,” she sniffed. “When I saw that dress that Nelly made I was so worried. I thought the whole wedding was going to flop. And now…” She swallowed and drew in a quavering breath, giving Kinsley a tremulous smile. “And now I’ve got such a beautiful dress, and it’s all because of you.”
Her gratitude created a weightless thanks. And, to Kinsley’s surprise and pleasure, not the tiniest bit of regret.
“I’m so glad you like it. It is a beautiful dress. I fell in love with it the first time I saw it.”
Then Faith’s eyes grew wide as she pressed her fingers to her lips. “I’m so sorry. You had dreams for this dress and now—”
“Stop right there,” Kinsley said, twitching the shoulder into place, fussing with the skirt, fluffing it out. “I’m glad you can use it, and I’m even happier that you love it so much.”
“Are you sure—”
“I wouldn’t have offered it if I wasn’t.” Kinsley gave Faith a broad smile. “Frankly, it’s a relief to have it out of the house and put to use. I kept thinking I should get rid of it but knew it wouldn’t be appreciated because it was so-called secondhand.”
She had dealt with more than one bride who turned up her nose at the idea of a pre-owned dress. Granted, if they could afford a wedding planner, they could afford to buy the dress they wanted and not settle. But still…
“It's like a fairy tale.” Faith sighed, lifting the filmy skirt and turning to look in the dresser mirror again. “It's so much lovelier than the one I thought was my dream dress. I can’t thank you enough.”
“Then don’t start,” Kinsley said.
Faith was about to say something more when a voice from below called Kinsley’s name.
“You better go,” Faith said, shooing her along. “Before the guys get into trouble with Tricia. I’m sure she’s trying to get the kids in bed.”
“And we don’t want Kane to see the dress before I take the pictures,” Kinsley agreed.
She gave Faith a final smile, stepping back to take another look at her old wedding dress on her dear friend.
Then, with a feeling of unexpected lightness and relief, she grabbed her camera bag, closed the door behind her, and made her way down the stairs.
“You sure you don’t want me to come along?” Mason asked, holding Sancho’s harness, stroking his nose.
Elliot gave him a warning look but only received a grin in answer.
“I don’t know if you should trust this guy,” Kane said as Kinsley approached the wagon, her camera bag slung over her shoulder.
“Not helping, brother,” Elliot said, frowning at him.
What was with these guys? It was as if they knew exactly what was happening between him and Kinsley. It was, Elliot had to admit, kind of transparent. The photo tour was simply an excuse to get her away from the ranch. Everyone seemed to know it.
Sancho shook his head, making the harness jangle.
Seamus pawed the ground, anxious to get going.
“Ready?” Elliot asked, giving her a reassuring smile.
“I hope so,” Kinsley said, but Elliot could see the concern etched on her face.
“I’ll help you up into the wagon, and we’ll just take a few rounds through the yard before we head out.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine,” Kane assured Kinsley, taking her camera bag from her.
Elliot was sure she would’ve preferred not to have an audience as she got aboard, but right now he needed Mason and Kane to help with the horses, so they had to stick around.
He climbed up behind her, helping her settle in on the front seat. She looked flushed, and her eyes were bright. He wasn’t sure if it was fear or anticipation or maybe a combination of both.
“You’ll be fine,” he said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.
Kane handed up her camera bag and Elliot tucked it behind the buckboard of the wagon. He unhooked the reins from the handbrake and threaded them through his fingers.
“Okay, wagons ho,” Elliot said. He clucked to the horses, released the brake, and with the creak and sway of the wagon, they were moving. As promised, he drove the horses around the yard, feeling more confident with each turn they made, each quick response the horses gave him. Kinsley initially sat still as a statue beside him, clinging to the side rail of the seat. But with each uneventful roll of the wagon wheels, she seemed to relax.
“Drive safe,” Kane called out as Elliot turned the horses away from the ranch yard, heading down an old wagon trail to the hills beyond.
Elliot would have much preferred to do this trail on horseback, where he had more control, but the old road was even, and they moved along at a nice steady pace.
It was early evening yet, and the sun was still high in the west.
“You should have good light for taking pictures,” he remarked.
