Unbridled, page 9
Her voice was so full of agony, Connor closed his eyes and tried to block it out. He’d definitely made a mistake and was paying for it now. Alex didn’t need him intruding on her private thoughts, and he sure as hell didn’t need to hear just how much pain she was in.
It reminded him too much of himself ten years ago.
Connor got to his feet, making enough noise that she heard him. It was enough to stop her tirade, thank God.
“Who’s there?”
“It’s Connor. C’mon, Alex, let me walk you back to the cabin.”
She snorted. “Connor? Ah, the first son of the great Grant Finley. Did you know he always wanted a son? That’s why he named me Alex—not Alexandra, just Alex.” Her laugh sounded more like a sob.
Connor picked up the bottle and dumped it out into the grass, then held out his hand. “You’re drunk again.”
She sighed, long and hard. “I know. I wasn’t intending on drinking but somebody left that primo hooch in the cabin, and after that lawyer left, whew! I needed a drink.”
Connor wondered what Alex had been doing in the hours in between but didn’t ask. If she wanted to tell him, she would. He managed to get her to her feet, but she was staggering.
“How much did you drink, anyway?” He struggled to keep her upright. This was too familiar, a complete déjà vu from four days ago.
“Too much. Not enough. I dunno.” She grabbed hold of his shirt. “You are freakin’ hot, Connor. You make my nipples pop whenever I catch a whiff of that cologne or see you in those tight jeans. Dayum, man, seriously nice package.”
Unbelievably, Connor felt his cheeks heat. How the hell this tiny, buxom woman with a penchant for bourbon made a man like him blush was beyond explanation.
“Glad you like it. Now, let’s get you in the cabin.” He dropped the empty bottle on the side of the trail, making a mental note to retrieve it before the morning fishermen passed by.
Before they’d made it twenty feet, he was ready to strangle Alex. She was a sloppy drunk, one who had a big mouth and didn’t know when to shut up. At thirty feet, he’d had enough and simply picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, fireman style.
She whooped and made a choking noise as her stomach pressed against his shoulder. He hoped she wouldn’t yak all over his back. That would be a perfect end to a fucked-up day, though.
As he punched in the combination to open the gate to the VIP cabin, she seemed to come back to life.
“That’s my birthday, you know.”
“What’s your birthday?” He set her on her feet so he could get the front door open.
“The combination.” She pointed shakily at the gate. “He didn’t forget me, Connor.”
Connor didn’t want to look at her, but he did anyway. In her blue eyes he saw ancient pain and grief so sharp, it cut into him. Grant had not done right by this girl—that was for certain—but it wasn’t Connor’s place to judge his friend. She had to work it out for herself, but she also had to stop drinking.
They made it inside and she pulled his head down for a kiss. She tasted of booze, desperation and longing—the wrong mixture. Connor broke the kiss and held her at arm’s length.
“I’m not going to repeat what we did yesterday on my desk. You need to drink some water and then get some sleep.” Ignoring her protests, he gave her a bottle of water from the minibar and pushed her toward the bedroom.
She sat down and struggled to unlace the silly boots she wore. “Help me, Connor.”
With a thespian-worthy sigh, he removed her boots, again. Then, with as much objectivity as he could muster, he managed to get her down to her panties and T-shirt. Her breasts were simply glorious in the moonlight streaming through the window, but he knew it wasn’t the time or the place. Alex had too many issues to work through for him to climb under the sheets with her.
She cupped his cheek. “You’re too nice for me. I need to be punished. I need a bad boy.” She kissed him hard.
“Yep, I am a nice guy—now, drink the water.”
She made a face but dutifully finished the water, then climbed into bed. It was strange to be tucking her in, but that was just what Connor did. The day had started out on a strange note, and here it was ending on an even stranger one.
Alex looked up at him, her eyes luminous in the semidarkness of the room. “I like you, Galahad.”
