by Ellie Hall
“You’re a glass half full kind of guy, huh,” Charlotte said.
“Only when it comes to sweet tea and lemonade. But I wasn’t always.”
Her head tilted like she wanted to ask him what he meant, but he headed her off. “Want to go for a ride?”
“We just returned,” she said.
“I mean on horseback.”
“When at a ranch…” She tossed up her hands and then dashed to her room to change.
Wyatt traded his church clothes for his typical uniform of blue jeans and a white T-shirt. He also grabbed his favorite cowboy hat and a spare to protect Charlotte’s head from the sun, if it decided to shine.
Charlotte waited for him in the kitchen, wearing jean shorts and a tank top.
He gestured to the door that led to the barn. “Lady’s first.”
As she walked in front of him, his eyes drifted from the smooth slope of her shoulders, along her slim waist, and to the rear pockets of the denim shorts she wore. As she opened the door to go outside, she glanced over her shoulder. He tore his eyes away as quickly as he could. However, as she turned back around, he caught the edge of her smirk. She’d noticed he was checking her out.
He steeled himself with the reminder that she was Will’s sister. She was off limits, despite his growing attraction to her. He was joking when he’d said he prayed that Harold would get off his back about buying up some of his land. But he had indeed prayed for Charlotte’s happiness and for the spell she had on him to lift. He could afford anything money could buy, but he couldn’t afford something more to grow between them.
As Wally, another ranch hand, helped the two of them outfit a pair of horses: Charity and Kingston, he gave Wyatt an update about Spearmint, who was a retired racehorse and hadn’t had an easy life. “The old boy seems to be done up about something. I don’t reckon what.”
Wyatt knew what was coming. Likely Wally was too young and inexperienced to recognize the signs. “I’ll spend some time with him when we get back,” Wyatt assured him.
As they walked along the trail, he tried to push his concern about the ailing animal out of his mind and show Charlotte a good time. “Charity had been a show horse and loves nothing more than to be told how beautiful she is.”
“Well, that’s easy to do because it’s true.” Charlotte stroked the horse’s neck.
“It wasn’t always. After her time with the traveling circus came to an end, she was traded to a nasty man in the panhandle who let her half starve.” Wyatt shook his head, unable to forget the image of when she’d arrived at the ranch.
“I can see she’s eaten a few nibbles of cherry pie since then.”
Wyatt smiled. “I do spoil her.”
“As is evidenced by the elaborate braid in her mane.”
Wyatt chuckled. “I’m guilty of plumping her up, but it’s not only me. A group of Girl Scouts comes by once a month and positively spoils these horses. And once a year, they spoil me with Girl Scout Cookies.”
“With all this talk of cookies and pies, it’s a wonder you’re not plump.”
Wyatt recalled the rouge tint to Charlotte’s cheeks when he’d rushed into her room the night before thinking there was an intruder. He’d told himself the heat apparent on her face was because she was crying, but her gaze had lingered on him for a few moments before he had the sense to pull on his shirt. Then again, he could hardly keep his eyes from her in those jean shorts. Her legs were long and sculpted, smooth and tan from the summer sun.
He had Kingston trot ahead and tried to put a bit of distance between them. Wyatt always felt so free when riding at that moment he needed to let go of his thoughts. He wanted Charlotte to experience that same feeling: free from her burdens, the past, and sadness.
“It’s truly beautiful,” she commented as Charity came up alongside Kingston when the trail widened. “I understand why you’d want to spend so much time out here.” Charity nickered. “And you’re beautiful, too, girl.” She patted the horse’s neck.
Wyatt chuckled. “Now, she’ll be your best friend for—” He swallowed thickly, recalling the conversation about forever. “For life. A girl’s best friend.” His thoughts wandered to Spearmint. The nature of what he did on the ranch meant there’d be loss, but he did what he could to make it as comfortable as possible for the horses while he could.
“I think the saying is a dog is man’s best friend.”
