Chapter Eight
Cormac
Mrs. Keller leaned heavily on my arm. “Oh, darling, are you certain we can’t share a saddle?”
“I’m very certain. If I could bend the rules, I would,” I promised, not meaning it in the least. There was no universe in which I’d willingly share a saddle with this woman, but she didn’t need to know that.
She sighed, her long nails clutching my forearm as we strolled toward the barn. “Oh, Cormac, I know you would. You’re such a good boy.”
“I have every confidence in your ability to handle your horse. You know these trails like the back of your hand.”
After a decade of vacationing on the ranch, the Kellers had done every activity available.
Mrs. Keller was an accomplished rider, even if she pretended to be a feeble old woman.
If she expected anything more than my arm for support, I might’ve called her on it, but when it came down to it, there were worse fates than entertaining a spoiled guest.
“Well, of course I do.” She flicked her hand dismissively. “Riding with you would just be a lot more fun.”
“I’ll be close. Don’t worry.”
My eyes landed on Zara outside the barn, and I lost track of what she was saying.
Wearing boots, snug jeans, a T-shirt, and cowboy hat, she looked like she belonged right where she was: surrounded by horses and a couple ranch hands, kicking up dust as she checked saddles, the bright sun beating down on her shoulders.
Her skin was a deeper gold than it had been a few days ago, and the purple beneath her eyes had faded. Seemed the sunshine was doing her a world of good.
She lifted her head, turning in our direction, and her brow rose. Then she noticed the woman clinging to me, and the corner of her mouth hitched.
I shrugged, almost sheepish, heat crawling up my neck.
She turned away, but not fast enough for me to miss her laugh.
My gut rocked like a ship in a bottle. What was that?
It felt way too familiar. A tease of years gone by, when laughing at each other had been second nature. We weren’t there. I didn’t know if we ever would be. But damn, getting a glimpse of our past in the curve of her lips was nice.
“Is that your new guide?” Mrs. Keller asked.
“That’s Zara. She’s new, but she spent a lot of time on the ranch as a kid.”
She eyed me with interest. “Oh, that’s nice. Were you childhood sweethearts?”
I frowned at her. “What makes you think that?”
She rolled her eyes and patted my arm. “I might be old, but my vision’s perfect.”
“I’m sorry,” I swiped at my brow, “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Sure, darling.” She squeezed my hand then strode toward Zara with purpose, all her earlier wobbliness forgotten. “Hello! I’m here for the trail ride. Which of these beauties is mine?”
I stayed back, letting Zara handle Mrs. Keller. She wasn’t having any trouble with her either. Together, they decided which horse she would ride, and by the time she was mounted in her saddle, Mrs. Keller declared Zara would be a perfect match for her son.
Considering George was close to forty, twice divorced, and a raging misogynist, I didn’t agree. Turned out I didn’t have to worry either. Zara managed to shut it down without breaking a sweat.
Two other men joined our group. The first in jeans that were dark and stiff, like they’d never met dirt, and boots that were new and shiny clean.
The other wore a pressed button-down, the sleeves rolled exactly once, creases still sharp.
Some of our guests were true outdoorsmen.
Others were cosplaying. I suspected these guys were the latter.
Zara moved between the horses, tightening cinches, adjusting stirrups, murmuring low reassurances that had twitching ears and swishing tails settling under her hands.
“All right,” she stated, planting herself where everyone could see her. “Helmets are optional, common sense is not. Keep at least a horse length between you and the rider in front of you, and if you need something, let me know.”
“I’ve ridden before,” New Boots said, a little too quickly.
Zara smiled at him with patience. “That’s nice. This horse hasn’t carried you before.”
Mrs. Keller snorted.
Zara turned to the second man. “You’re on Ranger.”
He didn’t hide his nerves as well. “Is he well-behaved?”
Zara smoothed her hand up Ranger’s sleek, black neck. “He’s a great horse for beginners. You’ll do fine together.”
She stopped in front of me then, Dusty shifting impatiently at my side. Her gaze swept over me once, head to boots, assessing.
“You’re good, right?”
“I’m good.”
She tilted her head. “You’re sure? I’m available if you need help getting up.”
Mrs. Keller pressed a hand to her chest. “Oh, do let her help. I’d love to see that.”
