Never Kiss a Cowgirl, page 12
“Yes, I remember, and she got off lucky when that damn bull only got a hold of her ankle and thigh. And if I knew how to knit, I might give it a try, but it’s only PT. Believe me, I didn’t volunteer for this assignment, but her agreeing might mean she’ll work overtime to get rid of me as soon as possible.” There were ranch hands around saddling up for the day, and they all tipped their hats as they walked by.
“Buck would do that no matter who Basantes sends out here. If she’s actually letting you in the house, maybe you should start asking questions.” Wade put his arm around her shoulders and waved Helki off with the other hand. “Asher isn’t who you left behind, and she’s someone worth knowing.”
“The evidence points to her being the same person I knew way back when.” She reached up for his hand. “But I promise I’ll be good.”
Frida was in the kitchen whisking eggs and frying bacon when they entered. Some things never changed, starting with Asher and that Frida would be cooking bacon. “Sit—I hear you have plenty of time to eat.”
“Your spy network is still working, I see.” She went to her regular seat at the table and stuck her tongue out at Frida.
“Tread carefully, Buckaroo. She’s got plenty of knives back there, and I’d hate to have to run you to the emergency room before my second cup of coffee,” Uncle Wade said. “And remember one thing.”
“What’s that?” She thanked Frida when she put her plate down.
“You’re a Wilson, and Wilsons don’t go running scared.” He started eating after that, and they engaged in small talk until she had to go.
Not wanting to drive through the pastures, she rode back to the road and headed to Asher’s main gate. The black fence line was impressive, and she couldn’t really believe how much land Asher had been able to procure. Her spread was beautiful, and the animals looked amazing. It had been their fathers’ and her uncle’s philosophy all their lives—cows and horses were their business, so they had to be treated with respect. That strong belief had certainly carried into the next generation.
Another ranch hand pointed to the carport, and she gazed out at the big backyard, surprised to see Asher standing on one leg at the fence with her crutches leaning against it. The black horse lipping at her hair was gorgeous, and he seemed totally infatuated with Asher. It was almost as if he was kissing the top of her head. She smiled at the sight and the knowledge that Asher’s love affair with animals was something that hadn’t changed.
“Are you supposed to be out here?” she asked when she went out to meet her. She kept her voice calm, not wanting to spook either Asher or the horse. “And that’s one beautiful animal.”
“This is Albert,” Asher said, patting the big neck with affection.
“Albert? That doesn’t sound very horselike.” Albert stuck his tongue out at her as if he’d understood the slight.
“Albert Einstein Evans, since he’s pretty smart.” Asher held on to his neck when he lowered his head and placed it against her chest softly as if he understood she was hurt and he needed to be careful. “I was just giving him a pep talk since he’s got a date later. A couple, actually, so I want to make sure he understands he has to be a gentleman no matter what a stud he is.”
“Is Booker one of those dates?” She bent and grabbed an apple from the bucket at Asher’s feet. Even with the treat in her hand, Albert eyed her suspiciously. She would’ve sworn in court that Asher had trained him to do that.
“Booker and another gray mare we picked up last week. Albert’s pretty young, but Helki thinks he’s ready to enter the land of parenthood. We’ll see how he does, but you have my word I haven’t forgotten what Booker means to you.” Asher kissed the tip of his nose and pushed him back into the field. “Take a run and leave some of the buttercups for the ladies. They like that kind of stuff.”
Albert shook his head and danced a bit on his front legs but did as Asher asked. In motion he had be one of the most handsome animals Reagan had ever seen. She watched Asher studying his stride and could still make out the passion for the things she loved. That kind of devotion was hard to mask.
“Do you want anything before we begin?” Reagan asked, staying away from Asher and the crutches.
She walked next to Asher at her pace as they made their way back to the house, bypassing the kitchen for another door farther down the porch at the back. The workout room was impressive and as well-equipped as the clinic, so it would be easy to work from here. Asher sat at the weight bench and pointed to the chair ten feet from her.
“I’m good. What’s your plan?” Asher asked.
“Dr. Basantes wants you to continue with your upper-body work as long as you don’t put any weight on your foot as you make the circuit.” She did a quick inventory of the machines and figured it’d be easy to keep Asher engaged for the two hours Harry had in mind. “Once you’re done, I’ll set up a massage table and work on your legs. Increasing the blood flow to your lower extremities will promote healing.”
“Massage?” Asher stared at her as if she had no clue what she was talking about. “That’s not something that’s been part of my rehab routine before.”
“How many times have you had to have rehab?” If Asher was anything like her father, it had been a constant throughout her career. With that kind of experience as a patient, she wasn’t really necessary.
“Just twice for stuff that happened here,” Asher said as if Reagan’s thoughts were floating above her head in bright pink neon and dancing flamingos. “Cow got overexcited when we were moving them into the barn and butted my shoulder. The other was a stupid accident—my horse spooked when a snake snuck up on us. You know how it is here in the spring and summer.”
“This is your first accident in the arena?” It was hard to believe, but she’d never heard of Asher getting hurt before now. She’d never admit it, but she’d followed Asher’s career like Steph had for very different reasons.
