“The ranch hands he has on staff take care of his livestock, and me and my people take care of everything else. I’m not in the habit of deserting the people I care about, Reagan, so learn to ask before you start firing shots.” Asher’s confusion had given way to anger, and Reagan couldn’t be upset about something she’d totally caused.

  Asher’s message was clear. She’d stayed and taken care of Uncle Wade, Frida, and everyone else. It had been Reagan who’d run and ignored her responsibilities to family and the ranch. She hadn’t been needed because Asher had taken care of everything.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Maybe this isn’t a good idea. If Kendra’s available, then have her call me, or I’ll call her when I get back from my appointment.” Asher’s mask slid back into place, and there was nothing short of telling her to fuck off that was going to get her to open up again.

  “If that’s what you want,” she said, not being able to help the little bit of snark, even if she wasn’t entitled to it.

  Asher laughed. “When in the world have you ever been concerned with what I want?”

  She stood and left, not wanting to be subjected to Asher’s contempt another second. Granted, she deserved that and so much more, but the pain in her chest was real, and it was making the battle to keep her tears at bay a losing proposition. Her face was streaked with them when she made it back to the kitchen, and of course Rickie was in there working on dinner.

  “Take this with you,” Rickie said, handing her a bottle of water and some tissues.

  “Thank you.”

  “It’s none of my business, but the easy out here is to give her what she wants.” Rickie stared at her as if daring her to look away. “If you do that, then don’t come back. You do that and you leave her alone. It took Uncle Wade and my mother a lot of time to put her back together, so don’t come here with your wrong assumptions and half-assed guesses. She’s suffered enough, don’t you think?”

  “You heard her,” she said, upset she couldn’t keep her voice from cracking. “She doesn’t want me here, and it’s not an unreasonable request.”

  “My mom was wrong about you, then. I didn’t pay attention to why you left when you did, but I’ve been working for Asher for two years now. She’s not that hard to understand.” Rickie pointed to one of the stools on the other side of the large island. The move reminded Reagan of Frida. “If you’re moving back here, and going out to Moon Touch, then it might be a good time to start figuring out who the hell Asher is. Not who she was when she was wild about you. That Asher doesn’t exist any longer—no offense to you, but what you did kind of sucked.”

  “That it did,” she said and laughed. Therapy might have been easier if she’d gone to someone like Rickie.

  “Thing is, she’s spent years building this place up and riding the circuit. We won’t talk about that part since I hear you’re sensitive about the subject. Pemberley is a world class operation, and it’s all because of Asher and her hard work. That’s all she’s done from the time you left, and it seems almost comical that you’ve come back just when she’s shown interest in someone.”

  “I’m not here to mess things up for her if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “Asher will boot you out of here before I can worry about anything, so that’s not why we’re having this conversation, a conversation I will deny until I’m dead, so keep that in mind.” Rickie went back to chopping meat into small pieces. “Asher needs to forgive you, not so much for you, but for her. She’ll never move forward free of her past until she does.”

  “Ah, so you’re not talking to me for me.” The humor in all this did get her to stop crying. “You’re very insightful for someone who’s barely twenty.”

  “I’m older than that, and you’re kind of an idiot.” Rickie didn’t put any heat behind her insult. It was just a statement of fact. “I’m talking to you and dispensing all this wisdom because my mother called and told me to. She said if you pick the easy way out, it’ll prove you’re only book smart, and that’ll be a real shame. Life is too long to be such a fool every single minute of the day. All those minutes and days add up, so it’s time to wise up.”

  “Good old Frida.” She understood Rickie better now. She’d graduated from Frida’s school of blunt. “Thanks for the water and the talk. I appreciate you taking the time, and make sure she keeps her foot elevated. I know the doctor recommends doing that for a week, but I think it reminds patients, especially patients like Asher, to take it easy until she can put weight on it.”

  “She’s in good hands, don’t worry.”

