Chapter 5
Chapter Five
S unny wasn’t surprised to wake up to full sunlight streaming across her bed. After she’d gotten back from Cooper Springs, she had tossed and turned until close to five o’clock in the morning . . . with Reid’s harsh words circling around and around in her head. Even as she blinked awake, the names he’d called her were still there.
Spoiled little rich girl.
Dog in heat.
What made them even worse was she couldn’t deny them. She was a spoiled little rich girl and she had been trailing after Reid like a dog in heat. There was something about the man that made her do things she had never done in her life. She wasn’t a saint by any means, but she had never been so blatant about her sexual interest. In fact, she had never had to pursue a man. They’d always pursued her. If she showed any interest, they were more than happy to oblige.
Every man but Reid.
He wanted nothing to do with her. Even though it had been quite obvious he’d liked what he’d seen. Not only had she felt his impressive erection, she’d also seen it pressing against the front of his swimsuit. Unfortunately, his body might like her, but his brain didn’t.
Probably because she was a spoiled little rich girl.
It hadn’t always been true. While her and Corbin’s parents hadn’t been dirt poor, they’d lived from paycheck to paycheck. Usually separately. Mama and Daddy had a tumultuous marriage. They couldn’t go for more than a few months without getting into a fight that sent one or the other packing. When that happened, Corbin and Sunny had been pawned off on whatever relative was willing to take them. They had lived with grandmas, aunts, uncles, and cousins. None of them had a lot of money . . . especially that they wanted to share with two orphaned relatives. She and Corbin had spent their lives wearing hand-me-down clothes and shoes and never asking for more than what they were given.
It wasn’t until Corbin had gotten old enough to get his own job that Sunny had gotten her first pair of name-brand athletic shoes. She had been over the moon and Corbin had been thrilled he could make her happy.
Looking back, that’s how it had all started—Corbin enjoying buying her things and her enjoying getting them. As they grew, the gifts got more and more extravagant. She went from designer sneakers to expensive jewelry, cars, vacations, and an apartment in Paris so she could study art. Corbin had even bought her the Holiday Ranch.
It was the only gift she hadn’t accepted and not because she hadn’t wanted it. As a kid, she had dreamed about living on the Holiday Ranch as much as she had dreamed about being one of the Holiday sisters. But she hadn’t been able to allow Mimi, Darla, and Hank to be thrown out of their family home. So she had convinced Corbin she really didn’t want the ranch and had run off to Houston.
But it was still Corbin’s money that paid for the apartment she lived in. Still, his money that bought her car, her clothes, and her food. She tried to act like she was making it as an artist, but the truth was she couldn’t pay her cellphone bill with the money she made off her paintings. She hadn’t sold one painting in the last three months and Corbin had made sure she’d had plenty of gallery showings.
A newspaper art critic had summed it up.
S. B. Whitlock has skills . . . just no talent.
In other words, Sunny was just a talentless, spoiled rich girl.
As she lay there, she grew more and more depressed . . . and more and more anxious. If she had been in Houston, she would have chosen some thrill-seeking thing to do—skydiving or wakeboarding or driving a race car at the motorsport track. The city offered numerous adrenaline-pumping activities. But here in Wilder, there was nothing but skinny-dipping at Cooper’s Springs and that was the cause of her anxiety.
Which left only one thing.
Getting up, she quickly dressed in an old T-shirt, jeans, and boots. Corbin and Belle had left two of her favorite Strawberry Sweet Cakes muffins from Nothin’ But Muffins and a note on the kitchen table saying they’d gone into town and would be back later. Sunny grabbed one of the muffins and a bottle of water from the refrigerator before she set out for the Holiday Ranch.
It was a glorious spring day. The midday sun shone brightly, but a cool breeze kept the temperature from being too hot. Bluebonnets were in full bloom and the pastures looked like a purplish-blue sea that rippled in the breeze. If Sunny had been in a better mood, she might have stopped to enjoy the sight. Instead, she barely paid attention as she headed toward the Holidays’ farmhouse.
