by Jean Oram
His sentence started as though he was going to make a playful dig at her about her goat pen, but then his tone changed, an awareness building between them as the silence stretched.
“There’s a lot about me you don’t know.”
He had been staring at her lips and now his gaze darted to hers as though asking her just how much was yet to be discovered. And maybe also asking how much they wanted to reveal to each other, how deep they wanted to go.
And right now? The answer, as scary as it was to her, was everything. She wanted to share every sad and sordid detail of her life, as well as explore every bit of his.
Behind them someone cleared a throat and Ryan quickly stood. “I think that’ll keep your chickens in place. Let’s go eat before we all wind up on Mom’s bad side.”
As they walked from the chicken coop to the stable, to return the tools and lumber they hadn’t used, Ryan caught himself moving closer to Carly, and at one point almost reaching out to take her hand. In front of them Myles and Karen were holding hands, as were Levi and Laura, the dusk growing around them as the last of the sun’s rays continued to fade. It felt natural to reach out to the woman he’d been thinking about, as well as sneaking in moments with all week.
Instead he moved a step to his right and quickened his pace to help Brant, who had the extra lumber, even though Ryan was already carrying a toolbox.
“I heard you’ll be at the regionals game to take stats,” Myles said to Carly. “Are you coming to State, too?”
She lifted her head from watching her steps through the dry grass and immediately glanced at Ryan, who shrugged. She didn’t need to check with him, even though he was the head coach and she was a major distraction anytime she came near him.
So, yeah, maybe it was good to check in with him first.
Not that he could say no. She was an asset.
“There’s room on the bus,” he said.
“Such a lovely invitation,” Brant muttered. “Sorry, Carly. Seems I got Ryan’s share of the Wylder charm.”
She released a light laugh.
“It’s called working out logistics,” Ryan barked at his brother.
“So, as a spectator, if you need a ride to State Ryan has you covered.” Brant’s tone was teasing but amicable, making Ryan feel like a heel. He was used to giving women his back-off vibe to the point that he no longer recalled how to give them the come-on-over one. Or at least the come-a-little-closer-but-don’t-go-expecting-too-much vibe, if there was such a thing.
“A ride would be lovely,” Carly said, giving Sergeant Riggs a quick scratch behind the ears as they walked. “Even if I don’t know if I’ll be working as a stats keeper or not.”
They were playing him. Ryan knew it. They were baiting him as if he didn’t know any better.
He would not rise to their bait. He would not bite. If Carly wanted to come with the team, then fine, but he wasn’t putting his heart out there.
“Maybe I could talk to the head coach on your behalf,” Brant said. “He’s my brother, you know. He usually brings a stats keeper or two and often puts them up in the team hotel.” Brant placed a hand on his chin as though deep in thought.
“Sorry, Brant,” Ryan said with a hint of sarcasm. “Was I supposed to say we appreciated Carly’s invaluable input? Maybe wax on about how she saw a unique perspective that helped us add a few more plays to our repertoire? Or that it would benefit the team if she came along to help? Maybe I was supposed to say she’s already the best stats person I’ve had in my five years of coaching, and she could make the difference between us winning or losing State, if we make it that far. And that my only concern is how distracting I find her when she’s on the sidelines, because it makes it difficult to focus on football?”
Everyone had gone silent, their footsteps slowing as they neared the stable. Ryan could feel their eyes on him while they pretended to look at the tall oaks that lined the edge of the property behind him.
He let out a disgusted sigh.
He’d taken their bait, and now Carly knew how dependent he was on her insights, and she’d lord it over him. Then, when he was most invested, she would vanish, leaving him high and dry.
Or, because they weren’t doing the relationship thing, his brothers would tease him about his soft spot for Carly and scare her off.
He knew the deal. Not a couple. No feelings. No obligations between them. Just independence and freedom.
“The position pays,” Myles said, breaking the silence.
“A pittance,” Ryan said pointedly.