His heart did a complete somersault as the earth moved beneath his feet. “You’re still drunk.”
“I’m sober enough to know what I’m saying. I’ll regret saying it, but it won’t change the fact that it’s true.” She touched his cheek. “You’re so perfect, it makes my heart hurt to look at you.”
Connor shook his head. “I’m far from perfect, Alex. I wasn’t always the upstanding businessman. Believe me, I was inches away from spending my life in prison when, uh, when I got the opportunity here at Finley’s.”
He’d almost told her Grant had saved his life, but it wasn’t the right time for sharing that particular piece of information.
“Ah, but you have a good heart. A gentleman, a knight, a cowboy.” She smiled, and he saw the woman behind the anger, and knew that he could fall for her if he wasn’t careful. They were more alike than she realized.
“Good night, Alex.” He started to rise but she pulled him down.
“You must kiss me good night, Galahad.”
It was the third time she’d called him that. Obviously Maid Alex had a thing for Camelot. “Nope, just go to sleep.”
“Not gonna sleep unless I get a kiss.” She had morphed into coy and mischievous.
Connor, recognizing a losing battle, leaned down and brushed a kiss on her cheek. “Good night, Alex.”
To his surprise she didn’t protest the chaste kiss or push for a deeper one. She snuggled down into the covers and he sat there, oddly comforted by the fact he had made sure she was safe again.
Grant would be proud of him.
Alex woke suddenly, instantly awake in the plush, pillowed bed. She sat straight up and looked around, confused by her surroundings. The entire previous day rushed through her memory and she flopped back on the bed and groaned.
Interestingly enough, she didn’t have a hangover, although she distinctly remembered swilling bourbon straight from the bottle. There was the fucking lawyer, the cemetery, the moon and . . . Connor. Again.
Did the man have nothing better to do than rescue her from her own stupidity? Apparently not, judging by the fact that he’d brought her home and tucked her in again. She wished he’d done more than tuck her in, especially after getting a taste of just how passionate he was.
Alex knew they were very compatible sexually and wanted to explore that relationship further. She didn’t need to have something long-term to enjoy herself. In fact, she’d done her best to avoid deep relationships, but she had developed trust with her partners over the years.
It was a beautiful morning judging by the sunshine streaming through the windows. She rolled out of bed and showered, the hot water reviving her nicely. There was a one-cup coffeemaker with little tiny cups of grounds for each. She happily made herself two cups and sipped them as she nibbled on the bread left on the tray from room service the night before.
Although she was hungry, the bread and coffee were all she wanted at the moment. She dressed in jeans and sneakers, determined to take her first ride in ten years. The thought of hopping on Rusty’s back was more appealing than any gourmet breakfast.
The cool air felt nice against her shower-warmed skin. She actually felt good that morning, which was a surprise considering the fact that it was the second night in a week that she’d drank too much. Perhaps whatever Connor did helped prevent whatever hangover she might have gotten.
It was before eight and there were only employees up and about. The fishermen were likely already at their task, which left the pretend cowboys. She surmised they were at the mess hall chowing down on Bernice’s eggs and bacon.
As she stepped into the enormous barn, the smells washed over her, catapulting her back to the past, to the very memories she’d avoided. Alex had loved horses, loved riding, loved everything about life on a ranch. She’d started on the back of a horse before she’d even gotten comfortable on her own two feet.
Alex had lived and breathed ranching. Her throat tightened at the realization that she’d hidden not only from her father but also from herself for the ten years she’d been gone. She’d truly missed all of it. She resented that, whoever was to blame for it.
The barn was quiet except for the sounds of the horses, the wuffles, an occasional neigh, the scrape of the horseshoes in the hay and a low murmur from somewhere in the back. She glanced down at her sneakers and made a promise to find a store that sold real boots as soon as possible.
She walked in, pleased to see how clean and organized the barn was. If Connor did anything halfway, she’d probably have to search twenty years to find it. He ran a tight ship, that was obvious, and in this case the horses were well cared for.
