Chapter Eleven
Friday morning, Ryan entered the glossy, open-plan offices of the magazine, the scent of fresh coffee and printer toner hanging in the air.
She pulled the metal drawer out with a soft scrape, placed her leather purse in it, then shoved it closed.
She pulled her chair out, the wheels squeaking slightly against the polished floor, sat down and turned on her sleek computer.
The screen cast a blue glow across her tired face as she plugged her phone into it, carefully check-marking the vibrant photos she wanted to add to the magazine’s folder so Doris could choose which ones would go with the interview.
She had done the same ritual on her personal laptop at home, and every time she saw a sun-drenched photo of the sprawling ranch, the men in their dusty jeans, and especially Seth with his gorgeous grin and those moss green eyes, she’d burst into tears that left mascara tracks down her cheeks.
“Good morning, Ryan.”
She glanced up, blinking away the moisture threatening her eyes, to see Doris standing beside her desk, impeccably dressed in a crimson pantsuit, and forced her lips into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Good morning, Doris. I’m downloading the photos I got of Clifton—” her voice caught and she cleared her throat, swallowing hard. “They’re great. You’d love the town, with its charming storefronts and friendly locals.”
Doris sighed, a sound heavy with concern, as she pulled a chair from another desk with a screech across the floor, slid it beside Ryan’s and sat down, her perfume, something floral and expensive, wafting between them.
“You’re not fooling anyone with this ‘happier than shit’ attitude you’ve got going on.”
Ryan looked at her to see her staring with a perfectly arched eyebrow raised in challenge, crow’s feet crinkling at the corners of her knowing eyes, and sighed, her shoulders slumping.
“I’m trying to get over this.”
“Oh, really? And you think that will only take a week?” Doris’s voice was gentle but firm, like a mother’s would be. “Because that’s all it’s been, honey. One week since you left that man with that heartbreaking smile, and you’re not going to get over him that fast.”
“I kept all the photos I took of him and his place,” Ryan admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
“The men who work for him in their dusty Stetsons, but mostly of him, Seth leaning against the fence at sunset, Seth laughing at something one of the men said. I stare at them at night in my bedroom. Bawl my eyes out until my pillow’s soaked and then try to sleep just one night without him invading my dreams.”
Doris’s hand pressed gently against Ryan’s shoulder through the red blouse she wore, offering what comfort she could. “I’m so sorry, Ryan,” she said in a low, sympathetic voice, the fluorescent office lights humming overhead. “I’ve never seen you this torn up over a man.”
Ryan’s shoulders hunched as she set her coffee mug aside, the ceramic clinking softly on the metal desk. “I love him, Doris… but he thinks he was just a—” She waved her hand as if trying to grab the word from the air.
“A fling?” Doris prompted, her tone gentle.
Ryan shook her head, her dark hair brushing against her cheek. “No. More like a fascination on my part, a foolish notion that we could be together. He thinks I pursued him because he’s not the type of man I usually date.”
“He’s right about that,” Doris said softly, sitting back to peer at Ryan’s weary expression. “But if you didn’t mean it, why say you’d stay? Can’t he see that?”
Tears welled in Ryan’s eyes. She blinked them away, her voice barely a whisper. “I wouldn’t have lied. I fell for Clifton, but mostly… I fell for Seth. And now I’m never going to have him in my life.”
Doris let out a sigh. “Honey, why don’t you go home? You sure you want to stick around here?”
Ryan pressed her fingertips to her temples. “If I go home, I’ll just cry all day. Please, let me work.”
With a reluctant nod, Doris pushed back the chair, then pulled it back across to the other desk. It scraped across the tile floor with a jar that made Ryan wince. “Alright. But remember, if it gets to be too much, you let me know.”
“Thanks,” Ryan murmured, managing a small, grateful smile. “I’m going to call Skylar later, ask her to come over tonight. I haven’t even told her about Seth.”
Doris shook her head in mock disapproval. “You haven’t told your best friend about the man you’re head over heels for? She may not be thrilled, but she loves you.”
“She’s been so busy. I hated to bother her.”
“She wouldn’t have cared. You know that. Have a good weekend.”
“You too,” Ryan whispered, turning back to her desktop’s matte screen where the pixels glowed too brightly.