“Or woman’s…and if you can interchange those then why not dogs and horses.”
“Birdie would grant you permission. You really do love them, huh? How was it leaving your career as a model with the traveling, fame, and everything?” She paused. “I’m asking for a friend.”
“Do you mean your brother?”
Charlotte smiled in confirmation. “We never had much growing up and he changed a lot when he got that first paycheck.”
“Spoiled you no doubt.”
“It was a heck of a lot more than cherry pie, that’s for sure. I kept telling him to save it, to pay off debt, to be responsible.”
“But he went wild spending.”
She nodded.
Having that much money so young had made him reckless, chasing fleeting pleasures.
“Then another check came and another. Sydney stepped in and advised him on saving and investments, thank goodness.”
“I can relate. That’s but one reason I studied finance and law. Too many mistakes taught me some hard lessons.”
“But you quit chasing that and turned to the ranch.”
Wyatt let out a long breath. “Out here, what you have in your saddle bag, the grit under your nails, and the strength in your muscles is more important than what’s in your wallet, fame, or status—no slight to Will. He chose his path and it’s served him and the people he’s influenced well. Likewise, I arrived at a detour and decided to do something different, something I found more fulfilling, with my resources.”
“You were wild once though, like my brother.”
“We flew the same altitudes, but I didn’t have quite as many people pulling at my wealth.” The comment brought to mind her father and by default her ex.
A shadow crossed her face as the clouds overhead gathered.
“He also had plenty of women after him.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes. “I’m quite sure you did too. What about Amanda?”
“Who?” he asked.
“At the wedding. It was quite obvious that she was a former model and very interested in you.”
He scoffed. “That was nothing.” But it was something, just not the way she thought. He’d entertained Amanda’s advances to distract himself from his best friend’s sister.
She cleared her throat. “At church, I heard someone ask if I was your new Mrs.,” she paused and Charity flicked away a fly. “Was there an old Mrs.?”
Had Wyatt not been firmly in his saddle, he would’ve slid off Kingston’s back. Charlotte was astute.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.
“It hadn’t come up.”
“Not directly, but you know that I was previously married. It’s something we have in common.”
The soft sound of the horse’s hooves along the trail and the muted shifting of the tack filled the silence.
“I hadn’t wanted to tell you about it for three reasons. It’s not something I generally talk about or even think about except when I’m invited to a wedding. Also, I didn’t want to give you the wrong impression.”
“The wrong impression? I’m divorced. Even though I believe in forever, I know that sometimes things don’t work out. I’d never judge you, Wyatt.”
He sighed, preparing to tell her an abbreviated version of the story. “I got married in Las Vegas. It lasted all of seven days. We were young and had rushed into it. Each day we were wed, I learned another reason why it would never work. It was a foolish mistake. Then she left me.”
“Are they really mistakes if we learn from them?” she asked, referring to his earlier comment. Sh
e bit her lip.
He’d built a fortress around himself. Somehow, she was penetrating it, one day, one smile, one adorable bite of the lip at a time.
“You could say my marriage was a mistake, but I got Birdie out of it. So no mistakes there.”
“As for my marriage? I got a whopping headache,” he said but didn’t add and a sizable hang up about marriage and women because it was only just then that he’d realized how much distance he’d put between himself and the potential for a relationship, for love. But maybe, like Charlotte suggested, it wasn’t a mistake because it led him away from other women and to her.
Kingston stopped on the trail and snorted. “Yeah, yeah, buddy. I deserve that.”
“What?” Charlotte asked.
“Nothing. When you spend enough time out here you start to talk to the horses. It’s only concerning if they start to talk back.”
Charlotte’s laughter rolled over the hills, bringing an enormous grin to his face.
“What is the third reason you don’t like to talk about your previous marriage?”
His smile dropped at the same time thunder rumbled in the distance. “We’d better head back.”