“You probably don’t believe me, but no. I’m not careless or unaware of what could happen. The bull that did this”—Asher pointed to her foot—“was a momentary distraction that cost me.”
“You don’t owe me any explanations, Asher.” Eventually she’d have to find a way to apologize and make Asher believe in her sincerity. That wouldn’t be today. Asher’s walls were too high and thick.
“You’re right I don’t, but if we come at this from different points of view it’s not going to work. Right now, I’m in first place in the standings, and I plan to be back on the circuit as soon as I possibly can.” Asher held her hand up when she opened her mouth. “If you can’t accept that, then thank you for your time. You can go.”
“I’m a professional, Asher, and I’m not here to judge you.”
“No, you’ve already done that.” Asher had a way of talking with no emotion that Reagan didn’t like. The flat delivery was a clear message that she didn’t matter any longer. She’d hurt Asher, Asher had healed, and the scar that remained was thick and impenetrable.
“Let’s get started, and you’ll see that it’s all about the job.”
That was the biggest lie she’d ever told Asher. It came right after telling her that she didn’t love her, and she wanted nothing to do with her. She was back, though, and if it took doing something she didn’t necessarily believe in, then she’d do it. Now that she was this close to Asher again, all she wanted was to put things right. It was the only way to move forward, to forgive herself and free herself of her mistakes. Once that was possible, she could find some semblance of happiness.
What form that happiness would take was a mystery to her. It had to be better than what her life was now, so she’d deal with the aftermath when it finally came.
Chapter Ten
Asher spent the next week working out with Reagan in the mornings and riding out to the barn site in the afternoons. The cement floor was poured and curing, and the pasture was starting to green with the new grass her hands had planted. Her plans were starting to come together, and she was disappointed she wasn’t more involved in the work. That was going to have to wait since there was another week to go of crutches and no weight-bearing.
Every morning, she tolerated Reagan’s hands on her. Their conversations had been short and centered on therapy, but for those minutes when Reagan touched her, she closed her eyes and tried her best to think of something else. It wasn’t that hard. She had experience listing all the reasons this woman wasn’t someone worth her time. Remaining apathetic was the best course of action.
When Reagan left for the weekend with a quiet good-bye, Asher needed to get out of what was familiar. There was a restlessness in her that would only build into wanting to peel her skin off if she didn’t get out, so she showered and got dressed. New scenery would reset her mindset and stop the loop of aggravation she was stuck in. Forced convalescence wasn’t something she’d ever taken well, and this time it came with an obstacle course of problems.
She’d had to argue the point, but she sent Rickie home early and told her to forget about dinner. Two of the hands drove her into the French Quarter, having taken her up on her offer to have dinner at the sports bar they liked. They dropped her off at the Royal Sonesta Hotel on Bourbon Street.
Restaurant R’evolution was one of her favorite places to sit and read as the kitchen staff performed a synchronized dance easily visible from the dining room. The chef’s table wasn’t as grand as the one in Keegan Blanchard’s kitchen, but the chaos and noise of this place was an easy way to get lost in a crowd. Anonymity wasn’t such a dirty word sometimes.
“Hey, Asher,” the waiter said, holding his hand out. “What can I get you?”
“Cinclaire small batch neat.” She didn’t drink alone often, but Silas had taught her a good bourbon every now and then could cheer up the dead. She propped her foot on an empty chair and took out the breeding book she’d started the day before. Helki had made the entries and was waiting on her approval before moving forward. Having a horse breeding program hadn’t been in her plans, but having Helki run it with the guarantee they’d make money made it an easy sell. It was also more challenging than cows, so it could be fun if they grew it.
And then a voice made her glance up to see one of the sous-chefs place something in the brick oven. That’s all she was willing to concentrate on, because turning around wasn’t going to happen. “Fuck.” The word exploded in her head, but she took a deep breath and kept her eyes on the brick oven.
There were bad days, and then there were days you wanted to press fast forward and put them in your done category. Reagan’s voice had a distinct quality to it, and she’d recognize it even in hell. If she was half a poet, she’d say it was imprinted on her soul, but now it was like a bad rash that irritated the inside of her skull. The waiter put her glass down and took her order.
She was tempted to leave, but she wouldn’t be run off from the places she enjoyed because Reagan had decided to crash her town. She also wasn’t going to turn around and make herself known as the pathetic loner who read books about horses while nursing a drink. It turned out she didn’t have to turn to see Reagan and her date from the first night they’d run into each other. They were four tables over in the corner. The only lucky thing was that Reagan’s back was to her, but she could see from the back of Reagan’s outfit that she wasn’t in the scrubs she wore every day when she came to the house. Nope, this was more date-wear.
The woman with Reagan wore another great suit and was talking with her hands like whatever was coming out of her mouth was the most fascinating thing ever told. “I thought that was you.” Gia startled her when she hugged her from behind and whispered into her ear. “Are you supposed to be out drinking and reading about horse sex in public?” Gia moved around her so she could squeeze her face and kiss her on the lips.
