When Love Comes Knocking, page 1
WHEN LOVE COMES KNOCKING
BARE RIDGE
BOOK 1
B.D. STOREY
Copyright © 2023 by B.D. Storey
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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INTRODUCTION
Welcome to the first book in the new Bare Ridge series! All of my author friends and the courses I’ve worked through all tell me that readers want a series. So, I’ve finally listened and Bare Ridge is my first attempt at providing that series to you, dear readers.
I currently have four books planned in the world of Bare Ridge. While they can be enjoyed as stand-alone, they’re best enjoyed in order of publication, as you’ll see many of the same characters in each book and there may be spoilers if you jump ahead.
Bare Ridge is a fictional small town set in the foothills west of Monument, Colorado. Aside from the town itself, most of the specific surrounding locations you will read about are actual places.
To stay up-to-date on the rest of the Bare Ridge series, and in the loop on everything else I’m working on, make sure to sign up for my newsletter at my website, as well as giving my Facebook, Goodreads, TikTok, and Instagram sites a follow!
Bob
Website:
https://BDStorey.com
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This is where I get to thank all the great folks who helped me get this book out to you, the readers.
First and foremost, my wife Pam, the force behind the author. She pushes me to write and gives me that ‘what were you thinking’ look when I run a plot or scene by her. She is always the first to read the draft, the first to help me flesh out scenes and imagery, the first to tell me to “try again.” Love ya, Pam.
The next group to thank are those who did the beta reading. Big shout out to Robin Maguire, a friend and fellow gamer for going on twenty-two years (or longer). Even though she gets mad at me for making her cry, she’s quick to point out plot issues and grammar mistakes. Thanks, Robineva!
To Tori Linville Hopper, a veteran beta reader for me now. She is going to beat the proper use of the word ‘had’ into my thick head one of these days. I promise you Tori, I am trying to learn. Any mistakes readers find are all on me.
Thanks go out to my coworker and new beta reader, Cindy Silver. She was a big fan of my first book and eagerly jumped on the bandwagon to provide a scrubbing of this story. She pushed me to include more backstory to flesh out some of the supporting characters.
The amazing cover was developed by Elizabeth Mackey. I couldn’t be more pleased with what she created for my story. You can see more of her work at https://www.elizabethmackeygraphics.com/
As usual, someone had to wade through the nouns, verbs, and adverbs to make sure it all made sense. That fell to the editors at Dragon Realm press. If you need their services, you can go here: http://www.dragonrealmpress.com/
Also, a shameless plug for Fargo's Pizza Company in downtown Colorado Springs. Great pizza served in an awesome and fun setting. I make it a point to go to Fargo’s every time I’m in the Springs. www.fargospizza.com
And last but not least, my thanks to all the readers who took a chance on me. I hope I provided you with a few hours of entertainment and that you found yourself ready to read more! I appreciate you!
Thanks,
Bob
CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by B.D. Storey
Sneak Peek
PROLOGUE
The old wooden porch swing creaked comfortably as I slowly rocked, staring at the papers in my hand. I tried to come up with some feeling with regard to the small stack of documents that I held, but nothing came. I was numb. I let my hand drop back to my lap, the bundle of papers slipping from my fingers and fluttering down to the dirty porch.
I let my gaze travel out across the yard and trees, and then up into the clear evening sky. The stars were so bright they almost overshadowed the moon. I felt like I could reach up and pluck them right out of the sky.
I could hear soft nickers from the barn and side pastures out behind the house. Like most animals at this late hour, or early, depending on your viewpoint, sleep was for some, but there were always one or two horses awake, herd instincts ensuring that someone was always awake and protecting the others.
A shadow flicked across my vision. I turned my eyes just enough to catch a large, winged presence gliding through the still night. Must be Owen. It was a silly name for a barn owl, but he and I had an easy truce now. I stayed away from his corner of the barn loft, and, in return, he kept the barn area reasonably free from field mice and didn’t rip my face off.
I glanced down at the papers scattered on the porch.
Dissolution of Marriage.
Seemed like such a cold and legal statement, but I guess that was what it needed to be when those words signaled the death of a marriage and the love it contained.
Normally, when something dies, there’s a reason or cause. Trauma, illness, some tragic reason. In this case, nothing. When I got back from Ft. Collins five months ago, my wife of almost two years, Julia, was gone. No note, no message. Nothing. Her closet and drawers were empty. Anything that was hers was gone. Mom had been away visiting her sister and my barn manager, John, was out checking the back pastures and never saw her leave.
