Not Their First Rodeo

by Christy Jeffries

  She’d thought they’d turned a corner that night at Big Millie’s when he’d let his guard down and opened up about losing the babies. But then the following day, she’d run into him at Burnworth’s Bakery and he’d pretended he didn’t even know her. In fact, several times last week she’d seen him on duty patrolling the small town of Teton Ridge, and the most he’d been able to manage was a brief nod in her direction.

  It was almost as though he didn’t want anyone in town seeing them being even slightly friendly toward each other.

  Then, last Sunday, she’d gone out for a run on one of the many trails crisscrossing the vast ranch and saw him and the twins riding their bikes toward the main house. The boys were excited to see her and Jordan immediately wanted to know if she wanted a tour of their “brand-new” cabin.

  “Well, it’s not real brand-new,” Jack clarified. “We used to live there before when our mom was alive, but me and Jordan don’t remember that from way back when. But we have a Nintendo Switch and you can play the red controller if you want. It has motion controls and rumbles in your hands so you can feel when you go over the bumpy track.”

  Violet had tried not to blink too much at the casual mention of their mom in passing. “I think I may have to brush up on my video game skills before I take on the responsibility of the red controller. Maybe some other time?”

  Marcus had let out the breath he’d been holding, looking visibly relieved. “Speaking of added features.” He nodded at her smartphone on the elastic holder around her bicep. “How’s your GPS reception on that thing? The open pastures on the west side of the ranch make it hard to get lost. But the trails on this side are way narrower and confusing for people who didn’t grow up here.”

  “Well, maybe you’ll get lucky, and I’ll wind up lost,” she’d retorted. He hadn’t cared about her safety or her sense of direction all last week when he’d ignored her in town. Yet now he suddenly felt the need to patronize her with his knowledge of the rugged tree-lined terrain.

  So now that she’d set up an office in the pool house and wasn’t in town at the law library as much, she was making more of an effort to be the one who ignored him. Violet responded to several emails and had a video conference with one of her clients turned state’s witness housed in protective custody at the West Tower Detention Facility. When she ran out of tasks, she returned to the main house to find out Sherilee had insisted Marcus and the twins come for a family meal that night.

  The twins, as usual, had been excited to see Violet, regaling her with stories about their school day. Their father, as usual, was much harder to read. Marcus’s family might be a little pushy, but nobody was forcing him to be here. She had to give him credit for at least making the attempt to keep things as normal as he could for his children.

  As they took their places in the dining room, Violet watched Marcus reach across the table to help Jack pour his lemonade into one of the fancy crystal goblets Sherilee insisted everyone use. Then he silently helped Jordan spread the cold pat of butter across his crumbling biscuit. Violet wondered if he would’ve been as gentle and loving as a father to her twins, had they survived.

  Guilt caused her chest to tighten. Of course he would have been. The man was born to be an amazing dad. It was his role as ex-boyfriend and big brother that could use a little work.

  “You have any plans this weekend, MJ?” Freckles asked.

  “No!” both Marcus and his mother said in unison.

  MJ threw his napkin on the table. “So I’m a prisoner in my own home now?”

  Sherilee returned MJ’s napkin to him as if he’d accidentally misplaced it. “I thought we agreed that you’d keep a low profile and not leave the ranch until things calm down.”

  “You mean you and Sheriff Trust-No-One over there agreed,” MJ replied, displaying his most angst-filled teenaged glare in Marcus’s direction.

  “I’m pretty sure your defense attorney would recommend the same thing.” Great, now Marcus was drawing Violet into their petty squabble.

  Violet took a sip of her ice water, wishing she hadn’t declined the predinner cocktail hour, before speaking directly to MJ. “Only because I think the judge would look more favorably on you not drawing any attention to yourself by leaving the ranch. Unless, of course, you were going to a job or a college class, perhaps.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t have a job. And I’m not going to college,” MJ announced, making his mom gasp. He looked Sherilee in the eye and added, “Ever.”