“And it covers staying in a hotel?” Carly asked. The yard light he’d helped install came on as they walked past it. Her dark skin seemed darker, no doubt a hint she was blushing over how he’d broken their rule. He’d just made it obvious to all that something was going on.
If Carly came to State, there was no way she could stay in the same hotel as him. There wasn’t enough self-control in a man like him. Not with her being his dream woman on the field, taking stats and suggesting smart plays.
Doomed. He’d be a doomed man.
He was already.
“You can room with me,” Karen said. “The two cheer coaches are rooming together, and Jackie’s staying at her brother’s.”
“Yes! That’s a great idea,” Ryan said, too enthusiastically. The cheerleaders stayed in a different hotel than the players, meaning Carly would be blocks away if the team made it as far as State. He’d only see her on the field and at any potluck meals the parents put on.
“I don’t think I can leave my animals,” Carly said, setting down a spool of chicken wire and using both hands to open the large stable doors. “And there’s a chance I’ll be in Montana that week—the Tuesday for sure. I might not be able to get to Dallas by Friday.”
“I’m sticking around,” Brant interjected. “I can come over and feed your animals. I’m already filling in for Myles and Ryan next door.”
“You don’t go to the game?” Carly asked.
“I’ll drive to Dallas after I do chores.”
“That seems like a lot. Dallas is a long way from here.”
“Putting out a bit of dog kibble, chicken scratch and goat feed is nothing compared to what these guys have me doing.” Brant jabbed a thumb toward his brothers.
Ryan could tell Carly wanted to go.
He wanted her to come, too.
“If you can mange it, we’d love it,” Myles said.
Still she hesitated.
“I’ll buy you supper if you come,” Ryan said, instantly regretting it. “You know, as a thank-you for taking stats.”
Levi shot Ryan a questioning frown.
“Like a date?” Carly teased, causing Ryan’s brothers to laugh.
“No,” he said firmly.
“Ryan doesn’t date,” Levi said, heading inside the stable. Sergeant Riggs trotted in ahead of the rest of them, sat in front of one of the horse stalls and gave a low woof.
“His kiss-and-tell adventures up at Devil’s Horn aren’t dates?” Myles joked from the doorway, where he’d found the switch for the overhead lights.
“I doubt he even sees any of those women again,” Levi said, organizing the return of Carly’s supplies into the empty stall at the end. He stacked the boards and tools the way they’d found them and then started ushering everyone out of the stable.
“That’s the dream,” Ryan muttered, then he shook his head and sighed. Why had he told his brothers he was with women, when in fact he went out to the Devil’s Horn lookout to think?
Because they would think he was cool, that’s why. And wouldn’t ask questions, like they would if he told them he needed a quiet place to think that was far from everything. No cell phones, no distractions.
Anyway, what did it matter what Carly thought? She wasn’t going to become anything serious or permanent in his life.
“I’m sure most of the female population of Sweetheart Creek has seen the view from that lookout,” Levi said with a laugh as he reached the sta
ble doors, holding them open for everyone as if he owned the place.
Ryan expected Brant to join in with the ribbing, but when he turned to check his brother’s expression, he found him standing near one of the stalls, next to Sergeant Riggs. Savoring the way the stable held the heat from the day, warmer than outdoors, Ryan headed back to them.
Brant was frowning at a horse, arms folded over the chest-high stall gate.
“What do you think?” Ryan asked.
His brother straightened, his focus still on the quarter horse Ryan had bought for barrel racing. “Why did you buy these guys, anyway?”
“Training.”
“This one needs help.”
“What kind of help?”
Brant ran a hand down the snout of the animal, a serious, focused look on his face.
“Why is there feed coming out her nose?” Ryan asked, noting the fact with sudden alarm.
“It’s okay,” Brant said in a soothing tone. Ryan wasn’t sure if that was for him or the horse as the vet let himself into Blackberry’s stall. He made hushed, reassuring sounds as he checked her over. Every once in a while the horse would jerk her head upward. Lucinda thought this sweet beast could be a winner. She couldn’t get sick.