Despite a steady pace along the trail back to the barn, they didn’t beat the rain. It fell in big drops and Wyatt reckoned Charity and the person atop her back wouldn’t be happy.
As he caught up with them outside the stable, Charlotte released the reigns and held her hands up, whooping and laughing. She lowered her chest onto Charity’s neck and wrapped her arms around it. The horse nickered with delight. The woman seemed so happy, free, and unfettered. Charity felt it. He did too.
By the time they’d gotten the horses dried off and cleaned up, Charlotte’s slick, dark hair had fuzzed up around her face.
As they stood in the opening to the barn, she smoothed it down.
“It’s good to let your hair down every once in a while.”
“I hate my curls.”
“I like them.” I tugged on one and it sprung back.
She leveled him with a are you kidding me? look.
“It’s good to let yourself be wild, free.”
“Easy for you to say,” she shot back. “I have Fabian and Montgomery after the money that I never wanted and I cannot let that disrupt Birdie’s life and—”
Wyatt turned to her. “Charlotte, you can still be a wonderful mother and provide the world to Birdie and be a little bit wild.”
Her jaw was set as though she prepared to unleash a wrathful tongue on him, but a low groan came from a nearby stall. They both turned sharply.
“That’s Spearmint. I’d better tend to him. Why don’t you go back to the house and freshen up? I’ll be in soon.”
Despite the many joys life on the ranch brought him, he still faced his share of heartache too. Fortunately, he had the finances to make things as comfortable for the horses during their final days as possible.
He clicked on his phone to call the vet. Unfortunately, there was nothing the doctor could do for the heartbreak that he knew was coming.
Chapter 17
Charlotte
After Charlotte showered and dressed in dry clothes, she went to the great room, but only the lone chair sat in the middle of the space. She walked past it and leaned her forehead against the wood framing the large window. Movement by the stable caught her eye and Wyatt ducked inside. Given the lack of furnishings in the house, it was no surprise Wyatt hadn’t had a steady woman in his life. But she was surprised that he’d been married previously and hadn’t told her, considering he’d had the opportunity.
He’d repeatedly told her she wasn’t alone, but keeping that piece of information to himself, made her feel lonely or like he didn’t trust her. Like her marriage, maybe it was better for him to forget. Still, she wondered what the third reason he didn’t tell her about it was.
Since Wyatt was busy, she wandered over to the bookshelves, curious about his somewhat secret life as a lawyer, former husband, and…her gaze landed on a leather-bound album amidst the academic texts and leather-bound books. Wyatt’s name was written in glittery script along the side.
She knew better but couldn’t resist picking it up and parting the pages. It was an album containing images of him from his modeling days. There was even one of him and Will. The ad was for watches or maybe shoes. She couldn’t be sure, but they both had that smoky, handsome, swoony, alpha male look that practically had her drooling on the pages. She slammed the cover shut before she got carried away. Although he was mature and mellow—minus the fast cars—and assured her he’d learned from his mistakes, he was wild once. And once was enough for her to be wary.
Wyatt was scarce the rest of the day. Charlotte called Jennifer to check on the dogs, left a message with a friend, and reclined on the couch, reading a book from his shelves while the rain pattered against the glass.
When her stomach rumbled for something other than cherry pie, she poked around in the kitchen before putting together a one-skillet dish.
The sun had nearly set when heavy footsteps came from the back stairs. Wyatt appeared in the kitchen. His eyes drooped, tired and forlorn. “It smells delicious. I wish I had an appetite.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t wait longer. What’s the matter?” Charlotte asked, pushing her empty plate away.
“Spearmint isn’t going to be around much longer. We’ve done our best. He has a host of problems: recurrent laminitis, equine Cushing’s…” Wyatt rubbed the back of his neck. “The vet said it’s Spearmint’s time. He’s a tough old boy, but he’s in too much pain.”
Tears sprung to Charlotte’s eyes. Without thinking, she crossed the room and wrapped her arms around Wyatt. “I am so sorry,” she whispered.