  “I can give you a job,” Uncle Rider offered. “Plenty of stalls need mucking.”

  “So my only choices are house arrest and forced labor. I’d probably have it better in prison.”

  Violet’s left eye twitched. She thought about the client she’d just spoken with via video chat. The woman had been in and out of institutions since she was twelve years old and was facing ten more years if she didn’t cooperate with prosecutors to implicate her pimp as the head of a human-trafficking ring.

  The young man sitting before her had no idea what a real prison smelled like, let alone felt like. MJ’s pessimistic attitude—while understandable—was probably the biggest contributor to his current predicament. He was young, privileged and way too sheltered to have such a big chip on his shoulder. He was also drifting through life aimlessly with no goals and way too much free time on his hands, which only gave him more opportunity to stew.

  “Peyton’s mom’s boyfriend was in prison,” young Amelia said. “She went to visit him every month, and there was a big, mean dog that sniffed her mom to make sure she didn’t sneak any keys or bad stuff into him.”

  “Really?” Dahlia tilted her head at her daughter. “Peyton’s mom told me that her boyfriend lived in Montana.”

  “They have prisons in Montana,” Rider said. “Got an old rodeo buddy who did a dime in the state pen back in the seventies. Said it was the worst stretch he’s ever done. But he did meet his wife there. She was a guard. So I guess it worked out for him.”

  “Anyone else see a problem with the direction of this conversation?” Duke nodded subtly at the wide-eyed expressions on his nephews’ faces. “Maybe we should change the subject to something that is a little less Shawshank Redemption.”

  “So if I can’t leave,” MJ said returning the topic back to himself, “can I at least have some friends over to hang out?”

  “Like who?” Sherilee might’ve lifted a sculpted brow if her Botoxed forehead would’ve allowed it.

  MJ shrugged. “Like Kendra?”

  “No!” Marcus and Sherilee said in unison. Again.

  MJ turned pleading eyes toward Violet, who seemed to be his only ally at the table. Or at least the only person legally contracted to represent him. She sighed. “I don’t see a problem with Kendra visiting as long as you guys are properly chaperoned and only engaging in activities suitable for teenagers.”

  Finn plopped another spoonful of chicken and dumplings on her plate. “Violet, you might need to define what your expectations of a suitable activity is.”

  “I don’t know. What do eighteen-year-olds do for fun nowadays?”

  “The same thing we used to do when we were that age.” Marcus stared expectantly at her, and Violet’s face felt as though it was going to catch on fire.

  Sherilee choked on her wine, while Freckles and Finn giggled like schoolgirls.

  “In that case, count me out as a chaperone.” Duke sat back in his chair and rubbed his flat stomach. “Mom and Dad used to make me tag along with Vi and Marcus to keep an eye on them, but I always ended up getting ditched.”

  “Why would they ditch you, Uncle Duke?” Jordan wanted to know. “You’re the funnest one in the family, and you’re real good at playing football and Uno and video games.”

  “Because back then, your dad and Miss Violet preferred to play a two-person game called—”

  “Twister,” Violet inter
rupted Duke just in time, which made Finn and Freckles giggle even more. Even Dahlia had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing.

  Duke held up his hands innocently. “Hey, I was going to say Battleship. But that might be a better description for the game you two are currently playing.”

  Marcus narrowed his eyes at his brother but didn’t dispute the fact that he and Violet were, in fact, acting like adversaries who wanted to sink each other.

  “Yeah, we get it. Marcus and Violet hate each other,” MJ said, causing Jordan to gasp with concern. “But can we focus on me and my situation for a second?”

  “It’s okay,” Marcus said softly as he patted his son’s shoulder. “Violet and I are old friends who just squabble sometimes. We don’t really hate each other.”

  Jack’s eyes sought Violet’s across the table, and she nodded in confirmation. At least she could reassure the boys, even if she couldn’t reassure herself.