He glanced sidelong at Kinsley, who now
had her hands on her lap as she looked around.
“You doing okay?” he asked as the horses plodded along.
“I think I’m enjoying myself,” she said with a saucy little grin.
“Well, that makes my job easier,” Elliot returned.
“Where are we headed?”
“We’ll be going up a gentle hill, to a lookout point where I’m sure Faith will want to have pictures taken. After that we’ll stay along the edge of the hill, work our way down, toward an old wooden bridge over a creek that would also be a great place for pictures.”
Kinsley picked up her camera bag, unzipped it, and pulled out her camera and another lens, which she quickly swapped out. She snapped a few pictures then checked the back of the camera, made a few adjustments, and took a few more.
“What are you checking for?”
“Adjusting for the light. Setting the shutter speed, aperture, that kind of stuff.”
“Ah yes, the old aperture-setting trick,” he said.
“You don’t fool me, you don’t have a clue what I’m talking about.”
“Hey, I just use my phone for pictures. Works for me.”
“I took a course that said the best camera is the one you always have with you. Phones can take awesome pictures these days.”
“But not as good as that beast you have there,” he said, nodding at her camera.
“Not such a beast, though I would love to try a mirrorless camera. They’re smaller, but I’m just not sold on them yet.”
“I’d ask you what the difference is, but judging from the size of that camera bag, the extra camera, and all the gear you have stashed in there, I’m thinking you’d yak my ear off.”
“No, I wouldn’t. I’m not that knowledgeable.”
“Well you must know a few things, otherwise Faith wouldn’t have been campaigning so hard for you to take the pictures. She always said that was her first priority. Pictures.”
“Over getting married?”
“Well, that’s a given.”
He flipped the reins, urging the horses on. They had noticed his distraction and slowed their pace. “Gee,” he called out, tugging on the reins to get them turning. “You feeling okay?” he asked, glancing at her.
“I am,” she said, flashing him a grin. “I’m glad you thought of this. A much gentler introduction to being with horses than riding.”
She steadied herself against the gentle rocking of the wagon. Her camera whirred a few times, and she looked at the display. Then took a few more.
“What made you get into photography?” he asked.
“I dabbled in it during high school.”
“Let me guess, yearbook and school paper?”
“You are so perceptive and yes, I’m a walking cliché. Actually, a limping one. I had my challenges trying to take pictures of the sports teams.”
“Please don’t do that,” he said, frowning at her.
She returned his look, puzzled. “Doing what?”
"Put yourself down like that."
The only sound in the ensuing quiet was the muffled plod of the horses, the jangle of the harness, and the creak of the wagon. Had he pushed too far? Said too much?
Kinsley snapped a few more pictures as they headed up the incline to the grove of trees ahead, then lowered her camera to her lap. “It’s an old habit.”
“From school?”
“From life.” She gave him a melancholy smile. “I guess it was…is a way of beating people to the comments. Making a joke before they can. That way I feel like I’m in charge.”
Elliot said nothing to that, weighing her comments, giving them the space they deserved.
“I get that,” he replied after a moment. “But you shouldn’t assume that everyone will say something negative, or even think it.”
“Maybe not, but I’ve heard enough in my life.”
“Right now I think there’s nothing I’d like more than to punch your old fiancé in the nose,” he said, assuming that was who she was talking about. “Actually, I’d like to do it twice.”
“Elliot, that’s not a good idea,” she said, but he could hear the underlying chuckle in her voice.
He pursed his lips. “You’re right. Three is the magic number.”
Kinsley laughed at that. “Then I hope you never meet him. Drake is fond of his nose.”
“I hope so too. Because he might not be as fond once I’m done.”
“I don’t think you would really do that,” she said, leaning to one side and, to his dismay taking a picture of him. “You’re too kind for that behavior.”
“Oh, you don’t know my dark side.” He shot her a teasing glance. “I am my father’s son, after all.”
She lowered her camera, her expression serious as she studied him a moment. “Zach isn’t like that,” she said, seeming to deliberately misunderstand him.
“No. He’s not. But Dennis is. Like I said, mean left hook.”
“Not everything is determined by our DNA,” she said, turning away from him to snap a few more pictures. “We can make choices. God has given us that ability and power.”
