Chapter 8
eight
. . .
Jameson
" I 'm going to check how this hat looks in the mirror." Rio pulls down the visor and throws off her seat belt once we're on the ranch.
"I told you to keep it buckled until we stop," I say. It's ironic considering I used to surf on the back of the truck while Zander whipped around the ranch, making sure to hit every dip and bump in an effort to throw me out of the bed. He considered it a bonus if I broke a bone at the end of the ride. But with my own kid—all I can think is I want to wrap her in giant balls of cotton and follow her everywhere she goes to make sure she doesn't get hurt and that no one says a mean word to her.
"You are such a worrywart. What can possibly happen—" Before she can finish, the front end dips into a rut. The straw cowboy hat bounces off, and Rio is tossed back hard onto the seat.
I glance over at her. She's pouting with embarrassment. I want to say "told you so" but decide to skip it.
It only takes her a second to recover. She reaches for the hat on the floor and pops it back on her head. "Now, when you take pictures of me on the horse?—"
"It's a pony," I say.
She looks over at me. She has her mother's complexion, but everything else about her is Wilde. "A pony is a horse, am I right? I mean, it's not a donkey or a zebra or a pelican."
I laugh. "That last one sort of went off topic, but I get your point." We roll past the main house. It's a massive two-story log cabin with a wraparound porch. Even though some of the shit that went on at the ranch wasn't exactly family-ish, the new cabin always felt like home. Dad built it when Zander and I were toddlers, and the twins were just born. Back then, we were all living in the old cabin. At that time, it was more of a shanty, but Zander and I didn't mind. We had the run of the place and the acres surrounding it. The old cabin was built by our grandfather, Lachlan Wilde. Lachlan managed to snag over two hundred acres for almost nothing back in the early 1900s. The land was mostly untouched when Dad inherited it. The stories around Lachlan's untimely death grew more sordid as we got older, but it seemed to involve stealing someone's wife, an angry husband and a shotgun. Just like the stories surrounding Lachlan's unexpected death, stories of how Dad got the money to build the new cabin and barn and everything else on the ranch were better left untold.
"So, when you're taking pictures of me on the horse, make sure to get my left side. I've got this annoying pink dot on my right cheek." She turns her head all the way around to show me the dot .
"Uh, tiger, I think they call that a zit."
"Shhh!" Rio says briskly. She leans over and presses her small finger against my mouth. "We don't use the Z word, all right. It's a pink dot. That way, I can brag on social media that I've never had a zit."
I laugh. "That's possibly the craziest and smartest thing I've ever heard. Won't people see that zit when you post the pictures?"
"That is why you must promise to only take pictures from the left," she says matter-of-factly. "By the way, you can use my alternative phrase method when discussing the B spot on the back of your head. Just call it a hair-free zone. Then you'll never have to cop to being bald."
"First of all—there is no bald spot."
"Sure, if you say so." She sits forward and presses her hands against the dash. "Look! Nate's here. I have to get some selfies with him. My friends get so jealous when they see I've been hanging out with Uncle Nate."
"That's right. I forgot about the Nate fan club." At twenty-seven, Nate is the baby of the family, and he's probably more on top of shit than the rest of us. Sometimes, Zander and I were more of a parent to him than Dad. Nate's mom, Stevie, stuck around longer than the rest of our mom's mostly because Dad was already slowing down from age and health issues. A bad heart and joint problems kept him from sleeping around with other women. Stevie was twenty years younger than Dad, and she was the closest thing to a real mom the rest of us had. But even she got sick of Dad and his household of out-of-control sons. Dad could be charming and funny, but he could also be a first-class asshole. He married four women, and each one loved him in their own way. They also learned how easy it was to hate him.
"The twins are back," Rio says excitedly. She's still clutching the dash and leaning forward to see. The brim of her cowboy hat taps the front windshield every time we hit a bump. Chunks of mud fly through the air as Ronan and Colin race around the arena on Cooper and Archer, two of Dad's quarter horses. Rio sits back with a satisfied sigh. "All my uncles are here. Yay! Andrea is going to be so jealous. She likes Ronan."
I pull the truck up next to Nate's motorcycle. "I thought she liked Nate," I say. I'm amazed at how easily I can get sucked into the gossip world of a twelve-year-old.
Rio shakes her head letting me know how pathetically bad I am at keeping up with all this. A loud huff follows. "Olivia and Bella like Nate. Andrea likes Ronan." She taps her chin. "Or is it Colin that she likes?"