  MJ, though, continued, “You guys can’t keep me and Kendra away from each other forever.”

  Rider wiped some sauce off his bushy mustache. “I think your girlfriend’s dad might have something to say about that. Or did you forget that you sucker punched her old man?”

  “I apologized. Besides, it’s not my fault Deputy Broman hates our family. At some point, he’s gonna have to get over it because I love his daughter and eventually we’ll find a way to be together no matter what. We’re like Romeo and Juliet.”

  “Did you ever actually read Romeo and Juliet?” Marcus asked.

  “I read most of it. We had to do a book report on it my sophomore year.”

  Violet felt another migraine coming on and pinched the bridge of her nose. In an effort to present her client in the most favorable light in court, she’d gone through MJ’s high-school transcripts and was disappointed to see so many below-average grades and comments from his teachers about how smart he was but how rarely he turned in assignments.

  “Yeah, well, if you’d ever finished something you’d started, you’d know that things don’t work out too well for that particular pair of star-crossed lovers.” Marcus tilted back the rest of his beer and swallowed before adding, “In fact, it rarely does.”

  Whoa. That second dig was definitely directed at her. Forgetting her earlier reassurance to Jordan and Jack about not hating their father, Violet narrowed her eyes at Marcus. “Do we really need all your extra judgments thrown in for dramatic flair?”

  “What extra judgments?”

  “Oh, you know, the dig about MJ not finishing what he starts. Then the bonus commentary about young love rarely working out.”

  He held up his open palms. “I was merely stating the facts. Romeo and Juliet were in love, and it didn’t end so well. I’m sorry if that hits a little too close to home for you, Violet.”

  “Well, if we’re going to state facts, then let’s talk about how Romeo totally overreacted. If he had just been patient and thought things through instead of jumping to conclusions, Juliet would’ve gotten up and explained everything. But your boy had to act all rash and assume the worst and turn the whole thing into a tragedy.”

  “How do you know Romeo wasn’t also dealing with Juliet’s mom planting seeds of doubt in his head?” Marcus argued. “Telling him that her daughter was better off without him?”

  “If that was the case, then he should’ve realized her mom didn’t want them to be together in the first place,” Violet countered. “The seeds of doubt should never have taken root.”

  “All I’m saying is that it might’ve been nice if she’d written him a note or something letting him know what was going on.”

  “She did write a note. How was she to know that he never got it?”

  “Wait. Are we still talking about Romeo and Juliet?” Rider asked. “Freckles made me watch the movie once, but I fell asleep before it got to all of that.”

  “Yeah, this story sounds boring,” Jack said while trying to balance his spoon on his nose. “Is it time for dessert yet?”

  And just like that, Freckles retreated to the kitchen to serve up the banana cream pie to the kids. Sherilee followed to make sure her sister-in-law was only using the dairy-free whipped topping instead of real cream.

  Apparently, nobody else wanted to listen to Marcus and Violet rehash the story of their breakup using euphemisms from a literary classic, either. The entire King family jumped at the chance to clear out of the dining room without bothering to make a single excuse for their abrupt exits.

  Violet and Marcus remained in their seats across the table from each other, the tension between them having been stretched to their limits, but now sagging. Like a deflated party balloon.

  “We never used to fight like this before.” Marcus finally broke the silence. “It doesn’t feel right to be at odds this way. But at the same time, I can’t stop myself from getting sucked into even the slightest argument. I’m really sorry, Violet. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

  “Do you remember the first time you asked me out?” she shifted forward in her seat.

  He tilted his head at her before staring up at the ceiling for several seconds. Finally, he shook his head. “I remember going to the movies a handful of times, and playing mini golf, and driving to Six Flags when we tried to set Duke up with your roommate from boarding school and he came out to us before we got on the first roller coaster. Oh, and that one time you talked me into taking you to the Justin Timberlake concert and caught me singing along to all the lyrics I pretended I didn’t know. But I can’t think of the first time.”