Elliot held that thought a moment, saying nothing.
“And, whether you believe it or not,” she continued. “I think God placed you in the Tye family to show you other choices. Other ways of living.”
“Well, Zach and Grace were the best examples I’ve ever had of faith in action,” Elliot agreed. “And you’re right. They showed me another way of living. Another way of thinking. I’ll be forever grateful for that.”
“So I believe that you can choose to put aside the behavior Dennis has meted out to you and choose the way Zach raised you. Choose what Zach has told you, not what your biological father has.”
Elliot held her words close, treasuring them. But, a small part of him, the part that had been repeatedly lambasted by Dennis, struggled.
You’ll never be good enough. They’re just taking care of you for the money.
“While we’re on the topic of fathers, I’m intrigued why Kane calls Zach Dad, but you always call Zach by his first name.”
Kinsley kept taking pictures as if his reply didn’t matter to her one way or the other.
But it dug into his soul, turning over the insecurities he had buried deep.
“Just habit, I guess,” he said, though that wasn’t an entirely correct answer. If he were to examine his motives more closely, he would have to acknowledge that it was more than a habit.
“I was just curious.” She gave him a careful smile. “I’m not trying to say anything by it.”
“I know. It’s just…” He hesitated. “I think I never felt like I had the right.”
“To call Zach Dad?”
“Yeah. I was jimmied back and forth so much, it was easier to call them by their first names. Plus, Dennis would have a fit if I’d called Zach Dad.” As soon as those last words slipped out, he regretted them. What was it about this woman that made him say so much? Next thing he knew he would be spewing his passwords.
“From what you told me, he seems possessive.”
“Yeah, he was. He was even jealous of my girlfriends.”
“Is that why you’re not married?”
“You’re getting personal now,” he said, nudging her as if joking.
“Like I said, you know my sad history. Let’s keep things even.”
“I’m not married, because I’ve never had the big romance,” he said, thankful for the shift from his father to his love life. Much easier topic. “Not even Carmen or Denise, regardless of what Faith and Tricia will tell you. I’ve been too busy focused on Rodeo.”
“I don’t want to denigrate your choices, but sounds like you’ve given up a lot for that dream.”
“I have…” He let the sentence trail off, his mind slipping back over the past few years.
“You look grumpy,” Kinsley said. “I hope the horses are behaving.”
“They are.” He pulled in a deep breath, a sudden loneliness coursing through him. T
he same loneliness he tamped down each time he was on the road. Each time he came back to his motel room—or tent if the weather was nice—and realized how alone he was. Sure, he had friends and rodeo buddies, but a lot of them had either a girlfriend tagging along or a wife.
Was it that same loneliness that drew him to Kinsley?
He shot her another sidelong glance in time to catch her looking at him. Once again that attraction sparked between them. Once again he wanted to touch her. Kiss her.
He got to their first destination and pulled the horses to a halt, tied up the reins, and turned to her, letting his feelings roam.
She smiled back at him, taking his hand in hers as she set her camera down.
The touch of her hand, the way her eyes held his, the emotions that sparked between them, overcame his thoughts.
He gave into impulse and drew her close.
She responded almost immediately, tangling her hands in his hair as their lips met. Moving, seeking, soft and warm.
It felt right and, after a while, as he drew back, looking into her eyes, he felt a sense of coming home. Here, on the ranch, up in the hills he rode as a young boy, making good memories with the Tye family. Now making others…
Just memories?
“And now what?” she asked, her hand trailing down his cheek, resting on his neck. Warm, soft, tender.
“What do you mean, now what?”
“I’m not sure what to do with this. Where are we going?”
He thought of her wedding dress. Of the broken promises in her past. Thought of his own plans and the question mark that would follow once he got to where he was going.
“I’m not sure either,” he said quietly. “But we could give it a chance. See where it goes.”
“And you’re heading out again this weekend?”
“Yeah. And right after the wedding again.”
“So, once you win the Canadian Finals, you’re looking to Vegas? The National Finals?”
“I’d like to win it, for sure.”
“Did your dad—Dennis—make it to the NFR?”
Taming the Cowboy (Family Ties Book 3) Page 17
