“I’m saying goodbye now,” Elliot said.
“Well then do it, do it and hang up,” his dad taunted him. “But I know you can’t. I know you miss me, and I know you need me. I taught you everything you know about saddle bronc riding. I made you who you are.”
Elliot clenched his jaw, closing his eyes as his father’s words resonated through his mind. “Yeah, you did, Dad, you made me exactly what I am.”
And then he finally did hang up on his father.
He shoved the phone back in his pocket, sucking in a few deep breaths to still his pounding heart. How could his father do this to him every single time? He thought he had gotten past all this. Gotten past the anger that his father created, gotten past the insecurity Dennis created every time he spoke to him.
One more breath, then he turned to face Kinsley. She was looking at him, her head angled to one side, a delicate frown puckering her forehead.
“I’m guessing that was Dennis?”
He gave her a curt nod then was surprised to see her face harden.
“Why is he calling you?”
“The usual. To remind me I’ll never be him.”
“Why did you talk to him?”
Her question hung between them.
“Because I’m a sucker for punishment.” As usual he was angry with himself for letting his father get to him.
“I have to confess I heard some of what he was saying. How you’ll never get your name on the trophy.” She paused there, frowning as she looked down at her hands. “Is that the reason you compete? To prove him wrong?”
Her answer triggered an immediate defense mechanism. “Of course not. I don’t care what he thinks.”
“Maybe not, but you let him talk you down. You didn’t hang up on him.”
“I did eventually,” Elliot said.
“Eventually,” Kinsley repeated.
A confusing mixture of emotions rose up in him. Annoyance, anger, frustration, all vying for attention.
“How many years have you been chasing this?” she asked.
“Probably about six. But I made it this year.”
“So what happens when you win the CFR?”
“Then hopefully I go to the NFR.”
“And after that?”
Elliot rubbed the back of his neck, frustrated at her line of questioning. “Why do you care?”
Thankfully this seemed to stop the third degree. She shifted away from him, looking to the mountains, pulling in a long, slow breath.
“This is an amazing place,” she said. “I can understand exactly why Faith wants to have her wedding here. There’s a rich heritage here. Don’t you want to be a part of it?”
A weight attached itself to his heart, pulling him down. His mind ticked back over all the things he had done, the opportunities he had missed.
“It’s not that easy,” he said. “I’ve made mistakes.”
“And you have a biological father you’re trying to please and a foster father who cares.”
Elliot held her steady gaze, not sure what to say. He struggled for an explanation, then to his dismay found he had none.
“Did you ever stop to think you might be trying to appease the wrong father?” she pressed.
As he held her gaze he realized what she was trying to say.
“You have an earthly father and a heavenly Father who only want what's best for you. Why don’t you think of them more?”
“I do, but my reality is that Dennis is a part of my biological heritage. And I’ve worried enough years I might be like him.” The admission burst out of him, the words echoing in the silence.
Kinsley was quiet a moment, as if taking that in, nodding her head.
“I’m not talking about this anymore,” he ground out, her questions beating at the protective layers surrounding his heart.
He turned away from her, unwrapped the reins, took off the brake, and headed back to the ranch.
He knew he might be letting the horses go a little faster than they should. If he had his way they would be trotting, but despite his frustration with Kinsley, he couldn't do that to her.
They came into the yard and, as if she sensed the drastic change in his mood, she grabbed her camera bag and fumbled her way off the wagon as soon as he came to a halt, not waiting for him to help her.
He watched her go, knowing he should apologize.
But he didn't know what to say. So better to say nothing. Leave things as they were. Probably for the best.
He unhitched the wagon from the team, reminding himself to move slowly. Be deliberate and not let the horses sense his anger.
By the time he got the horses squared away he had settled down somewhat, but he wasn’t ready to go back to Kinsley and her questions.
His phone rang again but this time he looked at who was calling.
Trent Siler.
“Hey, buddy, I heard you need a ride to the rodeo in Williams Lake,” Trent said. “I’ve got time off and thought we could make a road trip. Go a day early. I could be there in half an hour.”
He knew he should talk to Kinsley. Apologize to her.
But his conversation with Dennis was still echoing in his mind. Her probing questions brought up things he preferred to keep buried.
“Yeah. Sounds good to me. I need to get out of here.”
Chapter 14
“This is so exciting,” Faith exclaimed, clapping her hands like a child as she watched the crew set up the tables inside the tent. “This makes it way more real.”
Her excitement was infectious, and Kinsley had to smile. She’d had little to smile about the last few days. Last week Wednesday, after she and Elliot had finished their wagon ride, he’d brought her back to the ranch, packed up his bags, said a quick goodbye, and left.
She wondered if it was because of their conversation up on the hill. She knew she had pushed too hard, but she couldn’t seem to let it go. She felt as if she had an investment in his life.
But it was now a week later, and all she had heard from him was a few random texts, telling her to save a dance for him at the wedding. As if nothing had happened between them.
The last week had created an unwelcome and unasked for restlessness that had wound around her heart. She knew much of it had to do with her changing feelings for Elliot combined with the fact they were both on different trajectories.