  She nodded and moved around to hug Rickie even if she seemed the prickly kind. “I know she is.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Two more weeks, Asher.” Another stitch was removed, and Asher kept her eye on Dr. Harry Basantes’s hands as she steadily cut through the row of black sutures running up from her ankle. “That means fourteen days, not ten,” Harry said as she put her instruments down.

  “I got it.” Asher tried not to sound whiny, but she figured Harry was on to her. “You could cut me some slack and say nine days.”

  “Don’t give me shit. I know you.” Harry laughed as she checked over her leg. “This looks good, so we’ll put on the permanent cast.” The supplies were laid out, and Harry started to get them ready.

  “I know you’re busy, Harry, so have the nurse do it if you want.” She stared at the bruise on her foot, and a vivid picture of that damn bull came into her head. “I promise I’ll be good.”

  “I like to stay in practice, so sit back and relax. Now if you want to finish the season, you’ll listen to me. That means sit there and take some deep breaths while I put a bright pink cast on you.” Harry winked as she held up the black roll. “Did you meet with the therapist Kendra set up for you?”

  “Yes.” It was all she could say on the subject. Having Reagan around every day for weeks wasn’t something that was going to be easy. It was like being asked to shower with an aggressive rattlesnake every morning. Could it be done? Probably, but why would you want to?

  “That’s an interesting answer. Is there a problem? I know Reagan’s new, but her résumé is terrific. We were lucky to recruit her. From what I understand, the Seahawks were close to offering her a permanent position.” Harry started by placing a protective layer of padding on her foot before rolling the fiberglass cast material to right below her knee. “I’m sensing a problem, though, so tell Dr. Harry all about it.”

  “Don’t give me that shit. You’ve probably talked to Frida and Wade, so you know exactly who Kendra sent to my house. And you did it anyway.” She was about to rev up her argument when the door opened. Seeing Reagan in black scrubs made her think her placement was something either Frida or Wade cooked up. They were meddling busybodies, and no one could convince her otherwise.

  “Good morning,” Reagan said. Her tone was bright as if she wasn’t the woman who’d imploded her psyche and walked away like it didn’t matter at all. “Dr. Basantes invited me so I could ask questions about the regime we’re going to follow.”

  “Thanks.” Asher cursed that she couldn’t put any weight on her foot. If she had one pet peeve it was being manipulated. And this shit was some major manipulation. She’d bet the ranch on it, but protesting would only make her out to be the asshole.

  “Hey, Reagan,” Harry said, “would you mind waiting outside for a few minutes? I was talking to Asher about something, so it won’t take long.”

  “Sure.” Reagan walked out like yesterday, and not once ever looked back.

  “Tell me you didn’t know she’s Silas’s daughter and Wade’s niece and I’ll drop it,” Asher said. “Only I know there’s no way you did not know, so cut the shit.” Deep breathing wasn’t helping the pain, so she closed her eyes and concentrated on the back of her eyelids. “I’m sure they all want a happy reunion, and that is not happening in this or any other lifetime.”

  “Wait.” Harry put her hands on her shoulders when they were alone again. “Before you tee off on me, I really didn’t know anything about the history here. I respect you more than that as a friend, and as a patient.”

  “Then how did I end up with Reagan?” She wasn’t going to cause a scene in Harry’s office, but it took effort not to raise her voice and demand to be taken home. Owen was in the waiting room, and one call would get her out of here.

  “When my partners and I started Riverbend, our first priority was the level of care. That starts with our staff, so it doesn’t matter if you’re new to our clinic team or if you’ve been here from the beginning, you’re going to have experience. Kendra put Reagan with you because she’s the most qualified for the type of injury you sustained. She’s dealt with this injury before—only on the football field.” Harry sat again and moved her hands along Asher’s leg, molding the cast until she was satisfied. “I can’t force you, but think about it. The whole purpose of rehab is to get you back to where you need to be to compete. If you’re fighting your therapist the entire time, that’s the last thing that’ll happen.”

