Her Hidden Falls Anti-Hero Cowboy

by Taylor Hart

  She gulped and wiped her eyes, again. “It’s okay. Really.” She smiled and this time it reached her eyes. “Do you need a room?”

  “I already have one.”

  “No? Vincere Real Estate?”

  “Yep.”

  She covered her face and let out a laugh. A mischievous laugh. The kind of laugh he’d heard many, many times growing up. Star may look pretty, but she had a wicked side. “What?”

  She shook her head and looped her arm through his. “Well, I guess the witch was right.”

  Ryan stopped before they went through the door. “Am I missing something?”

  Star patted his arm. “Welcome back, Romeo.”

  Chapter 4

  Charlotte picked out a can of peaches and tossed it into the cart.

  “And I could sell the raffle tickets to Grandma and Mr. Harris and . . .” Sam tapped the end of his chin and pinched his seven-year-old face tight.

  “Yeah.” School fundraisers would be the death of her. The complete and utter death of her. She got that the school needed money. She really got that, but c’mon, why did they have to pimp out her child to sell things. They were only nine weeks into the year, and this was the third fundraiser. Charlotte needed to get the grocery shopping done and head back home to help Sam with his homework.

  Sam did a small hop and pointed his finger into the air. “And the Hardman’s. I could go over there and ask Beau and Sean.”

  Charlotte thought of Ryan’s brothers. They still owned and lived on the ranch next to her mother. “No, I don’t think so.”

  Sam’s whole countenance collapsed. He’d always been a sensitive child, and since the divorce it felt like anything could get in the way of what Angela would term his “chi.” “But I want to sell fifty raffle tickets. If I can sell fifty, I’ll get enough entries to have a pretty good chance to win the telescope.”

  His voice had that whine. The whine that tipped her off that he definitely needed to get to bed early tonight. She hadn’t even wanted to take him to the store, but some nights a single parent had to do what a single parent had to do.

  Charlotte picked up her pace in the grocery aisle. “When we check out you can ask Mr. Harris if he wants to buy some.”

  This made him blink and suck back some of his emotion. “All right.”

  Charlotte’s phone rang in the rock and roll blare that she usually turned down before going out of her house. Of course, it was buried deep inside her purse. She scrambled for it.

  Sam took this as his opportunity to escape. “I’m going to go ask Mr. Harris.”

  She waved him off, knowing Mr. Harris would make him happy by buying some of the raffle tickets. She didn’t have time to check who it was, so she braced for the worst, her ex. “Hello.”

  “Dearest daughter of mine.”

  The small tightness in her gut instantly fled. “Hey.” She’d wanted to return her mom’s call earlier, but the inventory had taken her longer then she’d anticipated. “Sorry, it’s been crazy today.”

  “I forgive you for ignoring your aged mother.”

  Charlotte rolled her eyes. “You’re not even fifty yet.”

  “You’re right,” her mother conceded quickly. “And I look like I’m forty.”

  “True.” She put some bananas in her cart.

  “And I have the spryness of a twenty-nine year old.”

  Charlotte rolled her eyes again. Her mother’s constant need to be reassured since her father’s death wore on her. “Yes, you do. Listen, can I call you later? I have to get the shopping done and get home to help Sam with his homework.”

  There was a pause. “Fine, since you’re already tired of me, I’ll get straight to my points.”

  Plural. Fabulous. She grabbed a head of lettuce and went for a bag of cucumbers and prepared herself to endure the conversation. Her mother’s problems always felt very superficial, especially compared to her own survival problems.

  “You’re planning on coming for Halloween?”

  “Of course.”

  “Star and Angela are coming, too?”

  “They can’t. Star has a double date in Pineville and Angela’s getting stuck in the crossfire.”

  “That’s fine. Tell them they’ll miss the party of the year, but that’s fine.”

  Charlotte rounded the corner to the cash register. She spotted Mr. Harris, bless his soul, handing a smiling Sam a ten-dollar bill. “What else, Mom?”