My pride burned, hot and fierce. I might’ve worn suits most days and didn’t get out here as often as I would’ve liked, but that didn’t mean I’d forgotten how to ride.
“I’ve got it,” I said, swinging into the saddle.
I landed cleanly, and Dusty gave a satisfied huff.
Zara grinned up at me, and I was right back in that bottle, getting rocked something fierce. “I guess you do. What do you think about taking up the rear? I don’t want to worry about those guys getting lost.”
“I can do that.”
“Thanks, Maccie.” She brushed against my leg as she passed. Whether it was on purpose, I didn’t know, but I felt it all the way to my gut.
“Well…” Mrs. Keller said brightly, “you’d make a marvelous daughter-in-law. My son—”
“No thanks,” Zara breezed, still smiling.
Mrs. Keller laughed. “Straight to the point. I like that. Don’t worry—your message is received.”
With everyone settled, Zara stepped up to her own horse. She checked the cinch one last time, swung up smoothly, and settled into the saddle like it was an extension of her body.
“All right,” she said, reins loose, posture easy. “Let’s go before someone changes their mind.”
She nudged her horse forward, dust rising in the sunlight as the line followed.
The trail narrowed as we left the open stretch near the barn, sage and scrub brushing close enough to our boots, the scent rose warm and sharp in the sun. Zara set an easy pace, everyone falling into it.
Even New Boots, who’d started out too stiff in the saddle, relaxed inch by inch as she called back quiet instructions.
A reminder to loosen his grip. A suggestion to let his horse pick its way over the rocks instead of fighting it.
The other guy had been asking questions every five minutes, but began to peter out, settling into the rhythm of his horse.
Not noticing how natural and self-assured she was at this was impossible. Like she’d been back when we were friends. Before everything changed.
Mrs. Keller rode near the front, chatting away, and Zara handled her with the same ease she did the horses.
When Mrs. Keller worried aloud about a narrow pass, Zara talked her through it.
When she complained about the sun, Zara pointed out a bend where cottonwoods threw long shadows and promised we’d stop to rest there.
I stayed at the back like she’d asked, keeping an eye on the line, but my attention drifted forward more often than it should have.
It drifted to the loose set of her delicate shoulders and to the way she glanced back often enough to make sure everyone was still with her.
How she laughed when one of the guys made a dumb, self-deprecating joke.
I couldn’t picture her going back to an office after this. This was what she was meant to be doing. When she was a kid, her plans had always revolved around moving to Wyoming and riding horses all day.
And mine had revolved around her.
Somewhere along the ride, I realized my shoulders had dropped, the tight knot between them unraveling without me noticing, and my constant mental checklist went quiet. For once, there was nothing to manage. Nothing to anticipate.
I just rode.
Zara finally called a short break near a scenic overlook, and everyone stopped without complaint.
Mrs. Keller sighed contentedly. “I could do this all day.”
Zara smiled. “Careful. That’s how they get you.”
“You’re lucky to live here.”
“Oh, this is temporary.” Zara gave her horse a pat. “I have to go back to reality at the end of the summer.”
Mrs. Keller clucked her tongue. “If I were young and unencumbered, I’d make this my reality. Unfortunately, I was burdened by motherhood and marriage at a young age, limiting my choices. George is a lovely boy, but he’d never last a minute outside the city. You, dear, can do anything you want.”
“It’s not that easy,” Zara replied.
Mrs. Keller lifted her sunglasses, giving Zara a long look. “Isn’t it, though?”
After the ride, a staff member on a golf cart took the guests back to the resort while I stayed behind, intent on helping Zara with the horses.
If I was around her for more than a few fleeting minutes, I figured I could smooth out the feelings twisted up inside me.
She raised a brow, noticing me lingering. “I’m good here.”
“I know you are. Thought I’d lend a hand anyway.”
Turning from her horse, she faced me. “All right. I’m not going to fight you. You want to help me do my job, have at it.”
She handed me Dusty’s reins without ceremony, already turning back to loosen her own cinch.
“Can you walk her out first?” she asked over her shoulder. “She sweated more than usual.”
I did as told, leading Dusty in a slow circle through the packed dirt, the late afternoon sun warming my back.