  “If I say no, then I’m the bad guy?” She laughed and made a fist with the hand in her lap.

  “No, if you pass, it makes you the patient. Patients in my practice get to decide what and who they want, and if Reagan isn’t going to make you comfortable, then we’ll get Kendra involved.” Harry seemed pleased with the cast and finally glanced up at her. “I know your timeline, Asher, so PT is going to be important to getting you back not only on your feet, but on a bull. There’s no way in hell I’m worried about you putting in the work because that’s a given. If anything, I worry about you overdoing, but to put you in the right frame of mind, I’m going to need you comfortable with your care.”

  “It’s okay, Harry. It’s PT, not a date. If you think she’s that good, then bring Reagan up to speed. All I need is for her to know why the timeline is important.” She relaxed her hand and tried to will herself into silence. “She’s not a fan of what I do, and she’s not been exactly shy about her opinions on the subject.”

  “Physical therapists don’t approve of a lot of the things their clients do. I have professional football players who need rehab for whatever happens to them on the field, and we do it. We do it with the full knowledge that when they’re able, they’ll be back on the field every Sunday where the chances of it happening again are high. That’s not our call to make, though.”

  “Let’s get the show on the road, then,” Asher said. “I’ve got two more weeks of forced relaxation, so I’ll take that time to wrap my head around all this.” She sat back on her hands and waited for Harry to send Reagan in. With any luck, it’d be Reagan who called it quits, and she could get Frida and every other busybody in her life off her ass.

  “Okay,” Harry said, slapping her hands together. “Beginning tomorrow, Reagan will start coming by to start your rehab.”

  “I thought I couldn’t put any weight on this, and you just put this spiffy cast on me.” This was a new one. The last time Harry put her through the paces of PT, it was for her shoulder after a rogue cow slammed into her. PT didn’t start, though, until she’d at least been out of the brace.

  “I also know you, so I know sitting on the sofa eating bonbons isn’t going to happen. Reagan’s going to be there to make sure your continuing upper-body work doesn’t interfere with your ankle recovery.” Harry pointed at her as if she could read her mind. “Two hours a day should do it to start. And if you put any weight on that foot before then, I’m admitting you and strapping you down.”

  “All right already, I get it.”

  “What time would you like to start?” Reagan asked as if she’d made up her mind to do this. “I can do mornings or afternoons, but I need to reschedule my clinic patients, so if you can let me know, I’d appreciate it.”

  “Whichever is the least amount of work for you. I’m not set on either, so make it easy on yourself.” She let go of some of her anger when Reagan stared at her as if trying to surmise if she was working an angle. This close she was reminded of how beautiful Reagan was. She had only gotten more so since she’d last seen her.

  “Thank you, Asher,” Reagan said. “I’ll see you at nine in the morning unless you want to start later.”

  “Nine it is.” She was ready to go and meditate away all the phantom itches going up and down her leg that couldn’t be scratched now. “Anything else, Harry?”

  “I’ll go over everything with Reagan, so call me if you need anything or have any questions. Remember, above all else, be good,” Harry said, shaking her hand then handing her a lollipop. “See you in two weeks.”

  She slid off the table and stood on her good foot until the nurse locked the wheelchair. The pain was manageable, and she tried to concentrate on her breathing to keep it that way. Now pain of another kind was going to blossom, and all she had to do to get rid of it was to get better. Once that happened, Reagan would go back to her life, and she could go back to hers. The two wouldn’t intersect after that.

  “You ready, boss?” Owen asked.

  “You have no idea.”

  * * *

  It was four thirty a.m., and Reagan knew there’d be no more sleep. “This completely sucks,” she said to the ceiling. The night before she’d sat outside with a glass of wine and a peanut butter sandwich. She’d found the small patio outside was the spot she felt the most comfortable talking to her father. So far it’d been a one-sided conversation.