“Albert has a much better sex life than I do, considering it has to be recorded for posterity. And it’s only one drink and dinner.” She put the ledger to the side and smiled.
“Cry me a bayou, sweet pea. You know there are plenty of women, including me”—Gia pointed to her chest—“that’ll date you. That can start tonight if you want to join me.” Gia held her hand as she sat to her right.
“Are you wining and dining, or wooing?” Gia had been fun and was still a good friend, but their dating history was done.
“I got a call from some clients who read the article about your house and want to hire me, so thank you for that. Now tell me, who are you spying on?” Gia picked up her glass and took a sip. Boundaries had never been Gia’s thing. “You’re being super covert, so you’re either watching someone or I have a bug on the top of my head and you’re afraid to tell me.”
“I’m not spying on anyone. I came out tonight for a bowl of Death by Gumbo and some veal with a sinful amount of crabmeat on it.” She spoke softly, not wanting to draw attention to them. “It was one of those nights when I had to get out of the house or start howling at the moon.”
“So those two women in the corner aren’t of interest to you?” Gia discreetly pointed in their direction. “I don’t know the blonde in the killer dress, but the other one is Steph Delmonico. Graduated from Tulane Law and moved to Seattle after graduation but is back as the star of a firm in the city that specializes in corporate shit.”
“Is corporate shit a thing?” She had to laugh at Gia’s vivid descriptions of things. She did have the tea on most topics, though. That was a new bit of slang Rickie had introduced her to, then had to explain it meant having gossip and not in fact tea in a glass with lemon.
“People like Ms. Delmonico help the rich stay rich and keep the little guy under their heel. Tell me she’s not a friend of yours.” The waiter came back and delivered another drink when Gia lifted her hand. “She’s a real bitch who takes pleasure in the kill.”
Asher drained her glass and shook her head. When Reagan had said they were no longer compatible, she had no idea her new type would be this. “I really am an idiot.”
“That’s the last thing you are, and that”—Gia pointed to Reagan’s back—“is not who she brought as her date to the young leadership group I belong to. The woman with her then was a media consultant, I think, and Delmonico introduced her as her girlfriend.” Gia tapped her chin with her index finger. “That she’s here with someone else means she’s not just an asshole in court.”
“There’s a couple waving at you from the door,” Asher said, tipping her head in that direction. “Go wow your clients and offer them a tour of the house if that’ll seal the deal for you.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to come sit with us?” Gia squeezed her fingers.
“I’ll be okay. Enjoy dinner and I’ll see you soon.”
“You’re the best, good-looking.” Gia kissed her again and followed the older couple to a table.
She accepted another drink and knew it would be her last. She didn’t need to get tipsy and fall, breaking her other leg. Her horse book had lost its appeal, so she reached into her coat pocket to get the small book her old English professor had given her. The Divine Comedy wasn’t exactly light reading, but sometimes you had to go through other people’s hell to make your own seem not as catastrophic.
She’d fallen in love with the poem in college after reading the line from Purgatorio that she tried to live by in life: If the present world go astray, the cause is in you, in you it is to be sought.
Her life and everything in it existed because of the choices she made. That’s what she’d taken from that line. She couldn’t blame anyone else if the landscape wasn’t all rainbows and sunshine.
As she thought about those lines, she realized that was the only reason she’d stuffed the book in her pocket. It was a reminder of what was important to her. The truth of who she was didn’t revolve around her mistakes, her triumphs, or the woman who’d broken her. That truth lay in how she lived up to the ideal set by the three most important men in her life. Character couldn’t be bought or polished back to perfect, her father had told her often. It was something you had until you didn’t, so you had to take care of it. She’d lived that as best she could, making sure to be true to the foundation of what made her, well, her.
“Asher,” Reagan said softly as if not to startle her, “I’m sorry I didn’t see you. Are you okay?”
“Do I look not okay?” She made a mental note to calm her fingers before the tapping on her glass could be interpreted as nervousness. That would only project weakness, and she wasn’t about to give Reagan the satisfaction.
“No, not at all. I’m just surprised to see you here. Are you alone?” Reagan glanced in Gia’s direction, and her face was unreadable. The woman Gia had identified as Steph Delmonico was staring at them like the cure to cancer and dancing girls would be the prize for figuring out what the hell was going on.
“I am, and I don’t want to keep you.” Her fingers, the traitorous bastards, were tapping on the glass hard enough for her to hear it. “I’ll see you in a couple days, so feel free to have a late night or a great weekend. We’ve been through the routine often enough that I don’t mind going it alone if you want some time off.”
“You’re not keeping me from anything, and there’s no reason for you to be sitting alone. Why don’t you join us?” Reagan sat on the edge of her seat as if waiting for some rude dismissal.
“That’s okay. Being alone doesn’t bother me. This is more about getting out for a bit and giving Rickie a break from all my problems. She’s getting ready for finals, so I thought I’d give her time to study. I didn’t mean to interrupt your date.” She didn’t want to be completely rude, and with effort she made the corners of her mouth lift in a smile. It felt like there were weights tied to her lips, but she did it.