“Everyone’s gone back to the ranch to wash up,” Carly announced, reentering the stable. “What’s up?” Her presence drew Ryan’s attention, and he noted how good she smelled. There was something about her and the stable that just felt so right.
“Brant says there’s something wrong with Blackberry.” The horse stretched her neck and made a strange hacking sound, causing Ryan to step back, his alarm increasing. Riggs let out another soft, deep woof.
“Oh, no,” Carly said, her voice hushed as she joined Brant in the stall. “Choke?”
He nodded.
“She’s choking? Help her!” Ryan tried to figure out how you could give a horse the Heimlich maneuver. He’d never encountered this on the ranch and didn’t know what to do.
His brother exited the stall, saying to Ryan as he walked past, “I’ll get my bag.”
“But Blackberry’s choking! She can’t wait.” He didn’t know where Brant’s vet bag was, but it definitely wasn’t nearby. How much time did the horse have?
“She can wait,” Brant said, his steps steady, not rushed.
Ryan turned back to Blackberry. She was breathing, but her discomfort was clear. There were bits of green mucous and saliva, the color of feed, coating her nostrils and possibly her throat. Should he have chopped up her feed, like he saw their friend April doing with hot dogs for her young son?
No. You didn’t have to chop up food for horses.
Ryan took a step back, bumping against a warm body as the stable doors closed behind his brother.
“It’s okay,” Carly said, wrapping her arms around his middle from behind. She reached past his open jacket, placing her palms against his chest. The heat from her touch ate through the fabric between them and he absently placed a hand over hers, accepting the comfort, letting her know she should stay exactly where she was.
Long moments later she pivoted so she faced him, her hands loose on his waist. Her brown eyes held concern—for him as well as the animal.
The horse stretched and retched, looking as though she was trying to vomit. Ryan’s tension coiled tight again.
“How long does a horse have—” He wasn’t able to finish the sentence.
“It’s a minor esophageal obstruction. There’s time. She’ll be right as rain once Brant flushes it out.” When Carly slipped her arms around his waist and laid her head against his chest, he wrapped her in an embrace, unsure what else to do.
It was so soothing, having her run her hands up and down his back as they stood there in silence. No expectations, no complications. Just them together in a crisis.
He could get used to this. Having somebody.
Eventually, Carly stirred, taking his chin and forcing him to look at her. “I know we’re just casual, but what’s the deal with taking all those local gals to the lookout?”
Carly tipped her head back to watch Ryan’s face when she asked about the women at the lookout. His smile was sad, almost haunted, so she let the question go, instinctively knowing there was more to his supposed escapades, and that it was a private struggle beyond the realm of their relationship.
She used to be glad for the boundary they’d set between their lives, but lately she’d come to despise it. It was a barrier preventing them from making what was already good between them even better. If they trusted each other a bit more they could share so much, forge a connection that was deeper than a few heated embraces.
But that wasn’t what they’d agreed to, and she had a feeling neither of them would ever renege.
Ryan wound one of her curls around his finger, saying, “If you want to head to the ranch and enjoy supper, go ahead. I’ll wait here for Brant.”
“You might need an extra set of hands.”
He hugged her tighter, resting his cheek against her forehead.
Carly had dealt with choke before, her barrel riding horse in high school having dealt with it once. She knew how alarming it could be, but she hadn’t expected Ryan, who took everything in stride, to be so tense about it. Sure, he hid it well, but the way he was holding her so close, rubbing her back while they waited for Brant to return, was telling. The horses meant more to him than an income stream, and this man, who seemed to take her jabs and teasing like he was made of solid oak, had a well-hidden sensitive side.
When they heard a truck approach the stable minutes later, headlights temporarily brightening the cracks between the closed doors, they broke apart, Ryan striding to the doorway to greet Brant.