When she got there, she spotted Mimi working in her garden. Sunny loved the older woman. Mimi was the type of grandma Sunny had always wished for—a kind yet strong woman who loved her family above all else. Normally, Sunny would make a beeline straight for Mimi and help her with her gardening. Today, she was too anxious to be around people. So she merely smiled and waved before heading up the porch steps.
As soon as she entered, she could hear Darla working in the kitchen. The sisters’ mama was an excellent cook and was always in the kitchen preparing food for her large family. Darla, Hank, Mimi, Hallie, and Jace might be the only ones living in the farmhouse, but the other married sisters and their families stopped by often.
Bypassing the kitchen, Sunny took the stairs to the second level. Once there, she walked to the end of the hallway where the dropdown stairs that led to the attic were located.
The short time Sunny had lived at the ranch, the attic had become her place to paint. With Mimi’s and Darla’s help, she had cleared out an entire area right by one of the big dormer windows and turned it into an art studio.
When she lived there, Sunny had spent hours painting the idyllic country scenes just outside the windows. Country landscapes were her specialty. Or had been before all the bad reviews had given her painter’s block. Now she couldn’t even paint a plain slat fence that didn’t look like a kindergartener’s.
But today, she didn’t want to paint fences or idyllic country scenes.
Today, her anxiety pushed her to paint something darker . . . something angrier.
After adjusting her easel, she took the largest canvas from the stack leaning against the wall and placed it on the bottom canvas holder before securing it with the top holder. Moving to her art table, she went through the wide array of acrylic paints. After selecting Prussian green, cobalt blue, and raw sienna, she squirted some of each in plastic Solo cups before adding glazing liquid and water from a jug she kept on the table. Once the paint was thinned and mixed to the desired consistency, she picked up the container of green paint and moved over to the easel.
She studied the pristine white canvas for only a moment before she lifted the cup and with a snap of her wrist . . . threw the paint at it.
It landed in a satisfying splat. She watched the paint drip down the canvas before she continued splattering paint until the cup was empty. Then she did the same with the blue and brown paint until the canvas was completely covered with dripping splats of paint.
She stood back and studied it. It was a true mess, but there was something missing. Mainly, her anxiety. After tossing the paint cups in the trash, she squirted some scarlet-red paint onto a palette, mixed it with a little burnt umber, then scooped some onto a long, thin palette knife and started applying the red to the splattered painting. The more she streaked globs of red through the dripping splats the more the tight knot of anxiety in her gut loosened.
She layered in other colors using her palette knife, mars black and ultramarine blue, before she picked up a brush and start adding highlights and shadows. She worked until her arm ached and her back hurt. When she was finally finished, she stood back and studied the painting.
She laughed. “If the art critics would see this, they’d really think I don’t have any talent.”
Thankfully, no one would ever see it. Once it had dried, Sunny would hide it with the other angry art that was stacked under a tarp in the corner of the attic. She should probably start throwing the paintings away—not only the ones here, but also the ones she’d painted in Houston. Maybe, if she ever had the courage to tell the Holiday sisters about her strange violent art, they could have a big bonfire and burn all of them.
And all her pent up anger with them.
“Sunny?”
She startled and glanced at the opening to the attic just as Mimi’s white head appeared.
“Hey, Mimi!” She quickly turned the easel to the wall. “No need to come up. I’ll come down.”
Of course, Mimi didn’t listen. She never listened.
She finished climbing the stairs. “You okay? You’ve been up here for hours.”
Hours?
Sunny glanced out the window, surprised to see that the bright midday light had changed to shadowy dusk. “Goodness. I didn’t realize how late it was getting. I was going to help you garden.”
“No worries. There are plenty of days left to get the garden ready for planting. You need to get on home.” Mimi glanced at Sunny’s paint-splattered clothes. “And get washed up. Corbin called looking for you. I guess he’s taking you and Belle out to dinner at the Hellhole tonight.”
Sunny grabbed a rag to wipe off her hands. She felt much better than she had earlier, but she still didn’t feel like going out. Or maybe what she didn’t feel like was running into Reid.
