Chapter Twelve
Maclyn stirred, reaching out a lazy hand for the man sleeping beside her. When her fingers brushed over empty sheets her eyes opened, and then she remembered. She was alone because she’d chosen to be alone.
She pressed her face into the pillow, drew in his scent as she fought an unwarranted sense of loss. Waking up this way was better. No one to disappoint. No one to disappoint you.
Mac pushed the covers back and got out of bed, pulling on socks to protect her feet from the cold floor before opening the door to let Raisin outside.
The rain had stopped, but the mud lived on.
She rubbed the back of her neck, pushing up her hair and holding it as she regarded her still-wet jacket lying on the wood planks next to Trev’s mucky jeans and wet shirt.
Yeah … she’d have to get those back to him.
She dropped her hand, letting her hair fall. Was she about to burn another bridge in order to keep her autonomy?
If you burn too many, you’ll have nowhere to go.
Did she even need to strike a match? Trev understood. He’d promised not to hem her in.
He also knew parts of her background that she rarely shared. And why did she rarely share any part of herself anymore? Because she didn’t want to give someone the ability to hurt her. Better to be cool and distant.
Yet she’d shared with Trev.
Ten minutes later she sat at the table with her morning coffee, pretending to herself that the little house didn’t feel empty.
That she was fine being alone, which was, after all, her preferred state.
She caught a movement through the gauze curtain and pushed it aside to see Trev heading to the barn.
No … not Trev. The elusive Jordan was back.
She hadn’t seen the middle Matthews brother since their rodeo days, when he’d been a bona fide head-turner with his lean muscular build, wavy dark hair, and dazzling smile. Some thought that he was hotter than Trev. They were wrong, of course.
If Jordan was back to stay, then Trev was free to leave.
And he would. He had new job responsibilities.
A different life. He might not like the job, and he might not want to admit to having changed from being the guy who lived only for the next big rodeo to someone who took responsibility seriously, but he was that man.
It was Saturday. Technically her day off. She’d never taken the day off before because she preferred to stay busy, but today, after feeding her horses and making certain there were no calving emergencies, she was going to take off.
Are you dodging a certain cowboy?
Maybe … until she straightened out a few things in her head and dealt with the Brooke situation. But Brooke and job possibilities were not at the forefront of her thoughts as she made breakfast.
Sex without strings was great in theory, when none of those pesky unseen circumstances or unpredictable emotions came into play.
But what happened when no-strings-attached sex caused you to realize that you really cared for the guy?
That deep feelings had snuck up on you when you weren’t looking?
That your fear you were falling for him became reality?
Do. Not. Go. There.
Half an hour later, after feeding her horses and hanging Trev’s wet clothes over the shower rod for him to collect later, Maclyn gave up. Her brain was going there. Not only that, it refused to leave.
Emotional consequences were setting in and her first instinct was to try to outrun them.
Or outwait them. If she could keep her cool during Trev’s last days on the Tree Fork, keep her hands to herself, then maybe, once he was back on his job, she could get a grip. Rebuild her defenses.
He promised not to hem you in. You’re worrying about nothing.
She shrugged into her jacket while Raisin danced in front of the door, excited about a new adventure. Maclyn hesitated before leaving the safety of the foreman’s house, wondering if she was going to bump into Trev before she was mentally prepared.
One-night stands were not supposed to be this confounding. Obviously she’d done something wrong.
Yeah. You did. You fell for the guy.
Her phone dinged in her pocket. She went still, then pulled it out, her stomach knotting when she saw that it was a message from Mike Hersey. She opened the message, read it, then told herself it was exactly the result she’d expected before dropping the phone back into her jacket pocket.
So why was she disappointed?
Because a job at Dawson Meadows Arena would have given her an easy out from her current predicament.
Well, that wasn’t going to happen. Mac’s jaw tightened.
Maybe it was frustration. Maybe it was desperation. Or again, maybe she had no fucks left to give. The idea of confronting Brooke was now a full-fledged mission. That woman had screwed with her one time too many.
*
Maclyn arrived at the Dawson Meadow Arena a little before noon. She assumed from the cars and trucks pulling out of the lot that a class had just ended, but the sports car she’d seen Brooke getting into the day of her interview was still parked near the stables.
Maclyn approached the office and peered through the window in the door. The lights were off, and the room was empty. A teenage girl led a horse past the office and Maclyn asked if she’d seen Brooke around.