Alex strolled past the stalls, studying each horse’s name tag and breed before taking the time to look at them, say hello and blow into their nostrils so they learned her scent. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun or relaxed so easily.
Horses always had that effect on her, and she was so glad it was still true. They were friendly for the most part, although some were standoffish. They had personalities just like people, but most people didn’t know that. She found Rusty halfway down and was thrilled when he immediately came to her. She scratched him behind the ear and he gave her all kinds of horsey love.
After she finished meeting the horses, she made her way back to the front of the barn to the tack room. There were rows of neatly laid-out saddles, bits, bridles and headstalls. A pile of blankets lay in the corner, ready for use.
It was just as neat as the barn, and Alex started wondering if Connor had a form of OCD. No one’s tack room and barn were that damn neat. She checked everything and found it well-oiled and in great shape, of course. Alex begrudgingly admitted that it was in as great a shape as the books. She made a face at a fancy saddle with silver conchos decorating it. Could something be just a bit out of place and make her feel as if she were at a ranch?
“Can I help you?”
Alex turned to find a man in his forties, bowlegged as all men who spend too much time in the saddle are. He had some silver mixed in with his jet-black hair, and the standard cowboy garb of jeans and a button-down blue shirt. He pushed back his cream-colored hat and put his hands on his hips as he looked her over.
“I wanted to ride Rusty this morning. I didn’t want to disturb the exceedingly neat tack but I need a saddle I can sit on.” She touched the chinks hanging from the walls. “One of these days I’ll wear these again too.”
“You Alex Finley?”
Obviously Connor had put the word out about her. “Yep, sure am.” She held out her hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“I’m Julio, head groomsman here at Finley’s.” His hand was big, warm and callused, barely squeezing hers before letting go.
“Can you help me get Rusty ready?”
“Sure thing, Ms. Finley. I think I’ve got the perfect saddle for you that’ll fit that big bay.”
They spent the next ten minutes getting everything ready and saddling Rusty. Excitement bubbled in Alex’s stomach as they finally tightened the cinch and led the horse out of the barn. The sun made her eyes sting after being in the shady barn for so long, but she didn’t care. She was about to take a ride for the first time in ten years.
“There’s a mounting block over yonder.” Julio pointed to a long block on the ground, obviously there for all the cowgirls who rode during their vacations.
Alex knew her limitations and her lack of height. Accepting the inevitable, she led Rusty over to the mounting block and climbed up on his back with more ease than she expected. From up on top of the big horse, she felt as if she were a giant, that she could conquer the world if only she could ride him forever.
It was a freeing, amazing sensation and it made a smile break out across her face. Julio smiled up at her as he adjusted the stirrups.
“Keep to the trails until you get to know the terrain again. A lot can happen in ten years to change things.” He wasn’t bossy, but rather doling out advice he’d give to any guest at the ranch. Alex didn’t take offense and planned to take that advice to heart. She didn’t fancy getting lost on her first week back.
“Will do. Thanks, Julio.”
Alex used her knees to guide Rusty as she turned toward the signs for the trails, for the first time absurdly glad there were signs around. At first she thought they were tacky and a symptom of what was wrong on the dude ranch, but without them, she might not have even found the trail.
As much as she hated to admit it, Connor had done a good job of managing, running and laying out the ranch. She still didn’t take to the fact that her childhood home was inhabited by strangers, though. Her mother would have hated it. In fact, if they closed the dude ranch the next day and everyone left, Alex would be pleased as punch.
Of course, that would mean all the people there, including Bernice, would be out of a job. Alex had no money to pay anyone to work at the ranch, and there was the small matter of her little brother.
The thought of having a brother made her break out in a cold sweat. She’d spent so long competing against someone that wasn’t there—namely a brother—that to find out that person existed was devastating. He looked healthy, obviously hearty and, although he favored his mother, he had the Finley chin.
