Chapter Six
Shauna
W hether Nix had either an ex-wife or a current one changed nothing as far as Shauna was concerned. In her professional experience, any ex-wife who felt free to call her ex-husband any time she liked, and insist he come to the phone, presented a problem she did not need to involve herself in.
But she hated unfinished business. Especially when it resulted in awkwardness. Since Taryn refused to back down, and Nix and Shauna would be seeing each other on a regular basis, they had to get past this. The Remi problem hadn’t yet been resolved either.
She waited until Taryn was in the shower Monday morning before calling the bunkhouse. No answer. She called from her office at lunchtime. No one picked up.
Finally, after Taryn went to her bedroom that evening, she ducked outside and called from her car.
The street was quiet. The neighbors on either side had turned their outside lights off, although warmth glowed from the main windows. Blue light dancing in the window of the house across the street meant elderly Mrs. Tedford was watching the ten o’clock news.
The wife—ex or not—who could make Nix run to the phone when she called was the thing about the other night that bothered her the most. If not for that, Shauna might be more inclined to lead with the apology she owed him.
She’d been the instigator, and she burned with mortification whenever she thought about her behavior.
Instead, she propped her knees against the steering wheel, and while the phone rang, rehearsed what she longed to say.
“ How’s your wife? I hope she’s not too terribly upset about you kissing me.
” Or “ Phew! Good thing Handy walked in when he did and not a few minutes later. Some things can’t be unseen. ”
Nix answered on the fifth ring. He sounded grumpy, as if she’d woken him up, which was impossible. No grown man went to bed at this hour.
“About the other night… We should discuss it and clear the air,” she said, getting straight to the point. “Address what happened between us head-on. If Taryn is going to participate in your clinic, then we need to put it behind us.”
“Agreed,” Nix said. His voice dropped to a fast whisper that she could barely make out.
“Look, I can’t talk right now. There’s a bunkhouse full of men trying to get some sleep.
For future reference, the alarm clock here goes off at four.
Meet me Friday night at the little Methodist church.
The one you drive by on the way to the ranch.
We can park behind it and talk in private. ”
“Does eight o’clock work?”
She hadn’t planned to meet him face-to-face—a phone conversation should have been enough—but since he didn’t have a cell phone so they could speak in private, then that option was out. Who didn’t own a cell phone these days?
“Get off the damn phone,” a sleepy voice complained in the background. “Get yourself a damn cell phone like the rest of the damn world if you want to talk the whole damn night.”
“Eight is fine.”
He disconnected abruptly, without saying goodbye.
*
Friday night arrived and Shauna hadn’t come up with an excuse to get out of the house.
A large central island divided her kitchen and living room into two separate spaces. She stacked supper dishes in the dishwasher on one side of the island while Taryn lounged on the sofa in front of the television.
Taryn’s first week of school had gone better than she’d expected.
No one called her to complain. No one threatened expulsion.
And as far as she knew, Taryn came straight home after school because books, sweaters, and shoes littered the entry and music blared from her bedroom every evening when Shauna arrived after work.
Taryn wasn’t the best roommate. She didn’t cook, and the one time she’d run the washing machine, she’d ruined two cashmere sweaters—one of her own, so it hadn’t been deliberate—and the thin cotton blouse Shauna had worn to the ranch.
“Huh. I thought hot water would get rid of this stain. How did you get grease on it, anyway?” Taryn said, pulling the sad, abused garment out of the washer and holding it up.
“I must’ve leaned on something.” Shauna’s face had started to burn, even though technically, she was telling the truth. Except it had been someone, not something. And if challenged her explanation would never hold up in court.
Fortunately—depending on how one looked at it—Taryn had a more vested interest in deflecting blame than establishing truth. “It was already ruined. You can use it for cleaning,” she’d said, before tossing it in the dryer with a load of sweatshirts and jeans.
“What are your plans for the evening?” Shauna asked now, striving for casual, because telling fibs wasn’t one of her skills.
“I’m gaming online with friends,” Taryn said, which gave Shauna pause. She hadn’t known her girly sister was a gamer. How had she missed that piece of intel? Should she be worried? Online predators were rampant.
