Chapter 2 #2
“Is that right?” He was driving with one hand, looking like he could navigate these roads blindfolded. Traffic certainly wasn’t an issue.
“It’s been a very long time since I’ve ridden.
” I didn’t want to make myself sound like some kind of expert.
“As a preteen girl, I was obsessed with horses. Quite a cliche, I guess. I read all the horse books in my school library and watched Black Beauty about ten times , and then I begged my parents for riding lessons. They let me do it for a couple of years until it got too expensive.” The riding lessons had to stop when my father was laid off from his job, but Mr. Hart didn’t need to hear that aspect of the story.
“My daughter is obsessed with horses too,” he said. “We’ll get you back in the saddle again. There are beautiful trails at the ranch. You’ll love it.”
Back in the saddle again. I needed that in more ways than one.
I separated from Freddy three years earlier, but we hadn’t been intimate in much longer than that.
Honestly, I hadn’t even had a strong desire to be with a man, and I started to think my peri-menopausal body was closed for business.
It was my gynecologist who convinced me to take measures to keep everything healthy and in working order down there by using the proper medications and supplements.
“You never know,” she’d said. “At some point, you might want to become sexually active again. You’re still a young woman, and you want to have all your options, just in case.”
Her words had made me laugh inwardly at the time because I definitely didn’t feel like a young woman, and my options were, due to my own choices, quite limited.
You can’t publicly date when you’re in a sham marriage, not unless you’re Freddy cavorting freely around small European beach towns.
Even if I were single, finding someone appropriate to love after fifty wasn’t a simple task, which was why so many older people hired matchmakers in the first place.
Now here I was, driving through rural Wyoming with a handsome stranger and thinking about my vaginal health.
I guess celibacy wasn’t feeling as appealing anymore.
Not that I was going to do anything about it on this trip, but experiencing sexual attraction to a man was a good start.
I peeked at Matthew, and a powerful urge to put my hand on his muscular thigh seized me. Where the heck did that come from?
I clenched my hands together on my lap just in case they got any funny ideas.
Obviously, I would never fondle the leg of a man I’d just met, but the fact that I’d even thought about it was scary and exhilarating.
As we rolled along a stretch of lonesome highway, I became intoxicated by the Suburban’s manly smell of sweat and leather.
We were sitting together on a bench style front seat.
Did Matthew’s lady sit in the middle, her leg pressed up against his, the two of them all cozy and snuggled up?
Could people have sex right here in the?—
“You doing okay?”
His words broke me from my reverie. If I was lucky, he wouldn’t notice the flush on my throat and cheeks.
“A little warm. Is it okay if I crack the window for a minute?” I asked.
“Sure.”
Clearly, I needed to make conversation to keep my mind from wandering. “How long have you owned Silver Sage?”
“My parents bought it in the eighties,” he said, “and almost two years ago I took over as manager. My sister and brothers followed other paths in life, but I wanted to keep the ranch in the family.”
I took a swig from my water bottle. Maybe all of my fantasizing resulted from dehydration. “Do they live in Wyoming?”
“Only Sam, my youngest brother, still lives out here. He’s our local veterinarian. Faith, my sister, lives in Texas, and my brother Bowie lives in Alaska.” He turned the truck onto another long stretch of road that looked exactly like the one we’d been on.
I couldn’t imagine living far away from my siblings.
Tori was my other half and business partner, and Rocco was a best friend and confidante.
Success and fame made it harder to trust people because you never really knew what they wanted from you, but with my siblings, I never had to question their loyalty.
“And are your parents still at the ranch?” I asked.
“They died in a car accident a while back. That’s why I’m running it now.”
I sat with the feeling of that loss, giving it the moment of silent reflection it deserved. “I’m so sorry. I lost my dad quite suddenly, and it was a shock, but losing both of your parents at once must have been a nightmare.”
“It was hard,” he said, “but being at the ranch makes me feel closer to them. I’m continuing their legacy, which is very important to me.”
“I’m amazed you took over the family business by yourself. My sister and I own a company together, and I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
He glanced over at me. “Is that right? What kind of business are you in?”
I considered lying, but wasn’t quick enough on my feet to think of anything other than the truth. “We own a matchmaking service.”
“Really?” He appraised me with fresh eyes, as if I’d surprised him. “I didn’t even know those existed anymore, what with online dating.”
I wasn’t offended. What would a guy from rural Wyoming know about elite Manhattan matchmakers? It was probably as foreign to him as something like rodeos were to me.
“Being on the dating apps is hard, and Stanley Cup winners and airline CEOs don’t necessarily want to post their photos for all to see.
Many high profile people prefer being set up by professionals.
We background check every client to weed out the creeps and the scammers, and we do in-depth interviews and even conduct mock dates to give them tips.