I tried to get in touch with her multiple times a day for a month. I needed to find out what was going on. Her cell was disconnected, and her family shut me out. I’d driven to her parent’s place in Denver but couldn’t get past the security at the entrance to their gated community. When I told the rent-a-cop at the gate I wasn’t leaving until I spoke to Julia, the real cops were called. That resulted in a restraining order preventing me from being anywhere within 500 feet of Julia, her parents, their home, or their place of business.
The divorce papers showed up the day after I was served the restraining order, a one-two punch. Her parents were well-off, and they’d apparently bought some fast talent. Their lawyer drove his black Mercedes to the farm and politely told me that all future contact would be through him.
I never saw Julia again.
After examining the papers, my lawyer advised me to just sign. Colorado was a no-fault state. Julia didn't ask for anything. She just wanted out of the marriage. Finally, after yet another meeting with her lawyer, where he again denied my request for a meeting with her, he informed me that if I did not sign the papers, Julia would re-file paperwork and go after everything, including 50% of everything associated with my family’s business. This would be in addition to alimony.
I was shocked. The Julia I knew would have never been that cold-hearted.
So I signed. And today, months later, my copy of the final paperwork arrived in the mail.
I slowly rocked and gazed out at the night sky. I didn’t stop the tears as they fell. Until this moment, I’d held out a sliver of hope that some miracle would happen and that Julia would change her mind. She would come back, and we would have hours of makeup sex, laugh, and move on with our life together.
Owen hooted off in the distance as a Julia-sized hole in my heart—held together with hope—ripped open.
ONE
Two years later
“Walk her back up to the front,” I said, motioning toward the front of the walkway.
Jason turned the mare around and led her back the way he had just come. The ailing horse plodded back up the packed-dirt floor, head slightly down. It wasn’t pronounced, but I could see that she favored her left front foot as she walked.
“Hold up,” I said, approaching the mare as Jason stopped.
I ran my hand over her left shoulder a few times and then let it drop down her leg, just above her hoof.
The mare, Bonnie, dropped her head down and started nipping at my hat. I heard the buckles clink as Jason gave her a gentle tug to bring her head back up before she got a good lock on my haberdashery.
“Easy girl,” I crooned, letting my hand lightly grip just below her fetlock.
While not hot, the skin was warmer than the rest of her leg. I applied a bit more pressure, moving my fingers around till I felt the vein and I could feel a strong, steady pulse.
I stood up and moved around Jason to the other side. A repeat of my examination found no real issue in that leg.
“When did Mrs. Green turn-out Bonnie?” I queried as I stood back up, rubbing the bay mare’s neck and reaching up to scratch behind her ear.
“She came by on Monday around three. I’d just finished checking Blackie and was heading back to the office when I ran into her and her son,” he replied. “We chatted a bit, and she mentioned letting Bonnie out to one of the side pastures for a bit. I told her to go ahead, but to put her back up before they left for t he day.”
Today was Saturday. The mare had been out eating fresh, green, sugar-filled grass for almost a week after being on hay and feed for the winter months. The same horse that had almost gone lame last year appeared to be on her way again.
“You sure you told her to put her back up?” I asked, looking at him.
He nodded curtly. “Sure did, Jake.”
“Rules still up on the barn board?” I asked, running my hand alongside Bonnie’s neck, keeping contact with her as she snuffled my pockets, looking for a hopefully hidden treat.
“Yep. Check’em each morning, make sure no one’s wiped them off or drew any more horse heads on it,” he said, chuckling at the memory of some of our younger horse enthusiasts' artwork.
The barn board was an old dry-erase board that was kept at the entrance to the stall area. On it, we kept a list of which stalls had which horse, any special feed instructions, vet visits, and a general set of barn rules. One of the current rules that was underlined was to not leave your stall-boarded horse out for more than thirty minutes a time during the spring green up. The rule was there for the very reason I had in front of me now.
I patted the mare one last time. The thought dashed through my mind that some folks should not be allowed to own horses.
“Okay, put her back in her stall. Triple layer of shavings. I want to keep as much of the pressure off her feet as possible. I’ll talk to Janice Green and remind her yet again why we don’t turn stalled horses out on fresh new grass and forget them. Good job spotting it early. I can feel a strong pulse and her left leg is really warm. Right feels okay so far, but I bet it isn't far behind. Another few days and she might have foundered on us.”
“Right. Any Bute or other meds?” he asked.
I just shook my head. “No, I think she just needs to rest it and stay off the grass until we can ease her into it.”
“Right, boss,” he replied.
He clicked at the mare and started leading her away.
I shook my head and headed back out of the barn and toward the house. Most of our boarders were experienced horse owners. Every so often, we’d get one or two who were just in love with the idea of having a horse and cared little about learning how to take care of that horse. Janice Green was one of those. She paid someone to do the stall clean-up for her mare, only making it out to the barn for the mandatory twice-a-month check-in that was set out in our boarding contract.