  Her mother cleared her throat. “You’re being rude.”

  Charlotte pulled her attention back to the phone and began unloading the groceries. “Look, I’m sorry, I’m just in the middle of some stuff. Sam and I’ll be at the Halloween party, I promise.” She knew she sounded like she was placating her because, well, she was.

  Another pause. “One last thing.”

  Charlotte tucked the phone beneath her shoulder and quickly pulled the groceries out of the cart and put them on the counter.

  Mr. Harris winked at her and began to scan them.

  “Okay,” Charlotte said, conceding to listening.

  “Do you believe in fate?”

  “What?” She dropped a can of peaches.

  “Well, I always believed that God has a plan for our lives. You know, your dad and I came together under very unusual circumstances—”

  Charlotte held the can in the air. “Did you talk to Angela?”

  “Wh-what?” Her mother had that flabbergasted edge to her voice that said, “don’t interrupt me.” “What are you talking about?”

  Charlotte put the can down. Weird. “Nothing.”

  “Are you okay, Charlotte?”

  “Mom, I’m fine.” She hated it when her mom asked if she was okay. She’d been doing it a lot since the divorce. Even though Charlotte understood it was just concern, a lot of times it sounded like criticism. It was like she was on the verge of being thrown in the Looney bin or something.

  Her mother continued, “You know your dad and I met—”

  “I know how you and dad met, Mom.” Yes, she was cutting her off. Maybe she was being rude, but she was in the middle of groceries and her mother was slipping into her lecture mode, not to mention talking about fate and love.

  Her mother paused. “I can clearly see you can’t talk at the moment. If you would, call when you have sufficient time for your bothersome mother.”

  Charlotte pulled the cart ahead of her and stood in front of the cash register. She felt relieved and guilty at the same time. “Mom, I’m sorry.”

  Another pause. “Well, I’ll just tell you, I’ve been asked to sell pies at the school festival tomorrow.”

  “Okay.” She thought her mother was hanging up.

  “And I’ve been thinking this could be destiny. You know how famous my pies are in this town. This could be my future. Maybe I could go into business with you and bake pies and sell them at your shop.”

  Charlotte almost dropped the phone. “No.” She didn’t mean to be abrupt, but she had to be clear and firm about this. “No, Mom, that won’t work. Plus, what about the ranch?”

  Mr. Harris finished and Charlotte gave him her card to run.

  “What about the ranch?” Her mom answered quickly. “What have you heard?”

  “Nothing, why?” Weird. The day had gone from psychic weird to even more weird.

  “Honey, you know the ranch means everything to me. It meant everything to your father. It was the whole reason we moved here after he retired from the military.”

  Yes, Charlotte remembered. It had been their “pot of gold at the end of the rainbow” speech. She’d only been eleven.

  “Charlotte?”

  Charlotte pushed her cart toward the door and mouthed “thank you” to Mr. Harris.

  Sam had scampered ahead of her. She saw his jacket as he held the door for her.

  “Charlotte, don’t you believe in fate?”

  Charlotte stopped. “Why are you talking about fate?”

  “Well, don’t you believe in something that contro
ls our lives more than we do?”

  Charlotte didn’t know why the theme of today seemed to be fate or destiny, but she was tired of it. “No, Mom. I don’t. I don’t believe in fate. I believe that whatever I make of my life I’ve made through my own efforts, and I can pick my future at any minute.” She didn’t know why she was so upset. It wasn’t like her mother even had any idea about the chord her discussion would strike or about the fact that Charlotte only knew one thing since the divorce. She had to make a new life for her and her son, and nothing would stop her. Not even an ex husband who wanted her completely and utterly miserable. She didn’t need a man. She wouldn’t need a man ever again.

  “Charlotte, just listen . . .”

  But there was no time to listen.

  Later, Charlotte would recognize the moment that fate and destiny decided to play a game all their own.

  Chapter 5

  Ryan Hardman.