When I brought Dusty back, Zara was brushing down her horse. She’d hung her hat on a hook, and beads of sweat dotted her creaseless forehead. Soft music played from a nearby speaker, and every once in a while, Zara’s lips moved with the lyrics.
I loosened Dusty’s girth and slid the saddle free, muscles remembering the weight. It felt good to be doing this work. Real in a way my days usually weren’t. The leather creaked. The air smelled like sweat and hay and sun.
When the silence stretched on and on and on, I decided it was up to me to break it. After all, I’d been the one to start it.
“You were good out there.”
She paused, brush hovering. “At the ride?”
“Leading,” I corrected. “Everyone listened to you. Even the nervous guy with a thousand questions.”
The corner of her mouth lifted. “He relaxed once he realized Ranger wasn’t plotting his demise.”
“I noticed.”
She set the brush down and leaned her forearms on the fence, watching one of the ranch hands lead a horse toward the wash station.
“How are you, Cormac?” she asked.
“I’m all right. It’s been a pretty good day.” I moved into her line of sight, hitching my hip on a low gate. Her gaze trailed over me, her brow furrowing. “How about you, Zara? How are you?”
Her chest rose and fell with a deep pull of breath. “It’s been a pretty good day for me too. All week has. I’m happy to be here.”
“Good. That’s good.” My pulse thudded in my throat. Why was I nervous? I didn’t get nervous. “So coming here was the right move then.”
“I think so.” Her eyes landed on me and stayed for a while before straying back to her horse. “I might be running away. I haven’t decided yet.”
“When will you know?”
“I’m not sure it matters. I’m here, so whether I’m running away or ‘resetting,’ as my dad says, the result’s the same, you know?” She paused, flicking her gaze at me. “Well…you probably don’t know. You’ve always been pretty sure of what you want.”
“That’s not true.” My fingers dug into my knees hard enough to bruise. “I’m still figuring a lot out.”
“Job-wise…”
“Yeah.” My chin lifted. “My job is the one sure thing.”
“You like it?”
“Most days.” I shot her a tight smile. “The Mrs. Kellers of the world keep it interesting.”
That earned a soft laugh. “She wasn’t as bad as you made her out to be.”
“You’re right. She’s not so bad. I mean, she has the ability to be a pain in the neck, but mostly means well.” I folded my arms across my chest. “Except for pushing her son George on you. I didn’t like that. If you ever see him, walk the other way.”
“Oh?” Her brows lifted. “Is he that terrible?”
“Worse.” I grimaced. “He’s like Randall on steroids.”
My reference to Jackson’s asshole brother brought her up short, the brush in her hand forgotten as she blinked rapidly at a spot over my shoulder.
I could’ve kicked myself. We’d been doing so well, dancing around everything that mattered.
The conversation was surface level, but at least we were talking.
And goddamn, I’d missed talking to this woman.
“That’s…” it was her turn to grimace, “pretty bad. Randall is the worst of them all. Do you know he started a rating system in his frat house?”
“A rating system?”
“Yeah. He made a fancy chart he’d pinned in their meeting room and had all the brothers rate their hookups based on their ‘talents’ and ‘level of attractiveness.’ I wasn’t supposed to see it.
When I did, I threatened Randall’s ability to father children if he didn’t take it down.
” Her mouth pinched in disgust. “In hindsight, I should have kicked him where it counted to save the world from his future offspring.”
I barked out a laugh. “Christ, yeah. I can’t imagine more Randalls running around out there.”
“And yet, you were friends with him.”
“I wasn’t.” I shook my head hard. “If anything, we were acquaintances. And only by circumstance.”
She waved that away. “It doesn’t matter.
I’m the one who married into the family, even after knowing the depths of his depravity.
Who am I to judge?” She tipped her head to the side.
“Actually, I doubt I’ll ever truly know how deep his depravity goes, and I’m fine with that. I’d like to forget them all.”
“Seems getting some distance this summer was the right move.”
I finally got her eyes again. Bottomless, black pools that had once been easy for me to read were now akin to trying to find my way at midnight: dangerous and mysterious, flying blind without a flashlight.
She released a little breath, giving me the barest hint of a smile. “I really hope so.”