Alex wanted to hate him, so much that she could taste it. If she thought about it, though, it was more resentment than hate. She resented the fact he’d had her father, that Grant had been a father to him, acting with love and guidance, whereas she’d had nothing. As though Daniel had stolen him.
She sucked in a breath as the truth hit her square between the eyes. She was green-eyed jealous of the boy. He was a kid, for God’s sake, and Alex wanted to keep him out of her sight because she was jealous of whatever relationship he’d had with their father.
It wasn’t Daniel’s fault that their father had been a selfish asshole. Yet it was the sins of the father being visited on the sons, or daughter and son in this case. Alex couldn’t imagine seeing the kid every day, a constant reminder of what she wasn’t, and could never be. It would be a year from hell.
She made it to the trailhead and examined the signs, selecting the easy trail for her first ride, per Julio’s instructions. As much as she wanted to simply let the horse have its head and ride hell-bent for leather, she listened to her common sense this time.
The sun peeked its way through the trees as she picked her way along the trail. The burbling of a brook, the birds, a chattering squirrel and Rusty’s hooves were the only sounds. It was almost as if she’d landed in another planet after living in L.A. for ten years. Life actually existed outside of fast food, movies and trendy night-clubs. The sky could be blue, the air clean and the world much simpler.
It was interesting that she’d blocked out a good deal of her memories of Wyoming. She’d let the bad stuff overwhelm the good in her head. This, however, was definitely the good stuff. A morning ride used to be her ritual, what she did no matter what the weather. Although there were times her mother forced her to stay indoors during a blizzard so as not to risk the horse’s life along with her own.
Alex took a deep breath, pushing aside the bad stuff so she could focus on the good. For the most part, she succeeded. The land began to seep into her bones again, the love of the wide-open sky, the majestic mountains. She was born and bred in Wyoming; it was a part of her, a part she had denied for so long, too long.
After a glorious hour of riding, she returned to the barn refreshed and feeling much better than when she’d woken that morning. There were a lot more people around, many of the guests were milling around the barn at various stages of getting ready to ride.
She wasn’t concerned with Rusty’s next rider since Connor told her he was reserved for VIPs, and since she was the one staying in the VIP cabin, there wasn’t anyone else. As she hopped off his back, her legs and behind groaned. She forgot just how many muscles she used when riding.
They, however, reminded her with a vengeance. She hobbled a bit as she led Rusty back into the barn to rub him down. It had been a leisurely ride so he didn’t need too much attention, but she was responsible for it. One of the ranch hands unsaddled him and she managed a tight grin, although her ass felt like someone had punched her.
Alex realized she’d been dumb enough not to stretch before riding and now was paying the price. After she rubbed Rusty down and finished replacing the tack she’d used, Alex headed for the door, eager to return to the cabin and use the jet tub she’d spotted in the bathroom.
“No, Buttons, you can’t have any more peppermint sticks. Mama says they’re making you fat.” A child’s voice came from the second stall, where the pony was located, if she wasn’t mistaken. “Ginger doesn’t eat too many and she’s not fat like you. The little kids can’t ride you if your belly is too wide.”
Alex wanted to leave, but curiosity compelled her and her steps slowed. She peeked over the stall door and saw the black-haired Daniel using a curry brush on the shaggy pony. He looked so serious with his brow furrowed and his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth.
She was immediately awash in memories of her childhood, of her father teaching her how to take care of a horse. Alex wasn’t ready for the wall of sadness and poignancy that hit her. She stepped away before the boy saw her and hightailed it out of the barn.
Alex didn’t want to think about her father, or her brother, and particularly not in the same thought. She tried to remind herself the kid had no blame for her issues, that he was as innocent in the situation as she was, but regardless of logic, her heart controlled her actions. Ignoring the pain in her muscles, Alex ran to the cabin. Ran from her memories and the pain.
