Chapter 16
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Cassidy did not once mention my breakdown after arranging things with this “Doc” fellow. We were now waiting for his call that he was ready, then we would head to the local butcher shop—the only place with a large enough refrigerator for a dozen dead cattle carcasses. And all this “Doc” and butcher wanted as payment was free beef.
Small towns were so fascinating to me. Neither man had asked Cassidy too many questions; he’d merely needed a favor and offered some free meat, and they’d jumped at it without hesitation.
The cowboy was back in that round pen, this time working a lead rope gently around the stallion. It was mesmerizing to watch, even more so now than when we’d first met. Part of me was only a little bothered that I sought comfort in that man, even though I’d definitely been avoiding him since we returned to the ranch.
Especially in the mornings when I could hear him trying his best, but epically failing, at sneaking around his house. He’d asked for those thirty minutes, however unkindly, but I’d still given them to him—maybe more so for my own selfish reasons, but all the same. Eventually, I was pulled into chores by a rather grumpy Weston when I did make my appearance, only increasing Cassidy and my time apart and my time to think. No one mentioned the lack of Cassidy’s presence, but there was a time or two when I caught Weston watching Cassidy work that horse. Meaning Weston totally knew what Cassidy was doing instead of being foreman but said nothing.
I wondered what it was that kept Cassidy plunking along day after day, working for his brother instead of doing something he so clearly loved. Even more so, why did Weston not seem to encourage Cassidy to go after what was completely his element? Despite Weston’s earlier comment about wishing his little brother worked horses more, it seemed almost like a novelty to him seeing Cassidy in action.
They’d grown up with horses, definitely ridden them their whole lives, but Weston’s reactions had me wondering if starting horses and actually training them from the ground up was not something they routinely did. Further solidifying my suspicions was the lack of pregnant mares or foals on the ranch. There were plenty of horses, but all of them were at least rideable; so, was this as captivating for Weston as it was for me? Which was saying something since I’d started a horse or two in my life.
There was clearly a dynamic going on here between brothers that I had no idea about.
“You should name him,” I called out as the rope whacked against the side of Cassidy’s leg again. The stallion huffed, but this time he didn’t flinch like he had been—improvement from the first time when he’d almost dragged Cassidy across the round pen.
“What?” Cassidy’s husky voice casually replied.
“Give him a name.”
“Nah, Goldie. He’s your horse, that’s your privilege.” He didn’t look at me, his tawny eyes trained on the horse that finally chewed and then licked his lips.
Resting my chin against my arms, I watched as he gently scratched the horse’s neck and then swung the rope with his opposite hand, laying it in the dirt with a plunk beside the stallion. The horse’s feet pranced in the sand for a moment, but he looked more curious and unusually playful than scared. Like a giant kid who was learning things weren’t as terrifying as they’d been made out to be at first.
“How ’bout Sundance?” I offered, and this drew a rather curious look on Cassidy’s face as he twirled the end of the rope against the ground. Dust plumed around the rope, and the stallion leaned his head down, inhaling a nose full of dirt.
“Like the bank robber Sundance Kid?” he asked as the horse sneezed. Several times. A grin spread on Cassidy’s lips.
“Exactly. It goes with your name, and I think this horse deserves to have a complete restart to things. Nothing that reminds him of what he came from, just the riches that await. And he’s acting kinda like a kid right now.” I tugged my hat a little lower over my eyes, shielding my face from the sun as Cassidy slowly nodded.
“I like it. Sundance it is.” His cheery voice was cut short by a shrill ringing of a phone.
Sundance suddenly threw back his head, jerked the lead rope out of Cassidy’s fingers, and darted back toward the railing of the round pen.
A scowl pulled Cassidy’s lips tight as he dug his hands into his pockets. “That one’s on me,” he grumbled and glanced at the screen on his cell. “It’s Doc,” he added before answering the call.
My stomach plummeted to the ground as it hit me. Things were officially happening. That singular phone call was setting the plans into motion. Doc would meet us at the butcher shop where he was planning on starting two necropsies—the longest dead and the most recent. Why it only hit me now that things were really moving forward, I had no idea, because it wasn’t like I was not involved in the discussion that set up this plan.
I couldn’t move, breathlessly watching Cassidy mutter a few last things into the receiver as he quietly walked over to the stallion. The horse watched him with wary eyes, slinking against the fencing as tightly as possible, but that was it. Slowly, Cassidy slipped the halter over Sundance’s ears and then gathered up the dirty lead rope.
Then he took a step in my direction.
And another one.
He sauntered toward me, solidifying that we were on our way to answers.