It’s a process.” An expensive process that most people couldn’t afford.
“My sister is actually the matchmaker. I’m the CFO, the numbers brain. ”
“Oh, so this is matchmaking for millionaires.”
“And billionaires.” I wasn’t bragging, only stating facts, but I could see the slight shift in his expression. “Since it’s our company, we can choose who we work with. If our clients don’t treat other people with dignity and respect, we part ways with them.”
The last thing I wanted to do was get into a big discussion about work, but when people found out I co-owned a matchmaking company, there were always questions.
I could never get away from my job and, in some ways, that was my own fault.
I had cultivated little in my life besides my career and my role as a mother.
Who I was beyond those two things was becoming a question I wanted to answer.
“Sounds like you offer an important service, then.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Online dating doesn’t really work so well in small towns. You’d probably just end up on a date with your neighbor or cousin. People tend to meet the old-fashioned way here.”
“At the bar?”
He chuckled. “At the bar, definitely. Or church. My sister met her husband at college. A lot of folks marry their high school sweethearts.”
“I think those are ideal ways to meet someone, if you can. In a big city, it can be hard to connect with other single people, although it seems like it should be the opposite when there are so many options.”
“Women have a saying about meeting a man out here.”
“Tell me.”
He tilted his head. “The odds are good, but the goods are odd.”
I smiled as I processed his meaning. “Is that so?”
“I can only speak for myself, but I don’t think I’m that odd. Now my brothers are another story.”
I laughed again, then waited anxiously for him to ask how I met my husband.
Yes, I was alone on this trip, but I was wearing a diamond engagement ring and a wedding band on my left hand, and there was nothing I wanted to talk about less than how I met Freddy.
Shifting in my seat, I slid my hand under my leg to hide the ring and hopefully ward off any questions.
Fortunately, Matthew Hart and I were both comfortable riding in silence, and that’s exactly what we did for a good twenty minutes.
Occasionally, I’d sneak looks over at him, enjoying his handsome profile and wishing I could do more than daydream about a vacation fling, but now wasn’t the time to risk another scandal.
He didn’t seem like the type to sell a story to a tabloid, but did anyone ever appear on the surface to be a heartless sellout?
About forty-five minutes into the trip, I was impatient to arrive at the ranch. “Are we close yet?”
“About halfway.”
“Halfway?” Surprise made my voice higher and shriller than I’d intended. “Really?”
“We’re cutting through the Medicine Bow National Forest right now. It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?”
“Absolutely. I just didn’t realize…” I could have sworn Tori told me the ranch was a half hour from the airport.
I wanted to have a look at a map on my phone, but there was no cell reception.
Zero bars. Hopefully, the ranch had reliable WiFi, so I could do a few online meetings later in the week.
I felt twitchy when I thought about being away from work for too long.
“What do you do if you run out of gas out here?” I asked. “I haven’t seen any service stations.”
He scratched his chin. “Yeah, that’s why we make sure we have a full tank when we leave home.
You’d have to walk a long way to find a gas station.
Or hope someone comes along and gives you a ride.
” He looked over at me and saw where my mind was going.
“Don’t worry. I have flares, blankets, and other supplies in case of car trouble.
When you live out here, you come prepared or suffer the consequences. ”
There was something incredibly sexy about a man with survival skills who could take care of a flat tire or keep me warm in a snowstorm.
Maybe that appeal dated back to our prehistoric ancestors, embedded somewhere in our genetic code?
It reminded me of Paul, my college boyfriend, during my years at Middlebury College in Vermont.
He introduced me to hiking and cross-country skiing, and he never went anywhere without his trusty Swiss army knife.
I still thought about Paul sometimes and wondered how different my life would have been if we’d stayed together.
Then again, if I hadn’t married Freddy, I wouldn’t have had Julien and Serge, my sweet boys, and I might not have built Ms. Match with Tori.
According to his social media, Paul was happily married with two kids up in Vermont.
Things turned out the way they were supposed to, but sometimes I still couldn’t help but wonder… what if?
An hour and a half after leaving the airport, we finally arrived at the gate for Silver Sage Ranch.
After being on a plane for so long, my body was looking forward to a long bath, a hot meal, and maybe a walk around the property.
I’d expected a fancy entrance, something like stone pillars or a fountain surrounded by a professionally manicured flower bed; instead, we drove up to a red gate, slightly rusted, with a humble sign hanging over it, the name of the ranch burned into the wood.
That was a surprise. Maybe the resort was going for the earthy, minimalist vibe?
Matthew hopped out of the truck and swung open the gate like someone who had done it a million times. Then he climbed back inside the SUV.
“Welcome to Silver Sage Ranch, Mrs. Wagonblast. I sure hope you enjoy your time here.”