"Aha," I say triumphantly. "So, it's not just me."
Rio rolls her eyes. "Give yourself a blue ribbon," she mutters before jumping out of the truck and racing for the barn.
Nate's sitting on the pipe rails of the arena watching them ride. His long hair drives Dad nuts, which is probably why he keeps it long, that and because he's the lead singer in a popular local band and his flock of groupies would probably light themselves on fire if he cut it. He waves at me, and I head across to the arena.
The morning fog has burned off, and a blue sky is trying its hardest to break through the mist. It seems the rain is behind us for a while. Thinking about rain reminds me of the night before when I opened the door, and Indiana fell into my arms, wet and exhausted. For a few hours last night, I had her to myself, and it was as if she never left. Everything about her was familiar, and I realized, as hard as I tried, I never got Indi Nash out of my soul.
She left the house angry, not unusual for Indi when it came to being around me. All morning, I kept telling myself that it was a good thing she's not staying long. Just haven't convinced myself that it's true yet. I can't believe how much of my life has been taken up thinking about one girl. Woman actually. Indi is hotter now, and I didn't think that was possible.
"Hey, Jameson," Nate says from his perch.
I lean against the railing and join him.
"You coming to the Gold Rush tonight?" Nate asks. "We're playing a few sets. Harry had a band cancel, and he was in a pinch, so I told him we'd do it."
"A night out sounds good, but not sure if I can make it."
We both watch Ronan and Colin chasing each other on horses, trying to knock each other's hats off. Ronan finally takes too big of a swipe and launches himself right out of the saddle. He hits the ground with a thud.
"Fuck," he grunts. Lucky for him, Cooper is an easy-going horse. The animal takes a few steps away from the fallen rider and drops his head to see if there's anything to munch in the arena. Colin is laughing his ass off by the time he swings Archer's head around. Nate hops off, walks to Ronan and offers his hand. Ronan is just getting the wind back into his lungs. He moans in pain as Nate pulls him to his feet.
Colin rides up to where I'm standing. "Please tell me you got that on camera."
I peer up at him. The sun is high enough now that I have to squint. "When was the last time you saw me taking a video?"
"That's right. I forgot you hate phones."
"Just hate having to answer them because it's hardly ever anyone I want to talk to. How was Ireland? How's your mom?"
"She's got some new guy. He drank both Ro and me under the fucking table. He's all right but kind of a clown. Mom seems happy." He looks past me. "Where's your mini-sidekick?"
I lean my head toward the barn. "I assume she's helping Zander saddle Irish for a riding lesson."
Colin takes off his sunglasses. His face is still shaded by the cowboy hat. "So, I hear a certain someone is back in town." Zander is the only person who really knows how I feel about Indi, but Zander also has a big mouth. Not that he's into gossip or any of that crap, but he has a big mouth regardless.
"How'd you find that out? Never mind, I forgot how fast news travels in this town. Yes, Indiana showed up in Rockhurst yesterday, and she'll probably be gone before any of you see her."
"Too bad. Is she still hot?"
I look up at him. "What do you think? I think I'll see what's taking them so long."
"Uh oh, I hit a sore spot," Colin calls to me as I walk away. I respond with my middle finger.
The barn aisle is cool compared to outside, and the earthy smell of hay and horses permeates the air. Irish snorts softly as I walk toward them. Zander is leaning against one of the stall doors with his arms crossed and an annoyed look on his face. I can see the top of Rio's head behind Irish's rear end.
Zander looks up. "She insists that Irish's tail be braided for the photo shoot."
"I'm sure Irish doesn't want pictures of her ratty tail floating around social media." Rio's little voice floats up over the pony.
"The last time you came for a lesson, you spent an hour braiding her mane and then you spent exactly ten minutes in the saddle before it was time to put Irish back in the barn for dinner. Maybe you'd rather just learn to be a horse stylist instead of a cowgirl."
Rio holds her hands out. "There, I'm done. Now was that so bad? And now Irish looks pretty for her pictures."
"Well, if I knew this was going to be a photo shoot, I'd have worn a better shirt," Zander says.
"Then it's lucky you're not going to be in the pictures," Rio says with a chin lift. She's got the Wilde biting retort thing down. I take no credit for it. She came preloaded. Must be in the genes.
"Are you ready to ride or what?" Zander has the thinnest patience in the world, and my kid has just punched through it.
