Never Kiss a Cowgirl, page 13
“Steph is a friend, not my date.” Reagan placed her hands on her lap and sighed. It was like she was trying to not show any emotion herself.
The wall between them and the emotion that was thick enough to be visible like smog were more tiring than ranch work, so she sighed herself. “If you want, invite your friend to move over here. I’m not sure if you’ve ordered, but the chef loves to feed you if you’re trusting.”
“Are you sure?” Reagan stared at her as if trying to see if she was being set up.
She had to laugh at that because she was anything but sure. “Believe it or not, I’m not your enemy, I don’t hate you, and I can be mature when called for. If a meal proves that, then let’s have dinner, the three of us.”
Reagan finally smiled as if she meant it. “I don’t think I’ve heard you laugh since I got home.” It surprised Asher when Reagan’s eyes got glassy. Those tears had made her do plenty when they appeared—all except change one fundamental thing about herself. They’d been so sure when they were each other’s whole world, but she couldn’t change everything about herself to make someone happy. That was true, even if the person she was disappointing was Reagan Wilson.
“There hasn’t been much to laugh about lately, but then I remember that life is that much longer if you learn to not take things so seriously.” She pushed aside her empty glass and reached for the ice water. “Tonight, I remembered that we’re both free to be happy about different things. That’s normal, and there’s no harm in it.”
“Daddy used to say that all the time, and I think I forgot that myself.” A few of Reagan’s tears fell, and it was hard not to reach out and wipe them away. “You’re never going to forgive me, are you?”
“What exactly do you want me to forgive you for?” It was puzzling that Reagan would be interested in that now. They’d been together alone for days, and she’d barely said anything, so of course a busy restaurant would be the perfect spot for this conversation.
Reagan opened her mouth a few times before shaking her head. “I hurt you, and I am sorry even if you don’t believe me. What I did…the way I acted—”
“Please stop.” She reached over and placed her hand on Reagan’s forearm. “It’s not necessary. You might not believe me, but you don’t have to apologize for doing what you thought was best for you. There’s no law that says you have to end up with the first person you kissed.”
That made Reagan snort. “If Silas Wilson was alive, I doubt he’d agree with you.”
“Uncle Wade tells me all the time that shit has a way of working itself out. It doesn’t need a lot of input from us, so forget about it.” She pointed to the woman still watching them from the corner. “Call your friend over, and let me prove there’s no hard feelings.”
“You’ve gotten better about telling white lies. You never could before without giving yourself away,” Reagan said when she stood. “Thank you, though, for not shutting me completely out.”
“I’m not that complicated, and tonight is just about dinner.” Her appetizer arrived as Reagan walked off.
The ramifications of having to spend the night entertaining Reagan and her girlfriend made her lose her appetite. Perhaps Dante was right, and the path to paradise began in hell. Tonight could be defined as hell, but if she could truly learn to see Reagan and who she’d become, it could lead her down the path of letting go. Paradise, hers at least, could be defined as leaving Reagan where she belonged—in her past.
Chapter Eleven
“Are you serious?” Steph asked when Reagan got back to their table.
Reagan had been upset with herself for accepting Steph’s invitation from the moment she’d said yes. It was time to cut ties and get on with the rest of her life, but the silence had a way of making her weak. Weak enough to say yes when she really just wanted to wish Steph away like a bad dream. They were never getting back together no matter how many dinners they had.
“We can stay here.” She stood next to their table and wished for guidance. Nothing seemed like a good choice given the ones she had. “But she invited us.”
Steph was up and handing her purse over as if not giving her a chance to change her mind. “Let’s go, then.”
“Unbelievable.” There was Steph the successful attorney, and then there was the fangirl who couldn’t resist the opportunity to sit with one of her idols. “Asher, this is Steph Delmonico. Steph, Asher Evans.”
“It’s great to meet you,” Steph said, shaking Asher’s hand so hard it shook the table. “I’m a big fan.”
“Thank you,” Asher said, sounding as if it took effort to form simple words. “I’m not sure you’ve ordered, but I can sign you up for the chef table experience.”
“Thanks,” Reagan said. She’d owe Asher big for this. Her old friend wasn’t the type to suffer someone like Steph without major heartburn. “That sounds lovely.”
Steph seemed about to start bouncing in her seat, and Asher was nice enough to engage her. “What is it you do, Steph? It seems only fair to ask since Reagan tells me you’re a rodeo fan.”
“I’m a corporate attorney,” Steph said, and Asher glanced across the room toward the woman Reagan had seen at Asher’s table. From their greeting earlier it seemed they were old friends and maybe more. “I moved back to New Orleans to concentrate on oil and gas litigation.”
“How’d you two meet?” Asher put her foot and her book down when more dishes were placed on the table. The Divine Comedy as Asher’s dinner read of choice would not have been Reagan’s final answer on Final Jeopardy. This was like a parallel universe where everything was upside down.
“I bought her a drink one night,” Steph said and laughed. “We hit it off, started dating, and ended up moving here together.”