“Well, I hope it’s real,” Kinsley said. “Tomorrow you’re getting married.” She lifted the camera that hung around her neck all day and snapped a one-handed picture of Faith, standing in front of the tent, looking bemused.
“It still seems so surreal,” Faith said. “I’ve been making plans for months now, and it’s finally coming together.”
And it was coming together well. The wedding party all had their clothes, the bouquets and the centerpieces for the table were being delivered tomorrow. Mason and Kane were getting the flowerpots to set out. The arch was finished and in place, and it looked stunning.
The chairs were out, ready for the ceremony.
Everything was on track, on budget, and on target. Kinsley knew she should be happy, yet that same restlessness she had been grappling with since Elliot left hadn’t settled down. A new uncertainty had entered her life since that moment up on the hill.
And if she were honest with herself, it wasn’t just Elliot. It was how much she enjoyed taking the wedding pictures. How much she enjoyed editing them on her laptop, when she was supposed to be putting the finishing touches on her friend’s wedding.
“Where do you want us to put these?” Mason’s voice behind her gave her a start, and she turned to give him directions about the plants.
Just in time to see Elliot sauntering across the yard toward her, hands in his pockets, cowboy hat pushed back on his head, smiling at her as if all was well in his world. Looking as if he hadn’t kissed her, bared his soul to her, and then took off without a word.
She should be angry, but as he came closer she saw a bruise on his cheekbone, and he seemed
to favor one arm.
He’d gotten hurt despite his promise to Faith and Kane.
She fought down a bite of anger, lifted her chin, and turned away from both of the men. “We’re arranging about nine of them at the front of the tent,” she was saying, choosing to ignore him. “There’s a fountain right inside the door, by the gift table. I’d like a few set up there as well. Seven will go by the arch, and the rest at the back of the grouping of chairs.”
“Well that’s great, but which ones do you want where?” Mason asked.
“I put flags inside each pot to let you know where they’re supposed to go. And I also have a few risers that are marked where they’re supposed to go and which pot will go on them.” She had spent most of yesterday and last night doing the pre-organizing, so that when the time came she wouldn’t have to make any last-minute decisions. Or change her mind.
“Aren’t you glad we went with potted plants?” Elliot asked as he came nearer.
Kinsley clenched her fists as she tried to reach for composure. He had walked away as if the passionate kisses they shared up on the hill had meant nothing. As if their conversation about his father hadn’t even happened.
“I’m just glad you showed up and in one piece, sort of,” she said without looking at him, keeping her tone cool.
Collected.
She watched as Kane and Mason unloaded the flowerpots. Her cell phone rang, and she pulled it out of the pocket of her pants, glancing at the screen.
“Hello, Jill,” Kinsley said, walking away from everybody to find a quiet spot, ignoring Elliot yet fully aware of him.
“How are things going?” Jill asked.
She forced herself not to look back to catch Elliot’s response to her ignoring him. “The tent is here, the flowers are getting put up. The arch is up, and the chairs for the ceremony are ready. The weather forecast looks fantastic, so I think everything is good to go.”
“That’s excellent. Of course, I wouldn’t expect anything different. You’re a very organized person.”
“Thank you for that,” Kinsley said, her future partner’s compliment feeling like a small gift.
“Just thought I would check in and see what time would be best for me to arrive.”
Kinsley sucked in a quick breath, trying to still the sudden pounding of her heart. She had always known Jill was coming, but hearing her voice say it made it a reality. "The wedding starts at five o’clock," was all she said.
Though she would be taking pictures of the ceremony, Kinsley didn't want Jill around any earlier than necessary. In her initial interview with Jill the woman had focused on one thing ad nauseam.
As a wedding planner, all your attention had to be on the day. On how things were going. You had to be one step ahead of everything. Your finger on the pulse, your eye on the end game.
Mixed metaphors aside, she knew Jill wouldn't be impressed with Kinsley taking pictures as well.
“I'm looking forward to seeing how my future partner works under pressure,” Jill said with a chuckle.
Kinsley pressed a hand to her stomach, stilling the frantic butterflies within. Her camera now felt like an anchor around her neck.
It will be fine. Everything will be fine.
“Can you remind me of the schedule again?” Jill asked.
“The service starts at five o’clock, and the dinner and reception are following right after that.”
“Excellent. I’m assuming pictures are taken before that?”
“Absolutely.”
“Glad to hear it. So many brides romanticize the whole walk down the aisle, but pictures are best taken before the ceremony when makeup and flowers are fresh. I imagine the photographer is doing a First-Look between the bride and groom at least?”
“Yes, I am,” Kinsley said. Too late she realized how that sounded. But she hoped Jill wouldn’t catch the slip. Or assume that Kinsley was in charge of setting this all up.
“Perfect. Well then, I’ll see you tomorrow at four-thirty,” Jill said. “I’m looking forward to seeing what you’ve pulled together.”
She hung up, and Kinsley held her phone in a death grip. She closed her eyes, sending up a prayer for patience.
Dear Lord, please let this all work out.
