Chapter Twelve #2
Seth sighed. “I’m sorry.” He pressed his lips together.
“You’re like a wounded bear,” Cull snapped as he strode down the barn’s aisle.
Seth watched him walk away, then got to work with the two young horses until sweat darkened their coats to copper penny shine.
The sorrel filly impressed him most with the flag work, her brown eyes tracking the crimson flutter with the intensity of a hawk, her muscled haunches pivoting beneath her as if connected to the flag by invisible thread.
Each time she anticipated the movement correctly, her ears pricked forward in unmistakable satisfaction.
A champion cutting horse needed more than just the right physical blueprint, though the deep barrel, powerful hindquarters, and low-set hocks were non-negotiable.
Seth could spot that innate ‘cow sense’ in the way certain horses’ eyes lit up at the sight of cattle, how they’d lower their head and neck, nostrils flaring as if the dance between predator and prey was encoded in their DNA.
The best ones possessed a quiet intelligence behind their eyes, a willingness to partner rather than submit, and the athletic grace to stop on a dime and turn faster than thought.
Seth ran a hand down the filly’s damp neck, feeling the muscles twitch beneath her hide.
In eight years of training, he’d only encountered a handful of horses he couldn’t reach.
Most came around eventually, their initial resistance melting into eager cooperation once they understood the language he was teaching, a language of subtle pressure, timely release, and unwavering patience.
As he made his way inside his house, he removed his hat, sat on the bench, toed off his boots, then leaned his head back against the wall. When would this pain end? When would he be able to close his eyes at night and not see her?
Seth sighed as he got to his feet, entered the laundry room, stripped, then headed for the bathroom. After gathering up a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, he entered the bathroom to shower.
Once finished, he headed toward the kitchen to eat something, then he had some correspondence he needed to go over before heading to bed. He usually did it with his laptop, but he was sure the guys were still going over the photos they wanted.
As he made a sandwich, he heard someone knock on the door, so he walked to it, flipped on the porchlight and saw Cull standing there. Seth opened the door.
“Hey, the guys said they’d email you about the photos they want. Most of them just use their phones, so you’ll have to print them, if you don’t mind.”
“No, I don’t mind. Come inside, Cull. Have a sandwich.” Seth pulled the door open wider.
“No, that’s alright. I just wanted to give you this. I didn’t like leaving it in the barn, even if it was in my office.”
Seth took the computer, then looked at him. “Did you find some photos you wanted?”
“Just the one of her and I together.” Cull tilted his head. “Why aren’t there any of you with her?”
Seth shrugged. “She probably figured I didn’t want one.”
Cull stared at him, then shook his head. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Damn, hardhead.”
“Hey!” Seth said, but Cull didn’t pay any attention. He climbed into his pickup truck and drove off.
****
Ryan eased the front door closed behind her, the latch clicking softly in the quiet room.
She exhaled a long sigh of relief, pressing her back against the door for a moment before turning the deadbolt.
Inside, the living room embraced her with its warm lamplight and the familiar scent of sandalwood from the diffuser by the bookshelf.
She sank onto the sofa and kicked off her shoes, wiggling her toes against the carpet.
With gentle strokes she massaged the arches of her feet, relishing the release of tension that had built up all day.
Minutes later, she rose and headed up the narrow staircase, each creaking step echoing her returning fatigue.
At the top, she flipped on the muted glow of the hallway lamp and slipped into her bedroom.
She peeled off her blouse, feeling the soft cotton fall away from her shoulders, then shrugged out of her skirt as though shedding the weight of the day.
Her bra remained for a moment, before it, too, joined the growing pile of clothes on the chair.
She gathered her hair into a loose bun, twisting stray strands until they coiled neatly at the crown of her head.
Steam hissed from the faucet as she filled the tub with hot water scented faintly of lavender bubble bath.
She dipped a toe in, testing the temperature, then stepped fully into the warm embrace of the tub.
Leaning back, she rested her head against the porcelain rim, closed her eyes, and let out a heavy sigh that seemed to pull every worry from her chest. The room filled with curling wisps of steam, softening the lamplight and blurring the edges of reality.
As the hot water rippled around her, tears slipped quietly down her cheeks.
Her thoughts drifted to Seth, his stubborn jaw, the way he had looked at her the last time they saw each other as if they both knew they belonged together, but he wouldn’t ask her to stay for fear of her leaving him.