Wyatt nibbled at the plate of food she’d set aside for him. His phone beeped with a text message. “I’d better get back. I don’t want Spearmint to be alone.”
Charlotte got to her feet.
“You don’t have to come.”
“Wyatt, you don’t have to be alone.” She followed him to the barn in silence. The other horses had been settled for the night. Charlotte had gleaned that many of them had injuries or illnesses that required a considerable amount of care and looking after. Spearmint was no exception.
While a couple of the ranch hands talked in low voices, she learned that Spearmint had been bred for racing by a ruthless owner. Even though it was clear early on he wouldn’t be a prize-winning racehorse, Spearmint was pushed, abused, and drugged to improve his performance. After an injury, he was sold to another man known for selling the animals to the slaughterhouse even though it was prohibited within the racing commission.
Wyatt rescued him and gave him a second chance in the pasture where he’d been free to graze and live a happy life for the last three years. But his body had suffered tremendously and he could no longer go on.
Wyatt and the vet crouched down, preparing to say goodbye. Charlotte, no stranger to loss, though not with a creature so large, joined them. She wasn’t sure how it worked in the animal kingdom but felt confident that when love was present, it was forever. Clearly, Wyatt loved the horse by the tenderness shining in his eyes. He stroked the gelding’s cheek, whispered in his ear, and nodded at the vet.
Charlotte cried silently as the horse’s chest went still. Wyatt slouched back onto the hay-strewn ground with his elbows slung over his knees and hung his head.
The barn was quiet except for the slow, mournful chirp of a single cricket.
The next morning, Charlotte woke up to the smell of breakfast coming from the kitchen. It seemed Wyatt needed some space so she went back up to the house after Spearmint passed. But she didn’t expect him to be up early cooking. Then again, he’d hardly eaten dinner.
She was worried and had seen Will act unusual after their mother passed—though breakfast was only involved if he’d been out partying all night.
Wanting to check if he was okay and without changing out of her pajamas, she wandered into the hall, following th
e sweet scent of pancakes, bacon, and eggs. “Morning,” she said.
Dressed and freshly shaven, dark circles lined the space under Wyatt’s eyes in stark contrast. His lips lifted slightly when she entered the kitchen. “I was wondering what would lure you out first: the flapjacks, bacon, or eggs. Ah, and I have fresh orange juice.” He poured and set a glass at the empty space at the counter.
She hesitantly sat down, unsure if he was struggling after Spearmint passed, and cooking breakfast was a coping mechanism, or if something else was going on.
“How’d you sleep?” he asked.
“Wonderfully, actually.”
“The country air tends to do that.”
“Did you sleep?” she asked pointedly.
“Like a baby.”
“I’ve had one of those and typically they wake up every few hours, needing a nappy change or to eat. I’m not sure why that’s an expression.”
Wyatt chuckled softly. “I suppose it fits.” He ran a hand over his face.
She reached out for him and then drew her hand away. “Um, are you okay?” she asked haltingly.
He nodded quickly. “Spearmint is at peace now. It’s times like these I wish there was more I could do. Thanks for being there with me.” He flipped the pancakes.
Thoughtful silence floated between them before he spoke again. “I’m of the mind that it’s better to celebrate what we had—that Spearmint got a second chance—than to dwell on what we lost. Also, he loved flapjacks.”
“My, you do spoil these horses.”
He held his fingers an inch apart to indicate just a little.
The mood shifted, uplifted then. Charlotte understood what Wyatt had meant. Although loss was hard, the true loss was if he’d despaired instead of focusing on the good that he’d had while the horse was still alive. In her case, that was easier said than done.
Wyatt glanced toward his grandfather’s chair as though something caught his eye. “I see you found that old album.”
“Oops. Did I forget to put it away?”
The corner of his lips lifted into a crooked smile. “An ex made it for me. I should’ve thrown it away.”