Chapter Twenty-Six
Marina
The late afternoon sun warms my shoulders as I sit on the porch with a glass of wine, watching Ryder and Ruby tear across the yard beneath the sprinkler.
They’re both soaked.
Ryder’s little jeans are plastered to his legs, his hair is clinging to his neck, and his giggles carry all the way up to the porch as he tries to outrun the oscillating spray.
Ruby is right behind him, shrieking with laughter.
Evelyn sits beside me, perfectly content to watch the chaos unfold with a glass of tea in one hand.
Charli and Shelby are sprawled in the other chairs, and Mom is seated with her legs tucked beneath her, glass of wine in hand, her bracelets jangling every time she takes a sip.
“So,” Mom says, lowering her voice, “who’s the man with the chest of steel who was practically undressing you with his eyes when we walked up?”
I should have known better than to think we’d make it through an entire glass of wine without discussing my love life.
I choke on my wine, and she starts pounding on my back.
“Geezus, Mom,” I wheeze.
Charli and Shelby grin at each other.
“Well, he was. And you were staring right back at him.”
“His name is Royce Trust. You met his younger brother, Cabe, at lunch. They’re Charli and Shelby’s cousins. And we know each other from the rodeo circuit. That’s all.”
She raises a brow. “The rodeo circuit?”
Charli nods. “He and his older brother, Axle, are professional bull riders. Ax just won the world championship last month, barely beating my husband.”
“Oh dear Lord,” Mom says, narrowing her eyes at me. “Of course the first man to pique your interest in years is another bull rider. You certainly do have a type, baby girl.”
“He’s nothing like Blaze,” I snap a little too quickly, and she notices. “Just because they have the same occupation doesn’t mean it’s fair to lump them in the same category.”
Her eyes go wide. “Damn, I was teasing, but you really do have a thing for him, don’t you?” Her eyes go back to the roof of the barn. “Not that I can blame you.”
I let out a frustrated huff and reach up to rub my temples. “You’re gonna give me a migraine, Mother. I don’t have a thing for him. We’re just friends. Kinda.”
“Whatever you say,” she mutters, picking up her glass and swirling the dark liquid. “But don’t you think it’s time you got yourself a man?”
“No. I don’t.”
“You’re young, beautiful, funny, and you’re raising a child.”
“Exactly. I have enough to worry about,” I say.
“That’s my point. Who’s taking care of you?” she asks.
“I have a job.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about, baby girl. A woman has other needs besides financial ones.”
Grandma Evelyn chuckles.
Mom takes a leisurely sip of her wine. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. All that ex of yours was good for was a good lay.”
I nearly choke. “Mom!”
She looks at me innocently. “What? It’s true, isn’t it? That’s why you let his sorry ass stay around for so long.”
“I never told you that.”
“You didn’t have to.” She waves her hand dismissively. “The boy had you in a choke hold for years. He had to be giving it to you good for you to hold on that long.”
Geezus.
“Besides, I saw him on a bull. I could tell.”
I stare at her, then look around in horror at the other women, who thankfully seem amused rather than offended.
Mom turns toward Charli. “I mean, you’re married to a bull rider. Am I wrong?”
Charli bites her lip. “No,” she says, fighting a smile. “You are not.”
Mom looks entirely pleased with herself.
“Well, that wasn’t my experience,” I say.
“It wasn’t?” She shakes her head. “That’s a damn shame. At least you would have been getting something out of him.”
“Maybe at first. But by the time he left … he was lazy and selfish.” I look toward my son.
He’s laughing so hard as he slips into the grass. Ruby is beside him in an instant, trying to pull him back onto his feet.
“He wasn’t interested anymore,” I say quietly, “after Ryder was born.”
Mom studies me for a moment. Then, because, apparently, we’re not done making this conversation as uncomfortable as humanly possible, she says, “Then you get back in the saddle because, trust me, there’s not another man on this planet who wouldn’t be interested.”
I snort. “That’s because you think all men are sluts.”
“They are. They either have a woman they are bedding regularly or they are regularly bedding lots of women.”
Charli lifts her glass across the table and clicks it against Mom’s. “Amen to that.”
“And there’s nothing wrong with a woman getting hers. Your dad and I still keep each other company from time to time.”
My head snaps around. “You’re joking.”
She blinks. “What?”
“He’s married!”
“So?” She takes another sip of wine. “Sometimes, you get an itch that needs to be scratched by an old flame.”
I stare at her.
“We were married for ten years. It doesn’t count.”
“Yes, it most certainly does count. You can’t go around sleeping with married men, Mother. Even Dad. That’s wrong, and it’s gross. Are you trying to traumatize me?”
Charli’s shoulders start shaking.
Shelby is openly laughing now.
Grandma Evelyn looks like she’s trying very hard not to laugh.
I point at my mother. “This feels like one of those do as I say, not as I do moments.”
Mom considers that. “Well”—she lifts her glass—“obviously. I wouldn’t want you falling back into Blaze’s bed.”
I groan and sink back into my chair and cover my face with my hands. “I cannot believe we’re having this conversation. And in front of people you just met.”
“We’re all adults here, Marina. Don’t be so dramatic.” She reaches over and tugs my hands down. “I’m just trying to make you laugh. My precious girl. And it’s okay to let your hair down and have fun every now and then. Remind yourself you’re still a woman.”
I look down at my wine. “I know I’m a woman.”
She cups my chin. “A vibrant, worthy woman.”
“Mom.” The word escapes my lips in a raspy voice as tears threaten to spill from my eyes.
“There it is,” she says.
Ryder comes sprinting toward the porch, soaked from head to toe. “Mommy!”
I set my wine down just as he barrels into my side.
I catch him as he wraps his arms around my neck. “Ew, you’re all wet and covered in grass.”
He grins. “Ruby got me!”
Ruby comes running up behind him, her brown curls dripping and Shelby’s tee clinging to her little body. “He got me first!”
“My goodness,” Evelyn says as she stands. “Let’s go get you two some towels.”
I look down at my son, his cheeks flushed and his eyes bright with happiness. What a difference the past couple of weeks have made for him.
Maybe Ginger Kincade is right about one thing.
I deserve a life that isn’t defined by the man who walked away, and so does my son.
My gaze drifts toward the barn.
Royce is tipping a bottle of water over his head, sending rivulets down his face and neck.
Sunlight catches the droplets as he shakes his head and drags his fingers through his damp hair.
His bare chest rises and falls with each breath, every hard-earned muscle shifting before disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans.
I look away.
At least, I try to.
Because the truth is, I don’t know if I’m ready to risk letting another man in who might eventually do the same.
But lately, there’s one particular cowboy who seems determined to challenge every bit of resolve I have left.