“I think she’s in the arena.”
Maclyn thanked the girl and headed to the indoor enclosure the girl had pointed at.
She found Brooke inside grooming a stately Friesian tied to the rails, so focused on a tangle in the mare’s thick mane that she didn’t look up until Mac was only a few feet away. When she realized who was approaching she stepped back, putting a hand to her chest.
“Surprised?” Mac asked.
“I …”
“Haven’t had time to prepare remarks?”
Brooke stroked the mare’s mare, but kept her mouth stubbornly shut, as if by not talking, the matter would go away.
“I assume that you’re the reason I got the polite rejection this morning?”
“We had other qualified candidates.”
“None of whom knew any secrets about you.”
Brooke shot a look toward the arena where Mike was busy helping a young rider. Her expression remained set as she then met Maclyn’s gaze. “I’d like to discuss this at another time.”
Maclyn folded her arms as she tilted her head. “Some vague to-be-arranged time and place in the uncertain future?”
“No. Something definite.” The Friesian, sensing the energy between the two women, moved nervously, but Brooke stilled the horse with a touch.
Her charm worked on all creatures great and small—until it didn’t.
Mike was approaching now, walking slowly next to a boy leading a Welsh pony. “Where are you living?”
Maclyn had given her post office box as her address on the application. “A ranch outside of Marietta.” She didn’t mention Trev’s name, because why?
“Remember that bar we celebrated in after the Copper Mountain Rodeo the year you won the barrel racing?”
“Grey’s Saloon.”
“I’m driving to Wyoming to look at a horse. Could we meet there?”
“When?”
“Day after tomorrow. I’ll text you the time.”
“Then I guess I’ll unblock you.” Maclyn rather liked the expression that crossed her former friend’s face.
Mike and the student were only a few yards away. The student peeled off, leading the pony to the exit while Mike continued toward them.
“Does he know that I’ve been rejected, or was that all you?”
“Of course he knows,” Brooke murmured, shooting another look at her fiancé.
Maclyn shrugged. “Just wondering, what with your track record of lying to the guy in your life.”
Color crept up Brooke’s cheeks, but she forced a smile. “I’m glad you understand,” she said loud enough for Mike to hear. “If something opens up, and that’s a very real possibility, we’ll give you a call.”
Mike put an arm around Brooke, giving her a quick hug before saying to Maclyn, “You were a very close second, and we’d love to have you on board. You did a great job with that filly.”
“You never know how things will work out,” Brooke agreed, leaning into him.
“No,” Maclyn agreed. “You don’t.” She met Brooke’s gaze briefly. “I’ll be going. I just wanted to stop on my way by, thank you guys for the interview and let you know I am still interested.”
When she walked toward the exit, she could hear Mike and Brooke talking in low voices, but she was fairly certain it wasn’t a confession on Brooke’s part.
Would Brooke show up at Grey’s day after tomorrow? If so, would she apologize? Make excuses?
It didn’t matter. Maclyn was going to have her say after all these years.
*
“I’m going to be sane about this.” Trev opened the tractor shroud. “I’ll live lean, pay off as much debt as possible before I quit, but I’m bailing from this job as soon as I find something closer to home.”
Jordan had spent the morning listening as Trev bounced shit off him, all related to work, despite his brother’s redirections toward the subject of Maclyn.
Trev had used the surprise father discussion to dodge questions about his girlfriend the previous evening, and he’d refrained from telling Jordan who’d really been driving his truck the night of the accident, because that would have led to more questions.
He continued to dodge the subject through breakfast and the morning cow check, and Jordan had finally given up.
“Is that your phone or mine?” Jordan asked when a ringtone sounded from the workbench where they’d dumped their coats before digging into the tractor’s hydraulic system.
“Mine?” Trev headed to the coats, flipping his over and digging in the pocket as the phone continued to ring. He answered without looking, then grinned when a familiar voice said hello.
“What’s up?” he asked Dylan. He hadn’t heard from his roping partner, make that former roping partner, in weeks.
“My job died.”
“Sorry to hear that.” When his friend had hired onto the 88 Ranch, he’d been hopeful of staying for at least two years.
Dylan laughed. “Me, too. It was actually a pretty good job.”
“What happened?”
“Long story. I thought I’d check to see if you guys still needed a temporary day hand.”