Chapter 25
Camila
Hess literally spent the day with my mom.
I cannot tell you how anxious that made me.
When it comes to Hess, I’ve been a very private person, and now he’s spent hours with my mom, the one woman who’s like a portal to all my embarrassing stories.
I called her the moment he got home so I could hear all the details about how the day went. Of course she told him about my cowboy obsession and how I used to go on and on as a teenager about how I’d marry a cowboy someday—before I stopped believing in marriage.
I’m not going to hear the end of it from Hess about that one.
But other than that, it sounded like they had a great time together. My mom loved him and even told me I better not screw things up. That if a man like Hess had ever come along when she was my age, everything would be different. And deep down, I think I know that’s true, but it’s scary to admit.
There’s a war going on inside my head. Alarms in each beat of my heart.
Everything is telling me this is a dangerous road I’m headed down.
But I’m like a toddler standing in front of a red, burning stove.
All I want to do is touch the glowing coils.
So, I push the hesitations and the divorce-attorney logic out of my mind and latch onto the advice from my friends, deciding to have some fun tonight. Not to overthink everything.
Standing in front of the mirror, I look at myself one last time.
When Hess was gone, I snuck into his room and stole one of his plaid cowboy-looking shirts.
I paired it with a white tank, high-waisted straight-leg jeans, and a pair of cowboy boots.
The outfit is probably country girl overkill, but hey, this might be my only chance to go on a date with a real cowboy, so I’m making the most of it.
The air outside smells like rain and dust, fresh in a way that’s so rare in our desert summers. The storm left everything cooled off, the heat finally bearable, and now the sky glows orange, streaked with pink and gold.
Hess is already by the corral, waiting, one hand resting casually on the reins of a chestnut mare. I’d hoped he’d wear his cowboy hat, and I’m happy to report he is. Everything else about him is classic, from his clean white t-shirt and jeans to the stubble across his face.
When he turns, his eyes sweep over me in a slow appraisal that makes my skin prickle. His gaze lingers, and he doesn’t even try to disguise it. Then, softly, like my beauty stuns him, “Wow,” drifts out of his mouth.
“You’re easy to please.”
“You’re wearing my shirt.” His gaze does a twice-over my body.
I pull on the hem. “This old thing?”
“It looks good on you.” His head shakes as he tsks. “You’re going to make it real hard to focus tonight.”
“I’m just trying to keep up with you.”
And honestly, that’s the truth. Hess is the poster child for every fantasy I’ve ever had. So long, Tim McGraw. There’s a new cowboy in town.
He pats the horse’s neck. “I should’ve warned Daisy Duke she’s got competition for my heart.”
“Well, tell Daisy Duke not to worry. I don’t normally do animals. This is a one-time exception.”
His grin is crooked, like he knows something I don’t.
“Daisy, this is my wife.” The slow, sultry way he says it has butterflies churning in my stomach. He leans down, murmuring into the mare’s ear just loud enough for me to hear. “She looks way too good tonight. I might be in trouble.”
I edge closer. “I heard that.”
“You were supposed to.” He smirks as he extends a hand out to me. “Get over here.”
Men, take note.
That kind of confidence is how to be effortlessly sexy.
I slip my fingers into his. His grip is steady and warm as he guides me to Daisy Duke’s side like I’m something special. When I glance up, his eyes are on me.
“Left foot here,” he says, tapping the stirrup.
His hand skims down my arm to my hip, steadying me, but instead, his touch does the opposite, throwing my heart off balance.
I set my foot, and his palm presses against the small of my back, firm, supportive, urging me upward.
Heat spreads where he touches me, even as I scramble awkwardly.
He catches me again, strong hands circling my waist, lifting me just enough to swing me into the saddle.
By the time I’m seated, my heart is racing.
I don’t know if it’s from the physical exertion or Hess’s touch.
I guess it doesn’t even matter at this point.
His hand lingers at my knee, grounding me. “Not so bad, right?”
“Easy for you to say.” I grip the reins tightly as the horse shifts beneath me. “I’m a little out of my comfort zone, and I think Daisy Duke knows it. She’s about to have her way with me.”
“There’s nothing to worry about. She’ll do all the work. All you have to do is hold the reins.”
I’ve never felt more co-dependent in my life. But if this marriage has taught me anything the last few months, it’s not to hate co-dependency so much.