  His jet black hair was no longer combed nicely to the side like he'd kept it in high school. It was gelled up in that “I don't care” kind of model way. There were no traces of the cowboy he'd been in high school either. She used to love the way his wranglers fit him just so, but they were gone now. Instead, he wore a dark suit with a royal blue button-up shirt. Honestly, if she hadn't landed smack in front of him, she wouldn't have recognized him. At all. The black shoes, instead of the cowboy boots he’d always worn, was another sign he was not the Ryan from before. He held out a twenty-dollar bill to her son.

  Ryan Hardman.

  Her mouth went dry. All thoughts went mushy and slow. He was here. He was right here after seven years. And he was buying raffle tickets from her son. “I have to go, Mom.” She clicked off her phone.

  Sam took the wad of raffle tickets and plunked them down into Ryan’s hand. “Thanks a lot, sir.”

  She cleared her throat. Charlotte didn’t remember the last time she’d felt completely tongue-tied. The last time she’d felt the heat rise to her face like she was still an awkward fifteen-year-old. The last time she’d cared about the fact she didn’t have makeup on and her hair was wild and tangled and held back with some wide headband that Angela had convinced her was the hip thing.

  Ryan turned and his blue eyes widened. The same blue eyes she remembered. The ones that looked like shattered glass when they were angry. But they weren't angry at the moment, they were soft and guarded.

  “H-hi.” Her voice came out rough and cracked.

  He took a long breath, nodded, and turned to Sam. “Watch out, son. Let the mayor’s wife through.”

  The instant frown that appeared on Sam's face told how he felt about the divorce. "She’s not the mayor’s wife anymore,” he said in a matter of fact tone. “She’s my mom, so I know.”

  Ryan blinked and his gaze fixed back to hers.

  She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t move. She could barely breathe. The last time she’d seen him he’d worn his military garb, and he’d kissed her. It had been a slow, lingering kiss that a first love gives to the girl he’s leaving.

  Sam beamed up at Charlotte and held out the tickets, his discontent forgotten. “Look, Mom, he bought twenty tickets. I might win the telescope!”

  Charlotte stretched her lips to smile at Sam.

  Sam kept talking. “I know the telescope is a long shot, but you always say I should keep trying, right Mom?"

  Charlotte’s voice unstuck. She looked at the money. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know why she wanted to flee like she’d just come upon some horrible crime. “That’s great, Sam.”

  “Charlotte.” Ryan’s tone was quiet, steady, demanding.

  Charlotte cleared her throat. “Ryan.”

  Sam laughed. It was a carefree, childlike laugh. “You look weird, Mom.”

  The side of Ryan’s lip went up. Charlotte remembered that look. The look that said he was amused. Very amused. “Your mom and I used to know each other, son.”

  Sam let out another laugh and stared at his money. “That’s strange, I thought I knew more people than my mom, but she knew you first?”

  Charlotte shuffled forward, putting out a hand to get Sam moving. “Come on, we have to get home.”

  Sam turned back to Ryan. “Did you know that my mom has a used bookstore? You could buy some books. It’s called The Do Over.”

  Charlotte didn’t need this right now—the perpetual seven year old advertiser. That’s what her son was. She kept him moving forward and didn’t look back at Ryan.

  “I do need some books."

  Charlotte dug for her car keys in her pocket.

  "Wait a sec." Ryan was beside her.

  Charlotte pulled the cart back and faced him. She didn't want to face him. Everything she remembered about who she had been when she'd known Ryan seemed like it was reaching out and slapping her in the face. “We have to go.”

  Ryan pulled another twenty out of his wallet. He held it out for Sam and narrowed his eyes at Charlotte. “Give me another twenty tickets, I always bet on the long shot."

  After helping Sam with his homework, breaking down all the inventory boxes, and putting Sam and her shop to bed, she finally got to do what she’d been waiting to do since she saw Ryan Hardman in the grocery store parking lot.

  Think about him.

  Remember him.

  She sank deep into the bathtub and let the warm bubbles pop around her. She closed her eyes.