She blinked hard, momentarily blurring the photo of Seth and Cull that dominated the display, their weathered Stetsons casting identical shadows across their faces, the brims nearly touching as they hunched over a spindly seedling cradled in Cull’s gloved palm.
She clicked to the next image, both men caught mid-laugh, their breath visible as crystalline clouds in the crisp early air, while copper-gold sunlight filtered through the cottonwoods, illuminating dust motes that hung suspended between them like tiny constellations.
A fresh ache bloomed beneath her sternum, hollow and persistent like a day-old bruise accidentally pressed.
She missed Cull, too, along with the other men.
She had fun with them, and they never once treated her like an outsider.
That evening, Ryan steered her red SUV along the winding country lane toward her townhome. She pressed the button on the steering wheel and dialed Skylar McCoy on Bluetooth.
“Ryan! Hey, what’s up?” Skylar’s warm voice came through the speakers.
“Skylar, you’re not at your cabin, are you?”
“Not yet. I was just packing to leave. Why? What do you need?”
“Would you come over here for the weekend instead? We can order takeout. I’ve got so much to tell you.
” Ryan gripped the wheel, her knuckles whitening.
Skylar was a best-selling author and was published through a huge firm out of New York.
Though she lived in California, her publisher was across the country.
“Of course.” Skylar said. “What’s going on?”
“I’ve missed you, with your busy author life and all that.”
Skylar groaned theatrically. “If my hero doesn’t start talking again, I swear I’m killing him off.”
Ryan laughed, genuinely this time. “You’d never do that to your readers. Plan for an all-weekend catch-up. I have plenty of take-out menus. We’ll find something and watch some sappy movies.”
“Uh, oh. Sappy? It does sound like you have something to tell me. I’ll bring wine and chocolate, see you around six-thirty?”
“Sounds great. Love you, Skylar.”
“Love you too, Ryan. See you soon.” Skylar hung up, and Ryan exhaled.
Later, Ryan opened the door to see her best friend, Skylar, already dressed in an old T-shirt and red sweatpants.
Ryan looked at her feet to see she was wearing her fuzzy bunny slippers.
Her wheat-colored hair was up in a ponytail and her pale blue eyes filled with concern.
Skylar balanced two bottles of rich merlot, a gold-foil box of chocolate-covered cherries, and a plush box of tissues.
“Hey,” Skylar said as Ryan opened the door wider, the hinges creaking slightly. Skylar stepped over the threshold and wrapped Ryan in a tight embrace that smelled of vanilla perfume.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Ryan whispered, her voice catching in her throat.
“I will always be here for you. I promise,” Skylar said, squeezing Ryan’s shoulders before letting go.
“I’m sorry to take you away from your cabin.”
“Oh, honey, I’ll just go Monday.”
“You didn’t drive in those bunny slippers, did you?”
Skylar laughed. “No. I just switched them out with my sandals before coming inside.”
“Let’s put this wine in the fridge and look at the menus. I got them out.” Ryan pointed to the coffee table where a fan of colorful take-out menus spread across the polished wood surface.
“Okay. I’ll put this away. You find us something good to eat. I could go for Chinese.” Skylar’s bracelets jingled as she gathered the wine bottles.
“Ooh, that does sound good.” Ryan’s stomach growled at the thought of steaming dumplings and tangy orange chicken along with shrimp fried rice.
“Do you want a glass of wine now?” Skylar called from the kitchen; the refrigerator door closed with a soft thud.
“I’d better eat something first. I didn’t eat today and that wine would go straight to my head.” Ryan ran her fingers through her tangled dark hair.
“Well, I’m going to have one. Oh, let me get my overnight bag out of the car first.” Skylar jingled her car keys.
“Okay. I’ll look for a movie too.” Ryan reached for the remote.
Skylar started toward the door, shuffling her slippers against the hardwood floor. She stopped and looked back; her forehead creased with worry. “Are you okay?”
Ryan shook her head as a tear escaped and traced a path down her flushed cheek. “No.”
“Let me get my things, put them away, get my wine, and then you’re going to tell me what’s going on.” Skylar’s voice was gentle but firm.
Ryan held her hand up. “I promise.”