Like most rural vets Carly had met, Brant had his truck equipped with a large vet box that took up the entire back box, turning it into a mobile veterinarian clinic. She was surprised to see a woman pop out of the passenger seat and Brant lift a small boy out behind him.
“Hey, guys,” said the woman. “I heard you have a horse in distress. Thought maybe you could use some extra hands.”
“How many hands does it take?” Ryan muttered, just before Carly introduced herself to the newcomers. April MacFarlane was cute, had dimples when she smiled and an aura of an able-handed ranch gal.
Brant took his bag to the stall as the others trailed behind.
“Did you used to barrel race?” Carly asked April.
She flashed a grin. “Yup. You?” She squinted in thought. “You did, didn’t you? I think I remember you on a high-strung thoroughbred? Um, from out west. No. Up north?”
“Montana. Man, Terror was fast,” Carly said, grinning at the flood of memories. The horse had been difficult, but a perfect partner. They’d taken home a lot of hardware in their four years of rodeo.
“Tell me about it,” April muttered wryly. “You smoked me and my horse Cookies a few times.”
Ryan was looking at Carly, eyebrows raised. She gave a shrug and mouthed “What?” It wasn’t as though they asked each other about their pasts. And as for the horses, he’d made it clear he was training them his way. He didn’t want a partner or input, and she was smart enough to butt out.
“Hold this,” Brant said, handing Ryan a length of clear medical hose.
“You were good,” April said, appraising Carly.
“You, too.”
“You two remember each other?” Ryan asked.
Carly smiled politely. As one of the few women of color in rodeo, she knew she was memorable. More memorable than someone like April might be—that was if she hadn’t always left a wake of fighting cowboys everywhere she went.
“And now look at us,” April said with a laugh.
“I’m sure you still have it,” Carly stated. April had been strong and sure on top of a horse, and that wasn’t a skill she would have lost.
“The rodeo world is small,” Brant remarked, handing Carly a bucket. “Can you fill this with water?”
“Sure.” She turned to the lit
tle boy, Kurt, asking, “Want to see where the tap is for watering horses?”
“Okay.”
Together they filled the bucket, then returned to Brant’s side. He had several large needleless syringes lined up to flush water through the horse’s mouth to remove the obstruction. Ryan was standing nearby, frown in place, the coiled hose loose in his hands. Flushing the obstruction wouldn’t be pleasant for the animal, but the relief it brought would be worth the discomfort.
“Your daddy will help Ryan’s horse feel better,” Carly said to Kurt.
“My daddy isn’t here,” he replied.
April shook her head. “Brant’s an old family friend.” She reached out and gave him an affectionate push, and he looked at her in a way that left Carly with a sting of longing. There was obvious affection, trust and comfort between the two of them.
“I’m sorry,” Carly said, referring to her assumption.
“That’s fine,” April said. “We were raised like siblings.” She tipped Brant’s hat, knocking it off his head with a smirk. “Weren’t we?”
In retaliation he grabbed a handful of straw from the floor of the stall and tossed it at April’s legs, before returning his focus to the lined-up tools once again.
Soon everyone was helping Blackberry, eventually clearing the obstruction. As soon as that happened the horse went right to her feed and began eating again.
Ryan stared at her, shaking his head.
“That horse is just like you Wylder boys,” April said, patting him on the shoulder. “Always with your head in the feed bag.” She laughed and Brant gave her a warm smile.
“I can’t believe she’s already eating,” Ryan said. “She totally okay now?”
His brother nodded.
“I hear you’re starting an organic farm,” April said, pulling Kurt off a ladder that led to a small hayloft above. She gave him the empty bucket and sent him to Brant’s truck, reminding him to be helpful.
“That’s the idea.” Carly refrained from glancing over at Ryan, who was still in the stall with Brant. Apparently Ryan knew a fair bit about organic farming, according to his great-uncle Henry.