  “That’s because you never did ask me out, Marcus. It just sort of happened, like it was a given that we were together. We never really had to work at having a relationship before.” She sighed. “Every time I look at you, I see the boy you used to be. I mean, in a more manly body, but it’s still you. Except it’s not, because you’re so different now. We both are so much more cynical, for good reason, which means being around you isn’t as natural as it used to be. The problem is that my brain doesn’t want to accept that, so my tongue lashes out.”

  His chest expanded, and even from a distance she could see his pupils dilate. “Maybe your tongue needs something else to keep it occupied?”

  Adrenaline spiked through Violet, causing her to briefly calculate whether it would be faster to walk around the table or to just hurdle over the draped white linen tablecloth and crystal goblets to get into his arms.

  Luckily, the sudden appearance of Jack and Jordan carrying two plates of pie into the dining room saved her from doing something she’d later regret.

  * * *

  Having been both an eighteen-year-old virgin and now a thirty-two-year-old experienced man, Marcus had never wanted a woman more than he wanted Violet Cortez-Hill. He was no longer an impulsive youth, though, and knew full well the potential consequences of allowing history to repeat itself.

  Not that Marcus wanted to go down that road again. Especially not after the unwarranted lecture he’d gotten from Reed Nakamoto about not letting Violet sweet-talk him into anything. He’d purposely stayed away from her every time he’d seen her in town, just so that nobody could say something was going on between them.

  Still, it was getting awfully hard to avoid the woman when they were living on the same damn ranch. Especially when his sons loved seeing her so often and his mom kept insisting on her torturous and chaotic family dinners. Plus, deep down, he didn’t really want to avoid her. He wanted to go back to how things used to be. But that would never happen until they got everything off their chests.

  On his way home from work Tuesday, he was driving past the main house and saw Violet walking from the stables in the direction of the pool house. The kids had told him all about her new office space and how they’d helped her decorate with their homemade art and trail finds. Oh, and some colorful beach towels to make her feel like she was back in sunny Texas. It sounded l
ike she was already homesick.

  Violet waved, so he slowed the cruiser and asked, “Have you seen the boys? My mom picked them up from school, but she isn’t answering her cell phone.”

  “Mrs. King said she had some sort of meeting with Special Agent in Charge Simon in the conference room attached to the agents’ bunkhouse. She asked me to watch the twins for a few minutes, and they wanted me to see their new horses.”

  Marcus put the SUV in Park and climbed out. “So they’re in the stables?”

  “Well, they were. But then Uncle Rider offered to take them out on the trail. I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t go with them, but I didn’t have any suitable shoes or riding clothes, so I decided to stay back.”

  He glanced at her fitted black pants and suede fashion boots with the fur trim. Nobody was going to confuse her for a cattle hand, but he’d seen people climb into the saddle wearing a lot worse. Then a memory clicked into place. One of him taking a sixteen-year-old Violet out on her first ride. Marcus had stupidly wanted to show off one of their prime stallions, a young, spirited buck who, unfortunately, attempted to mount Violet’s mare. While she was riding her.

  But that was so long ago. Plus, she’d gone to an elite boarding school in Virginia with a world-famous equestrian program. Surely she couldn’t be...

  “Wait. Are you still afraid of horses?”

  “I’m not afraid of them,” she said, then lowered her voice as a gelding in the outside corral passed by. “It’s just that they don’t really like me all that much.”

  “How can an animal not like you?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe they sense my nervousness.”

  Marcus bit back a grin. “Have you ever gotten back in the saddle again?”

  “Of course. When I was in college, I decided to conquer my fear once and for all. It was spring break, and a group of us went to Cancún. The resort had horseback riding on the beach, so I figured having a change of scenery wouldn’t trigger my traumatic memory of that awkward day with Fabio.”