Answers that I might not like, and nausea curdled in me as I gasped for air. After all this time, after all hope had fled, coming here like Rooney had suggested had ignited that dwindling ember in me. This idea that I might not have completely failed, that someone else’s hand might have influenced the events of these past six months had finally become an option.
But what if…?
“Goldie?” Cassidy’s gruff voice seemed quieter, more complex, holding a deeper meaning than the simple word he said.
I blinked and attempted to peel my eyes up from my boots. Like Velcro, they did not want to leave the reassuring sight of worn leather, in fear for what Cassidy’s gaze might hold. But it was the thought of his hazel eyes waiting for me that eventually gave me the strength to finally meet his tender stare.
“Hey there,” he whispered, his brows knitting together.
His chiseled face blurred as tears welled up in my eyes. I shouldn’t be crying, but everything was so overwhelming, an emotion that I wasn’t used to feeling, but I think it had been flooding my senses on overdrive these past few months. This single emotion had pushed me to avoid Cassidy for five days and he didn’t seem to hold a grudge against me for any of my confusing reactions to him.
“Cassidy,” I hesitantly began, my voice trembling.
“I’ve got you, okay?” He reached forward and brushed some dust from my cheek. That simple touch pulsed a singular wave of reassurance through me like the ocean crashing against a rocky shore.
And I mindlessly leaned against his calloused palm, silently asking him to leave it there. His eyes briefly widened, evidence of some surprise, and I couldn’t blame him. After my bewildering reaction to him kissing me on the drive, then avoiding him once we returned, this was the second time in the span of a couple of hours that I voluntarily sought out his touch.
“I need a distraction because if this doesn’t result in answers that will help…” That was all I managed to say, unable to speak out loud the fear that swirled like a raging storm within my mind.
He nodded once, a deep breath filling his chest, and then he spoke, “You know, it is Friday night. There’s a rodeo happening in the town over.”
I studied him, caught up in the orange light of a nearing sunset dancing off his tanned skin, swirling deepened shadows along his jawline. “I do like rodeos,” I quietly muttered.
His gentle smile widened. “Let’s go get cleaned up. I’ll drive the eighteen-wheeler if you wouldn’t mind following in my truck. Doc says Shawn is good if we leave the semi at his butcher shop.” Cassidy’s fingers slowly slid away from my skin, taking the warmth with him.
“Not bringing a big rig to a rodeo would definitely be smart in keeping a low profile on this,” I answered.
He nodded, tugging his hat lower on his head.
“Wait, you can drive an eighteen-wheeler?” I asked, suddenly realizing what he had just insinuated.
“Goldie, I can drive anything on wheels. If I don’t have to walk somewhere, you best believe I’m not.” He winked, a single dimple appearing on his cheek.
“I’m meaning you’re licensed to do so.” I shoved my hands on my hips. This entire time, I’d thought Rooney was going to be tagging along.
“I’ve had my CDL since I turned eighteen,” he snarkily replied.
“Fine, fine. Give me the keys to your truck.” I pursed my lips and stretched out my hand.
He raised a brow and tipped his head. “Who says you get it anymore after that attitude?” he growled. A low rumble danced in my core as he took a step closer, leaving a mere inch between us. Heat swamped me, his shadow laying over my entire figure. A stiff swallow slid down my throat as my eyes flickered to his lips.
It wasn’t a conscious choice, but I made no effort to peel my gaze away from the satin kiss so close to my own mouth.
Something cold and hard brushed against my palm.
Snapping me away from the very brief trance, Cassidy released a set of keys into my hand. “Don’t you dare get a scratch on it. The paint job is relatively new,” he cooly cautioned, then sauntered past me, purposefully brushing against my side as he did so.
Turning on my heel, I paused and watched him walk away. With each powerful step he took, his jeans bunched just right, just enough to highlight the muscling that I shouldn’t have known was there but did. My mind drifted back to his thighs wrapped around his horse, his hips moving as if he was part of the saddle itself, and a long, unintentional, audible sigh left my lips.
Cassidy immediately stumbled, nearly tripping over nothing, and my eyes widened.
He’d heard it. He knew I’d been staring; he had to have known, even if he hadn’t looked back at me. And I ripped my gaze away from his broad, powerful back. What is going on? Such obvious ogling was not like me. I needed to grit my teeth and go get ready for our date to the rodeo.
Wait, hold on. Was it a date? Had he just asked me on a date and I’d accepted?
No, I’d asked for a distraction and he’d provided. That was it. And I hated to admit that I was a little disappointed. Dragging my feet after Cassidy, I frowned. Though, it wouldn’t hurt to get a little done up even if it wasn’t a date. We were going somewhere in public, what would be the harm in maybe putting a bit of effort into looking nice? Especially since it was with Cassidy—even as a not-date date.