Hess mounts his own horse with effortless manliness that should be studied, and together we start along the well-worn trail. The corral fades behind us, and the land opens wide, bathed in pre-sunset fire.
I should be watching the view, but I keep stealing glances at Hess—the way his shoulders move with the horse, the easy confidence in his posture. He looks like he belongs here. And for the first time, I wish I did too.
The horses fall into an easy rhythm, hooves thudding softly on the damp earth. Hess rides close enough that our knees or thighs brush now and then.
“I don’t know why Daisy Duke keeps riding so close to your horse,” I say when our thighs touch again. I glance down at the horse's legs. “Are they going to trip each other?”
“Nah, they’ll be fine.” But he steers Cactus Jack away from me, easing my nerves. “So, I liked your mom.”
“I bet. She’s exhausting, loud, and full of opinions I never asked for.”
“Sounds familiar already.” He grins, but it’s rounded out by playfulness. “At least the part about opinions nobody asks for.”
“I’m sure Selena would say that’s true.” I sniff out a laugh. “But my mom did the best she could raising us. And I was probably too critical.”
“What were you critical of?”
“Oh, geez,” I heave. “Where do I start?”
“How about with the men she married? How many were there?”
I rest my wrists on the horn thing on my saddle—I have no idea what it’s called—and loosen the reins, letting Daisy Duke lead me. “Actual marriages? Four. But none of them stayed around long enough to make a lasting impression on my life.”
“I think they stayed with you.”
My brows drop, questioning him.
“You don’t need Abby or anyone else to tell you that your aversion to marriage probably comes from your experience with your mom—and the men who let all three of you down.”
I don’t respond. I don’t need to.
“Is that why you specialize in divorce? Or did that happen by accident?”
Daisy steps on a boulder, and for a split second, I worry I’m doomed, but she easily recovers, like it’s typical horse stuff, so I focus on Hess’s question.
“At first, I wanted to be a lawyer to help women like my mom. She was young and naive when everything went down between her and Glen Lucas. There was no one in her corner, helping her make good child support decisions. So I wanted to be that for some other woman like my mom, but as I got going in this field, divorce was the perfect place for a person who didn’t believe in fairy tales.
The sadness and negativity didn’t affect me because I was already a little jaded. ”
“I think negativity always affects us, even if we convince ourselves it doesn’t. I’m sure it’s keeping you jaded more than you think.”
“True, but that’s easy for someone like you to say. Your parents have the fairy tale.”
“Yes and no. I saw a lot of fights growing up. They certainly weren’t perfect, but I also saw a lot that makes me think marriage and family is the most selfless thing a person could do with their life.”
“For those of us who didn’t have that, tell me what you saw. What’s so selfless about it?”
“Just little things. My mom got up early every morning to make my dad breakfast, not because she had to but because she knew he was working hard on the ranch, and she didn’t want him to have to stop and make something for himself.”
I scrunch my nose, unsure if I like that answer. It challenges all of my modern beliefs.
“There’s more.” Hess laughs, sensing my concerns.
“When I was a teenager, my mom was diagnosed with a chronic illness. She’s fine, but I’ve seen the way my dad takes special care of her when she has flare-ups.
He rubs her feet or her aching hands, pitches in with the cooking and cleaning so she can rest.”
“That’s nice,” I muse, already thinking about my own diabetes diagnosis and how incredible it would be to have someone I could depend on when things are hard with that.
I’ve been to every doctor's appointment alone, faced every new health challenge by myself…
until Hess swept in on the airplane and took care of me when I needed it most.
It’s hard for me to admit how nice it was to have someone’s hand to hold onto when I was scared.
“My parents’ marriage has always been an equal partnership, whether it comes to decisions on the ranch, raising the kids, or the household. They discuss everything together. That’s the kind of marriage I want. The kind of partnership that works together whenever life gets hard.”
For a stretch, it’s only the creak of leather and the snort of the horses as I think about Hess’s words. Maybe marriage isn’t what’s hard. Maybe life is hard, and navigating hard things with the wrong partner is what the real problem is.
“I know you say you love your job,” Hess says, breaking into my thoughts, “but if you could do anything else, be anything else, what would you do?”
“Okay, this is going to seem like it comes out of nowhere, but just stay with me for a second.”
“Alright.”
A dreamy smile drifts across my lips. “If I could be anything else, I’d be a florist.”