"Yup, let's ride," she says with a cowboy drawl. Rio walks over to the hook on the wall and grabs her hat. "Oh wait, I've got to pee. Be right back." She scurries away holding her hat on her head.
Zander turns his annoyed scowl my direction.
I shrug. "You offered to give her lessons."
"Yeah," he says. He picks up the mucking rake to clean the piles of manure in the aisle. "I went into Nev's shop this morning to get a sandwich, and guess who I ran into?"
"Uh, let me guess. Indiana Nash."
Zander is grinning like an idiot. "And how are you feeling?"
"Well, at the moment, a little hot and hungry. I'm running on half a pancake and a cup of coffee."
Zander kicked some manure my direction. "You know that's not what I'm asking."
"I don't know what you want me to say. Indi came to the house thinking the Dixons still owned it. She was wet and hungry—and don't ask me why—because she didn't tell me the story. There were some bruised ribs to go along with the story, and I tried not lose my fucking mind over the fact that some guy pushed her. This morning things fell apart in the usual way, when it comes to me and Indi, then she walked out, and I'm sure that's the last time I'll see her."
Zander put down the mucking fork. "Why?"
"Why what? Why shovel shit? I imagine because it'll pile up to the ceiling if you don't."
"Fuck off. Never mind. You know I'm asking why it'll be the last time you see her."
"Because she said she won't be staying long, and get this, Zach is already making plans to hang out with her. And yes, I hear that jealous, whiny tone as I say it. Shit, Rio is really rubbing off on me. Thought I was supposed to be influencing her."
"Of course Zach is making the move. He lost her once. He probably figures it's time to restart the whole thing again— a Zach and Indi sequel. And in this version of the movie—the villain will still be played by none other than Jameson Wilde."
"Yeah, whatever." I walk over and pat Irish's neck. "You're not going to let go of the lead rope, are ya?"
"Thought I'd smack her once with the riding crop and send the pony and the kid off over the rear fence. Of course I'm going to lead her. Your kid is not exactly a natural in the saddle. She's more interested in how she looks up there than actually riding. And stop changing the subject."
"Not changing it. Just bored of talking about it. Indi and I are like two ships passing in the night. Two pirate ships with cannons blaring." I check the cinch on the small saddle to make sure it's secure. Irish tosses her head. She doesn't care for the belt tightening.
"C'mon, high school is way in the rearview mirror now, and that day … it's even farther in the rearview."
"I doubt Indi feels that way."
Zander unclips the crossties and leads Irish outside. I follow along next to the pony. Rio is taking forever. I figure Dad's stopped to talk to her and give her some pointers. He loves to be a know-it-all.
"What about you?" Zander asks. "You still haven't let go of the guilt. It was a shitty accident."
"It should have been me that day, not her dad. She'll never forgive me for being out on that rainy road. I'll always be the reason her dad is dead."
Rio came skipping across the yard, holding her oversized hat on her head and wearing a grin from ear to ear. Three years ago, I didn't know she existed, and now I can't imagine living without her.
"Talk to her," Zander says.
"So she likes to braid manes and tails," I say.
"Not Rio. I'm talking about Indi."
Rio reaches us right then. "Are you talking about Indi? I really like her. Uncle Zander, don't you think Mr. Lonely Hearts Club over here should ask her out? I think they'd be perfect together. She's so pretty too."
"Yeah, Mr. Lonely Hearts Club," Zander says. "Ask her out."
I'm shaking my head. It's his stupidest advice yet, and that's saying a lot considering at fifteen he talked me into jumping a dirt bike over a trailer filled with hay. I ended up with a broken collarbone and trashed dirt bike. Dad made me sit through dinner and breakfast the next day with the broken collarbone before he took me to urgent care. He said I deserved to suffer for being such an idiot.
"Fine, then let Zach move right in and you can watch from the sidelines again, and that anger can start brewing inside of ya and?—"
"And let's get that riding lesson going before Irish drops dead of boredom," I say briskly. The last thing I want is to discuss my pathetic pining for Indi Nash in front of Rio.
Zander picks up Rio and drops her onto the saddle. I adjust her stirrups. She's still fussing with her hat and hair. "Is that how people usually climb onto a horse?" Rio asks.
I raise a brow at Zander.
"No, I'm just saving time because last time I let you climb on from the mounting block you stopped to take selfies," Zander says. "Now, hold on there, cowgirl, this train is moving."