  She had to admit that she’d loved him since the first day he’d come over to help her father on the ranch. He’d been twelve, and she’d been eleven. Even at that age, he’d been slightly broody and a definite know-it-all. He’d treated her like a little sister. She’d lapped it up and followed him around the ranch like a puppy. He’d taught her how to get on a horse and ride, and she’d decided that she would marry him. One day she would marry him, and they could ride together around the ranch every day.

  Of course she didn’t tell him that. It took another six years for him to really notice her. It had taken her going to the fall formal with Nathan. Ryan had been there by himself for student council. Lucky for her, Nathan had gotten violently sick. It was the kind of throw up sick that left him completely out of sorts. Ryan had taken him home and then came back to the dance. They’d spent the rest of the dance together, and that had been it for her. For them.

  Then the accident happened.

  The accident had changed everything, everyone, the whole course of destiny itself.

  She dunked her head completely under the warm water and then pulled up fast. She kept her eyes closed. Ryan still had the same heartbreaking eyes. Dang. She really hated the fact Star and Angela would think this meant something.

  It didn’t.

  She didn’t know why Ryan Hardman was back in town, and she didn’t care. As far as she was concerned, he could go right back to where he’d come from.

  She’d messed up too many things in her son's life, and she wouldn’t let Ryan Hardman’s jaunt back to Hidden Falls affect her in any way whatsoever.

  Chapter 6

  Ryan quietly padded down the stairs of the inn and moved for the back door. It was late and he didn't want to wake Star, but he had to go for a run. He didn't have a choice. If he stayed in that room—that horrible honeymoon suite that Candy had booked for him, he would go completely insane. His body needed to move.

  "Where are we off to?"

  Ryan slung back into a triple threat position. Because of instinct. Because of experience. Because he couldn't stop himself from being extra jumpy in this town.

  Star laughed and sank deeper into the pink lounge chair tucked into the room next to the kitchen. It was a small room and only had a lounge chair, a small table, and a small flat screen on the wall. She had a cup of tea perched in her hand. Star sipped it like she was being featured in an article of Good Housekeeping. Precise. Comfortable. “Look who’s jumpy.”

  Ryan took in a cleansing breath and smiled. "I have to get in a run."

  Star glanced out the window. "A run sounds cold
."

  Ryan didn't wear a jacket or hat or gloves or anything to protect him. Honestly, it never occurred to him anymore. When he ran, he just ran. He didn't pay attention to pain or cold or heat. It had always been this way with him. The military had only refined that part of him. "It's fine."

  Star put her legs down. "Can I get you some tea? We could chat?"

  Ryan shook his head. "No thanks."

  The way she stood and then took a step toward him and lightly put her hand on his shoulder stilled him. "You don't have to be nervous."

  “Three tours will do that to a man.”

  Star paused. “I didn’t realize you served that many.”

  He nodded. “Been back three years and started this company with . . . one of my good friends.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “And you couldn’t make it home?”

  He wouldn’t answer her silent questions, so he opted to take ownership of his actions. “Nope.”

  Leaning back into the chair, she cleared her throat. “You're running at ten-thirty at night and you're telling me you're not nervous."

  Ryan backed toward the door. "I run twice a day, Star." He held up two fingers. "Just because."

  She looked unimpressed. "What are you running from, Ry?"

  He sized her up. She'd always been perceptive and now she looked more certain of herself.

  "Why are you back, Ryan?"

  "It's not for her." It came out before he could take it back.

  A slow smile donned her face. "I can see she's not on your mind at all."

  Ryan felt the rush of embarrassment and the regret of the past lick up the sides of his neck. He was blushing. He never blushed. "What does it matter?"

  "Everything matters."

  "The past is the past."

  "The past doesn't have to be the future," she countered.

  He snorted. "Yeah."

  "She's divorced."

  Ryan didn't want to do this. He didn't want to talk about her. About that. About the fact that Charlotte looked good. "I saw her at Mr. Harris’s place."