“Where’d you move from?” Asher would’ve made a good detective. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Not at all. I doubt our lives are very exciting, but Reagan and I met in Seattle. It was fate that we were moving at the same time to the same place. I was glad to have her while I started over here.”
If there was a way to stuff a piece of bread in Steph’s mouth and not kill her, Reagan would’ve done it to get her to stop talking. The way Asher scratched the tablecloth with her index finger made her think it’d rip. That was her response to Steph too, but what she didn’t understand was why Asher was upset.
“She found the cutest place here,” Steph said, finishing her report on all things Reagan. “It’s a great location for work, and Reagan did a great job decorating.”
“Sounds like it was fate, and a place you can make your own. Both of you, I mean.” Asher shoved a bite of food in her mouth as if to keep from saying anything else.
“Steph doesn’t live with me,” Reagan said, needing to clarify that. Like she did in court, Steph had a way of weaving a story that wasn’t necessarily true.
“Do you mind me asking about the rodeo?” Steph for once guided the conversation in the right direction. “Reagan tells me I was the only fan in the state of Washington, but I fell in love with it, growing up in Louisiana. I never got to see her dad, but you I’ve followed from the beginning of your career.”
“Sure and thanks.” Asher’s face went from no emotion to a bit of a smirk. “What would you like to know?”
“What’s it like?” Steph appeared almost childlike when she asked. “That’s the one thing that’s always fascinated me, and no one’s ever given a good answer.”
“Growing up, I watched my uncle Silas ride, and I wondered the same thing,” Asher said, and Reagan suddenly couldn’t wait for this answer.
“Can you share it with us?” Steph asked. “I mean, your experience or if he told you his.”
Steph was right—no one ever gave a satisfactory answer as to the why of it. Not even her father could articulate that. She doubted she’d suddenly fall in love with the sport or accept it from one answer, but it was something to consider. “I can only speak for myself and my first time.”
“Only the first time?” Steph was persistent.
“The first time defined all the rides that followed.” Asher kept her gaze on Reagan even though she was answering Steph. “When the chute opened, it was so many things at once. It was violent, jarring, and terrifying.” That was so true and why Reagan hated that people she loved would even think about doing it. “But it was mesmerizing.”
Reagan sat quietly, thinking that she’d never heard Asher sound so open and poetic. This was what she hadn’t given her a chance to say when they parted—the why of why Asher wanted to follow her father into something she so vehemently detested.
“It is that,” Steph said “That’s why I’ve never been able to look away, from the first time my dad took me to my first rodeo in Baton Rouge.”
“I don’t do it to prove anything to anyone,” Asher said, still staring right at her. “Uncle Silas was the only person I saw that made it look like an effortless thing. It’s why his championship score has never been replicated.”
“But what’s it like?” Steph tried again.
“You’ve never heard a good answer to that because there isn’t one. It’s personal to every rider. That one thing that makes it yours.”
It was no answer, and she knew Asher did have the right words, but she wasn’t going to share them with her and Steph. They didn’t deserve to know, and they’d have to be happy with the little she did share. She put her hand on Steph’s thigh, hoping she was smart enough to not ask anything else. The rest of dinner was like trying to find something to say, and Steph for once saved them all by telling them about her ongoing case.
It was enough to suck up the next hour and the four courses the waiters delivered. “Thanks for everything,” Reagan said as Asher signed the bill. That Asher asked intelligent questions as Steph went on about her favorite subject was surprising since she doubted Asher cared one way or another. Asher had done it to be kind, and she was grateful her old friend was so generous when she’d been anything but.
“You’re welcome—it was nice to have company.” Yes, Asher had gotten better at the white lies. “It was nice meeting you, Steph.”
“Trust me, the honor was mine. I don’t usually go all fangirl, but I really have followed your career from the very beginning. I’m really sorry this happened to you now. This was your year.”
“Thanks.” Asher stood and seated her crutches. She’d texted someone and Reagan figured it was her ride. “Have a great rest of your night.”
There were a few people who stood and talked to Asher as she left. It proved one important thing to Reagan, something that had never occurred to her. She’d left a tall skinny kid years before who wanted nothing more than to be like her father and her own. It had been Asher’s goal to be honorable, hardworking, and loyal above all else. Asher was that, but the years had polished her like a stone tumbled by a violent river until she’d become this person who was interesting and social in a way that made people successful in business.
“I have to say, I never expected her to be that put together,” Steph said, and Reagan resented her for polluting her thoughts with words.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“She’s not exactly the mindless cowpoke, is she?” Steph handed over her valet ticket and slipped her hands into her pockets. “You can get mad at me now, but I dug a little into her. That question I asked at first—she’s the only person I ever wanted the answer from. You grew up with the rodeo and all the ranch stuff, but I’ve always wanted to know what groomed her into becoming someone who makes magic on the back of a bull. It doesn’t sound right to call it magic, but that’s what it is.”
“What exactly did you look up?” At any other time she would’ve been pissed, but the answers were more important because she’d never get the answers from Asher.