Sure, he’d been through that before, but she knew she’d stay.
Always. If he’d just ask. How stubborn could he be, she wondered, when every part of her knew they could build a life side by side?
She could imagine it, waking up with him in his sunlit bedroom, beautiful mountains in the distance, sharing morning coffee in the living room with a fire in the hearth on cold mornings.
Love like that was rare. She would never leave him, not once she’d given herself to him entirely.
Her phone buzzed insistently from the woven basket perched just beside the faucet. With reluctant fingers pruned by the bath, she fished it out, smiled when she saw ‘Skylar’ flash on the screen, and tapped the green icon.
“Hey,” she said, voice gentle but curious. “How was your date?”
Skylar’s laughter came through the speaker. “It sucked. I would’ve called sooner, but I had to finish a chapter.” Her friend’s tone brimmed with mock indignation. “He turned out to be a total dud.”
Ryan pressed her phone to her ear more firmly. “I’m sorry. He sounded promising.”
“Promising?” Skylar scoffed. “He spent the whole night praising his job, no, not praising, bragging. I told him I write romance novels, and he laughed, ‘People still read that?’ and his mother used to read them. Then he asked if I wrote soft porn.”
A ripple of amusement escaped Ryan despite herself. “That’s infuriating.”
“I know! I told him romances have changed since his mother’s era, and he smirked like I was delusional.” Skylar’s voice tightened with laughter and exasperation. “By the end, I told him I was ready to go. When we reached my door, he tried to sweet-talk his way inside. I shut that down fast.”
Ryan chuckled. “Did he at least ask for a second date?”
Skylar let out a theatrical sigh. “He kissed me on the lips, chucked me on the chin, yes, you heard me right. He chucked me on the chin! And winked. ‘I’ll call you, babe,’ he said. I wanted to laugh right in his face.”
They both erupted into laughter, the tension of the evening lifting as the steam curled around Ryan’s shoulders. Skylar added one final barb, “That nickname was his undoing. Tucker always called me babe, then I found out he had another... babe on the side. Prick.”
Ryan shook her head, grinning. “Tell you what, next time, we choose the bad date together.”
“Deal,” said Skylar. And in that warm, bubbly cocoon, Ryan felt a spark of hope flare through the memory of Seth’s stubborn smile. “How are you doing?”
“Miserable. I’m thinking of going to Clifton.”
“To see him?”
“Yes, and to make him see that I want to be with him.”
“And what happens when you get there, and you get the same answer from him?”
“I—” Ryan’s voice caught and she cleared her throat. “I don’t know, but I have to try. At least one more time. I love him, Skylar. So much and my heart is just breaking.”
“I’m so sorry. I wish I knew what to do for you.”
“I wish you did too.”
“Do you want to get together next weekend?”
“I’ll let you know. If I can get my courage up, I’ll be going to Montana.”
“You get online right now and book a flight. Before you chicken out.”
“I should.”
“Do it, Ryan. I’m going to grab a shower, work on the book, then head to bed. Send me a text or email about your flight. Oh, you’d better ask Doris.”
“Yes, I’ll do that but I’m calling the airline first. I can cancel it if Doris can’t let me have time off. I’ll talk to her at the office. I’d rather do it in person.”
“Alright. I’ll talk to you later. Love you. Hang in there.”
“I will. Love you too.” Ryan hung up, set the phone back into the basket, pulled the plug, stood, grabbed a towel and dried off.
After hanging it on the rack, she picked up her phone, entered her bedroom, pulled on a pair of sweatpants and an old T-shirt, then headed downstairs to find something to eat.
Ryan entered the office Monday morning, walked to her desk, stored her purse, then headed for Doris’s office. She was about to turn around when she saw that Doris was on the phone, but she saw Ryan and waved her in, then motioned for her to sit down.
She sat in the chair closest to the desk and waited for Doris to get off the phone. When she did, she smiled at Ryan.
“Good morning, Ryan.” Doris tilted her head. “How are you, honey?”
“Doris, I need time off.”
“I think you do too.”
“I’m going to Clifton,” Ryan said as she leaned back in the chair.
Doris grinned. “That’s a good idea.”
“Do you think so?”
“Yes. You and that man need to work something out. You’re miserable and I’d bet money he is too.”
“But he hasn’t called or anything. I sent him some photos, and all I got in a reply was that he appreciated it and the men liked them.”