  “You’ve been awful quiet, Daddy.” It wasn’t that she was a firm believer in ghosts coming back to give you advice, but an afternoon with her father would’ve been fantastic. Even if all she got to do was sit and look at him, she’d have been happy. “I could really use your advice before today really gets started. We can start by discussing what a bitch I’ve been.” She covered her face with her pillow and screamed into it. “Don’t say anything if you agree.” The quiet of the room made her scream into her pillow again.

  She didn’t need the ghost of her father to appear to know he’d agree with the assessment of her behavior. Not that he ever ignored her, because he didn’t, but his relationship with Asher had been special. It was something she remembered with fondness and love. They’d been so cute together especially as Asher got older and some of the idol worship had worn off. Then Asher had worked hard to earn her father’s respect, so he’d see her as a worthy partner for his only daughter.

  What Reagan had done wouldn’t have sat well with him. She hadn’t been raised to run away from her problems, and especially not to treat people with such cruelty. It hadn’t been her intent, but if she was honest, that’s exactly what she’d done.

  “Your silence means you’re probably giving me that face you’d hit me with when you were disappointed in me.” The knot in the beadboard on the ceiling she stared at didn’t come to life to disagree with her, so she went with that.

  She got up and took a long shower to clear her head. It was either shower therapy or start drinking, and it was way too early for that. There was still time to kill after she doubled her water bill, so she decided on a quick visit to the ranch to fortify her resolve. But her first stop was for coffee at the shop on the corner by her place, not to procrastinate, but to fool herself into thinking she wasn’t procrastinating.

  The drive to the east wasn’t bad, considering all the traffic was bottlenecked in the opposite direction despite the early hour. All the suburbanites coming into the city for work from their big homes on the other side of Lake Pontchartrain were choking four lanes, and she’d seen at least three accidents. Her appointment with Asher wasn’t for another couple of hours, which gave her time to live up to her promise to spend more time with Uncle Wade.

  The mist caused by the river being so close clung to the ground, giving the cows the appearance of floating on clouds in the fields. Morning had always been her favorite time on the ranch, especially when she’d ridden out with Asher to check fences or put out hay. They’d been young, but Asher was a great conversationist who loved talking about the books she’d read, and the dreams they shared. At eighteen, she could’ve listened to Asher for the rest of her life.

  One of the ranch hands pointed to the big barn closest to the house when she asked about her uncle, and she walked up to see Booker being led out of it. A large horse trailer that appeared nicer than her first apartment in college was standing open with a beautiful woman on the ramp.

  “Good morning.” Everyone turned around at her greeting, and she took a deep breath to keep from being instantly accusatory. “What’s going on with my horse?” So much for that. Maybe after work today she’d look into a charm school if those still existed.

  “Hey, sweetheart,” Uncle Wade said, kissing her on the forehead when they hugged. “Booker’s got a date with a handsome fella to see if they get along. If they do, Booker’s going to make you a grandma.”

  “Hi”—she held her hand out to the woman—“I’m Reagan Wilson.”

  “Sorry, I’m forgetting my manners,” Wade said. “Reagan, this is Helki Jaci. She’s the horse trainer over at Pemberley. Helki, Reagan’s my niece.”

  “It’s good to meet you,” Helki said, offering her hand. “I promise to take good care of her, and your foal will be beautiful. Booker will be right next door, so feel free to visit whenever you like.” Helki shook her hand again before overseeing Booker getting in the trailer. “We also have the best vet in the city on call, so if we can get her with foal, she’ll get the best of care.”

  “You okay?” Uncle Wade asked.

  “I’m fine, just wanted to stop and have coffee with you if you’re free.” She put her hand in the bend of his elbow and pulled him toward the house. “I have an appointment with Asher in a few hours.”

  “Do you now?” Uncle Wade gave her the small laugh that meant he was highly amused. “You remember that she’s a championship bull rider, right? You’re not going to try to hypnotize her into taking up knitting instead, are you?”

 

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