“Everything okay?”
Really? Elliot? Now?
She spun to face him, thankful no one else was around. “So you decided to join us.” She kept her expression neutral, hoping she wouldn’t falter as she held his hazel eyes.
“Well, yeah, I’m the best man. I better show up.” He angled his head to one side, his smile slipping. “You look upset.”
She chewed at her lip, trying to find the right words. Trying not to let him see how his absence had annoyed her. Did she have the right to expect anything from him?
He kissed you. You kissed him. He’s not just a guy you’re working with anymore.
But the part of her that had been worn down by her ex-fiancé took over and self-preservation kicked in.
She pointed to his cheek, deciding to go with his injuries. “I assume you got that in the rodeo, as well as that sore arm you're favoring? Going to look great in the pictures.”
“Well, you assume wrong,” he said. “And Tricia assured me I could cover this up with some concealer.”
Which meant he had stopped at the house.
"And my arm is just sore, that’s all," he continued.“That’s all? You’re lucky you didn’t get hurt worse.”
He gave her another lazy smile. “You were worried about me. That’s kind of sweet.”
His patronizing air, his idea that he could act so casual, as if she hadn’t challenged him, hadn’t had a soul-baring conversation, made her even angrier, but she had her pride. She wasn’t letting him know that.
"I just finished talking to Jill, my future partner.” That wasn’t at all the reason, but it was easier to blame her frustration on that than try to deal with the emotions he created in her. “She wants to see how everything will go.”
“We don’t need to be nervous about her. You’re amazing at this.” He took a step closer, as if he would kiss her again.
Nope. Not happening.
She slanted him a look, tired of the whole charade. “What are you doing? So you’re gone for like eight days, and you come meandering back, handing out compliments. And I’m supposed to smile and say, ‘Oh aren’t you sweet.’” The snap in her voice surprised her as much as it seemed to surprise Elliot.
“You’re angry with me,” he said.
“And the award for the most perceptive man goes to Elliot Tye.” She clutched her clipboard, tapping it against the camera still hanging around her neck. “You drag me up to the hills, you kiss me, we talk about your father, and then you just leave. You send me some random texts from who knows where, and I’m supposed to just smile and simper when you decide to show up favoring your arm, with a bruise on your face, and be oh so happy to see you. As if you can just pick up where you left off.”
Now his smile faded away. He rested his hands on his hips, looking down at the ground as he seemed to gather his thoughts. “You know it’s complicated.”
“That’s a Facebook status, not an explanation.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He sucked in another long breath, then looked up at her. “I know I needed to apologize to you after taking off. I was confused, I wasn’t sure what to think.” He looked around, then back at her. “Can we go talk somewhere quiet?”
She should say no. She had several things to check up on, but the part of her that connected with him, the part that yearned for him while he was gone, overrode her objections.
“Okay. But only for a minute.”
He gently took her arm and walked her past the tent, toward the shop where the wagon stood ready for tomorrow. He slid the door closed and turned to her.
She held her hand up, stopping him. “Don’t you dare kiss me.”
“Much as I’d like to, I need to tell you what happened.”
“I w
ould hope so.”
He dropped on a nearby straw bale, leaning forward, legs spread, his hands clasped between. “I went to the rodeo and didn’t do so great.” He glanced up at her, releasing a light laugh. “My concentration was skewed, thanks to you. Then, out of the blue, Dennis shows up. Drunk and yelling at me. It was a mess.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, feeling her anger soften a bit.
“Yeah. I was too,” Elliot said. He blew out his breath, his hands almost white-knuckled. “Later that night he got into a fight and got busted up pretty bad. His buddy called me. I went to reason with him, and that’s when I got this.” He pointed to the bruise on his face. “It’s also when I wrenched the arm I injured in the car accident several years ago. I thought we were done when another guy came charging out of the bar and clubbed him with a baseball bat. Coldcocked him. I couldn’t just leave Dennis there, so I took him to the hospital. I stuck around for a few days to make sure he was okay.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “Needless to say, I didn’t want to tell you all that in a text.”
“But you’re telling me now.”
“Because you need to know.” He got to his feet. “You need to know that I wasn’t just ditching you. I was ashamed. But as soon as I saw you, I knew you needed to know everything.”
“That makes things easier.” And it did. Hearing that he had to deal with his father knocked all the objections right out of her.
“I was hoping it would.”
“And I’m sorry you didn’t score better.”
“It was because of you, you know.” His voice grew quiet, and he moved closer to her. She kept her eyes lowered, studying his shirt. It was wrinkled, as if he had shoved it into his bag, unconcerned about how it would look when it came out. “What you said, your challenge to me…” His voice faltered.
“I’m so sorry for what you had and have to deal with.”
Elliot blew out a sigh. “Me too. I sure didn’t need my hassle with Dennis after doing so poorly. I was so sure I would win. I drew a good horse. Thought I had a good ride.”
“And what happens if you don’t get enough points?”
He shook his head. “I can’t think about that. This is too important to me to get distracted by maybes.”
Taming the Cowboy Page 19