“I might just pass on dinner,” she said.
Mimi studied her. “Something wrong?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m fine. I just feel a little tired, is all.”
“I can understand why. Getting into an accident can sure knock the wind out of you.”
Sunny blinked. “An accident?”
Mimi scowled. “So you’re going to lie to me like you did to Corbin?”
“Umm . . . I . . . who told you?”
“Hallie.”
So much for thinking that what was discussed at the Secret Sisterhood meetings was sacred. Or maybe that rule only applied to real sisters.
Sunny sighed. “Did you tell Corbin?”
“No, but I’m sure Belle did. Wives don’t usually keep things from their husbands. I’m sure all the husbands know by now . . . along with Reid Mitchell.”
“Reid? Hallie told Reid?”
“I told Reid. As Sophie’s guardian, he needed to know.”
Sunny flopped down on a nearby trunk. “Great. Now Reid will really hate me.”
Mimi took a seat on a trunk across from her. “I don’t think he hates you. He was a little upset when he learned the truth, but I’m sure by now he’s had some time to think about it and realizes you only did it to protect Sophie.”
Sunny didn’t think he’d see it that way.
“He’s a good man, that one,” Mimi continued. “The way he took on his niece after his sister passed away proves it. Not many single men would be willing to take on a belligerent teenager. Still, I can tell that he’s questioning his decision. And like most men, he’s too stubborn to admit he needs help.”
Sunny snorted. “Stubborn and mean spirited.”
Mimi studied her. “So you aren’t like the other single women in town who are drooling over him?”
“Not hardly.” When Mimi lifted her eyebrows, Sunny quickly amended, “I mean he’s good looking and all, but I like my men to smile more than once every ten years.”
Mimi laughed. “He is a solemn man. But have you ever heard the saying, ‘Still waters run deep’? I think there’s a lot more to Reid than his stubbornness and solemn personality.” A twinkle entered her eyes. A twinkle Sunny had seen before when Mimi was up to something. “It will just take the right woman to dig deep enough to find it.”
Sunny’s eyes widened. “I hope you’re not getting any ideas that I’m the right woman, Mimi. Reid can barely tolerate me and I’m not real partial to him either.” At least, she wasn’t after finding out he thought she was a spoiled brat. “And even if I was, it wouldn’t work out when I live in Houston.”
The twinkle got even brighter before she looked away. “Well, you’re probably right.” She stood. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy other good-lookin’ Wilder men. Now get on home and get cleaned up. Young women shouldn’t be hiding away in an attic when they can be kicking up their heels at the Hellhole.”
After she was gone, Sunny moved back to the paint table to clean up. While she was closing up tubes of paint, she glanced out the window and saw a horse and rider crossing the pasture behind the barn. She didn’t need to see the face beneath the brown Stetson to know who it was.
She wanted to look away, but her eyes didn’t obey her brain. She continued to watch as Reid approached. As he got closer, she could see the way he sat a saddle. Comfortable. Easy. Like he’d been riding every day of his life. His body moved as one with the horse, his hand loosely holding the reins as if he didn’t even need them to guide the horse. Once he came around the barn, she got a view from the back.
It must have been a hard day on the range because sweat stuck his western shirt to his broad shoulders and his dark hair to his strong-corded neck. Sunny’s fingers twitched with the need to run through those damp strands. She fisted her hand and continued to watch as he swung down from the saddle in one fluid move that made her heart skip a beat. It skipped again when he froze and his head slowly turned in her direction and tipped up.
She jumped back from the window, squirting the red paint she held all over her shirt. She stared down at the mess and cursed. What was she doing? The man had told her to stay away from him and here she was mooning over him like an infatuated fool. Well, she might be an untalented, spoiled rich girl, but she was no fool.
Mimi was right.
Just because an arrogant cowboy had hurt her feelings that didn’t mean she should hide away in an attic.
Reid Mitchell wasn’t the only handsome cowboy in Wilder, Texas.