“Your ex is, at the moment, despite the injury, the number one bull rider in the world.” Steph opened the door for her and gave the valet a tip. “She also owns a ton of real estate, not buildings but empty raw land that she’s amassed an acre at a time, and she’s almost finished what will make it worth a fortune. Asher Evans is a different animal, and I found her totally charming.”
“Cows and land are all ranchers know. How much it costs and how they get it almost doesn’t matter. It’s not a business,” she said barely above a whisper staring out the window. The buildings of the Quarter were, as always, perfect in their imperfections. Their age and wear were what made them special, different than anything else in the country. They were unique and one of the reasons she loved this place, but tonight they were a blur. “It’s a passion, and the money doesn’t matter. Only the animals and the way of life matter.”
“I understand that. We’re friends, and I didn’t grow up in the same kind of place you did, but I think I understand better than you.” Steph stopped at the light on Canal Street and finally turned her head to look at her. “There’s more, but you’re going to have to find it on your own. All I mean is, when I read about her, I thought I’d like her, and I was right.”
Steph stopped in front of her place but made no move to get out of the car. “Thanks for the invite.” Reagan placed her hand on the door handle and glanced back. “Would you like a drink?”
“I think it’s best if I go. Thanks for coming at the last minute.” Steph didn’t appear tempted even if it was Reagan offering this time. “I realize I’m an asshole, but I don’t like eating alone.”
“Not the night either of us planned, but I guess we both learned something.” She didn’t repeat the offer, and Steph waited until she was inside before driving away. Once she closed the door, she fell back and cocked her head back against it. In a city that very seldom slept, she’d never felt more alone. “Could I get any more depressing.”
She hung her dress over a chair and debated putting on her pajamas. It didn’t take much to convince her to put on jeans and grab her keys. The drive was different at night, but the traffic pattern was the same. People who were headed back across the lake were home by now, and only the people headed for some fun in the city were stuck in the opposite lanes.
The road toward her uncle’s house veered to the spot she wanted, and the cows she could see were grouped together under a tree. With the window down she could smell the rain in the air. People might’ve thought that was a myth, but she—and the cows—could tell. In the distance she could see the levee and the four-wheeler parked at the top. So much for not putting any weight on her foot for another week. Asher might be way different now, but in many ways, she was still the same.
“Are you breaking the rules?” She sat on the slope at the edge of the blanket Asher had put out.
“I didn’t run here, so I’m not sure what you mean.” Asher had changed into jeans as well, and the white T-shirt was tight at her biceps. “Is this some new round-the-clock service you’re providing?”
“I couldn’t sleep.” She lay back and closed her eyes. Now she could sleep and couldn’t help the yawn. “But maybe I should’ve given it a few minutes.”
“The mosquitos will carry you away if you try that here.” Asher seemed almost welcoming, but she did have a talent for convincing herself of things that weren’t always true.
“Will you tell me about them?” She pointed over her shoulder.
“The cows?” Asher turned her head, and that dark hair made Reagan’s breath catch. God, how she’d loved running her fingers through that hair. “They’re a gamble that paid off.”
“You don’t like answering questions, do you?” She smiled at the bemused expression on Asher’s face.
Asher shrugged and didn’t lose her smile. “I don’t want to bore you, and you’ve never struck me as being interested in cows.”
“How about for the next hour we call a truce and pretend I’m interested in all things bovine.” She put her hands at her sides and sighed.
“The big cows you mentioned are beef cows, and the Oreo cows are dairy. I know we never raised dairy cows when we were growing up, but I want to be more than just beef.” The stalk of grass in Asher’s mouth was a habit she’d had since they were children. “I started small and add to the herd every year to diversify the stock for breeding. Once the barn is finished, we’ll be producing organic milk with a high fat content.” Asher rattled off the information, and Reagan could almost make out her contained excitement.
“Is all the black fenced land yours?”
“Yes, I needed the acreage to keep growing, and this is something I believe in, so I didn’t mind the work I had to put in to make it a reality. People thought I was nuts, including Uncle Wade, but I wanted to try new things. At least new things in the realm of what I know.” Asher had the kind of voice that weaved into your head and lulled you into agreement. It was like the sound held some superpower to make you want to please her.
Reagan sat up and rested her weight on her elbows. The river was moving as always, but the summer water levels were always lower than the rest of the year. She had memories of walking out quite a ways when she was younger, holding Asher’s hand the entire time. Those were the days she had every belief that Asher not only loved her but would keep her safe from anything that could harm her. She didn’t realize she was crying until Asher ran her fingers along her cheek.
There was coming home, and then there was this. “Sorry,” she said, not backing away.
“I didn’t think you felt so strongly about cows,” Asher said and smiled.
“You’re such an asshole sometimes.” She swatted at Asher’s shoulder and laughed as she kept crying. “I was thinking of when we used to walk out there.”
“We’ve got a few more weeks before you can try it. The rains this year have kept the levels up.” Asher’s voice seemed to fade. “You should know, you’ve been back awhile.”
“I have.” It was all she could admit to.