Common sense intervened before she could go too far down that dark path. She worried too much. If Taryn was going to get herself in trouble online, it would have happened long before now and no one could have stopped her.
She stowed the last plate and closed the dishwasher door. “Don’t forget we have to be at the ranch tomorrow morning for nine o’clock.”
That got her sister’s attention. She looked up from her phone. “What do you mean, ‘we’? I have my own car.”
They stared at each other—Taryn belligerent, Shauna defensive.
“I mean,” Shauna said carefully, sensing a boundary that was about to be tested, “that I want to make sure everything is safe. I’m legally responsible for you. As your sister, if this is something you’re really interested in, then I want to show my support.”
“You mean you want to see Nix.”
The way Taryn said it, with so much hostility, resentment, and dislike, left Shauna speechless. Why was it only now occurring to her that her little sister might not have been messing with him? That she might genuinely be interested in him?
Which meant Shauna should proceed with extreme caution, and at her own peril, because Taryn was right, she did want to see him. Guilt tap-danced with her conscience as the first wave of shock began to wear off.
“Nix is a good-looking man,” she said carefully, which was true. “There’s no harm in looking.” Also, true. “But we don’t have much in common.” Very, very true.
“Who cares what you have in common? All you want from him is sex,” Taryn said snidely, shocking Shauna further, because what could her baby sister possibly know about sex?
“Oh please.” Taryn correctly interpreted her speechlessness and dismissed it with a shrug of her eyes. “How many virgins do you think there are at my age?”
Shauna had assumed—hoped—at least one. She counted to ten.
You’re not her mother.
Her little sister was past the age of consent, and as long as she didn’t get pregnant—which Shauna was forced to concede seemed highly unlikely, because Taryn was too smart to not take precautions—then there wasn’t much she could do about it, except make it as difficult for her as possible to find alone time with boys.
Nix was a whole other matter. Maybe he really did have cause for concern—although he’d made it clear that he did, indeed, prefer women. Shauna went hot, head to toe, whenever she thought of their kiss, and a shot of pure lust dislodged a thought from her brain.
She could get him into bed if she wanted. And she wanted to. Very much. She’d almost forgotten what sex was like, and she had no doubt that sex with him would be good. Very good.
But she’d promised herself that she’d set a good example for Taryn, and Nix was a good place to start. She wasn’t competing with her little sister over a man.
She’d meet with him. They’d clear the air. Then, once Taryn saw for herself that Nix wasn’t interested in either of them, she’d give up on bull riding and find new ways to try Shauna’s patience until Christmas.
Shauna grabbed her car keys from the hook beside the door that led to the garage off the kitchen. She didn’t need to make up any excuses to get out of the house. She was the adult in this relationship. She was the one who could do as she pleased.
“I’m going out. Call my cell if you need anything. No need to wait up.”
*
Nix
Nix pulled into the Methodist church’s parking lot a few minutes early.
Pretty, stained-glass front windows that faced the main road were lit up from outside by flood lights mounted into the lawn.
The rear of the church, with its weather-worn graveyard overlooking the Tongue River, remained shrouded in shadows, thanks in part to the massive cottonwoods that had grown beside it for decades.
He parked close to the back of the building, out of sight of the road, then rolled down the half-ton truck’s window and killed the engine.
He liked to hear the night sounds, and between a lonely heron, the calling song of crickets, and the gurgling of water flowing over stones, the river did not disappoint.
He regretted being abrupt with Too Good on the phone, but she’d interrupted a dream where she’d been the star, and the reality of the chasm between them wasn’t nearly as sweet.
He liked women. Adored them, in fact. Why he had the world’s worst luck in dealing with them was a puzzle he’d lost the will to unravel.
He’d been so close with his mother and sister…
When had they disappeared from his life?
Opposing their marriage hadn’t endeared them to Peg.
And Peg had never liked them, so that factored in.
Looking back, it wasn’t much of an excuse.
She’d never liked anyone who took his attention off her.
He’d kept in touch with his father for a while, but his dad wasn’t much of a talker, and they’d drifted apart.