A few steps along the gravel pathway, sounds drew my attention to the practice ring off to my left. A quick glance confirmed it was Kathi Harrison, back from her month-long stay in Florida, working with one of her geldings.
Kathi was one of the owners who took horses seriously. She had boarded horses at my parent’s place since I was a young kid. Her husband died from a heart attack about seven years ago. A corporate wheeler and dealer, he’d also been a workaholic, doing everything needed to grow and advance his company. I could count on my fingers the number of times I had ever seen him at the barn. Seems his work never left him much time to spend with Kathi either, if I was to believe my mom’s gossip.
As her husband began working more, Kathi found herself with an abundance of time and money. Her love of horses eventually led Kathi into the hunter/jumper world, more specifically, the jumper side. She’d spent thousands of dollars on top-of-the-line horses and lessons, making good use of hubby’s money. She rode well and started to make a name for herself in the local shows.
When her husband died, she lost all interest in jumping. Financially, according to Mom, she had been set for the rest of her life. She was still involved with his business. She was in charge of overseeing the charitable and community functions that the company supported, all with the purpose of helping people or supporting others that were helping people.
But losing her husband caused some small part of the fire in Kathi to go out. She sold off all her horses except for two older geldings. When Julia left me, Kathi had been the one to help me recover the most. She and I would take rides through the property or just sit and talk. Mom and Nikki helped as well, but it had been Kathi that had pulled me up and dusted me off. I’m not sure what I would have done if it had not been for her.
I watched as she put Ringo through his paces. Kathi had studied some of the master players in the world of horse training, and she applied their teachings religiously. She had a lunge line on Ringo as he trotted around the ring. She had a small stick whip in her other hand, but she rarely used it. I firmly believed she could drop the lead and stick and make Ringo do whatever she needed just by hand and verbal signals.
I also watched Kathi. Her attention was focused on Ringo, watching each step and every shift of his muscles. She knew I was watching, but made no move to acknowledge or talk to me.
Kathi had been what many called a ‘trophy wife.’ She married her husband, Jeremy, right out of college when he was one of the up-and-coming managers at his family business. She had been stunning then, but at forty was still a head-turner who could be easily confused for thirty-one or thirty-two. Mom was always kidding with her about finding some young stud and enjoying life a little.
In the ring, Kathi brought Ringo to a stop and glanced at me, a small smile on her face.
“Looking good, Kathi.” I returned her smile.
She turned to face me. “You looking at my ass again, Jake?”
I raised my eyebrows, tilting my head toward her. “Well, while I do have to admit it’s a good view, I was really watching Ringo.”
I grinned as she clutched at her chest, a sarcastic, pained look spreading across her face. “Not sure my pride can take that kind of rejection,” she said.
We both laughed easily as she led Ringo out of the ring and over to where I was standing. Ringo pushed his nose at me. I laughed and rubbed his head, moving up and scratching the backs of his ears.
I started to say something to Kathi as she came around Ringo's head, but before I could speak, she stepped in close and placed her hand on my chest.
“I’m sorry to hear about Brandy. Not so sorry about John, however,” she said.
My body stiffened at the mention of my ex-girlfriend and my former barn manager. Brandy had been the first girl I dated since my divorce. The breakup had been painful and public. John’s betrayal was a mess all unto itself.
Those memories were still too raw, so I just nodded, not trusting my voice.
She patted my chest softly. “It may not seem like it now, Jake, but there is someone out there for you. She’ll come along when you least expect it.”
I snorted a bit. It was the same advice she had given me after Julia had left. She poked me in the chest.
“Yes, that was the same advice I gave you back after your divorce. That doesn't mean it’s not still good advice.”
I nodded again, turning back toward the barn. Throwing her lead rope across Ringo’s back, Kathi stepped up next to me and looped her arm through mine, matching my stride. Ringo followed behind us, not needing to be connected to Kathi to follow her.
“My head knows that, Kathi. But between Julia and Brandy, I'm not sure I can take much more rejection. Brandy wasn’t ever going to be serious, but just the way it ended… well, it tore me up.”
My voice finally cracked. I cleared my throat a few times, working to tamp down the flood of emotions. Kathi didn’t say anything else, just hugged my arm as we walked up to the path to the barn.
After we reached the barn and put Ringo into his stall, I chatted with Kathi for a few more moments before turning to head down to the house, ready for some lunch. I stepped up in the mudroom off the kitchen, catching a glimpse of Mom standing at the stove. She was dressed in her usual worn jeans, white T-shirt, and a flannel shirt. The smell of frying bacon drifted through the air.
