by Taylor Hart
Chapter 4
Cass stood next to her horse, Sunshine, and pushed the comb in long strokes down her front shoulders and legs. It’d been stupidly impossible to get Anthony Kincaid’s lips out of her mind. The feel of him seemed to be burned into her.
She’d gotten home, taken Sunshine out, and ridden her hard. Now, freshly hosed off, Sunshine enjoyed a nice grooming. Cassidy took in a long breath. Everything had been clear before, back when her fiancé, Kyle was alive. Her hand brushed Sunshine’s coat as she thought of Kyle’s handsome face. His green eyes. The feel of him against her as he hugged her the last time at the airport. The way he whispered, “I’ll be back, Cass. Love you.”
Her therapist in Florida said time would help. It hadn’t. It’d been six months and sometimes she still felt like she couldn’t get a breath.
“Looks like you’re working some kind of problem out on poor old Sunshine.” Her father paused to pet the horse’s head, then continued down to the next stall, opening the door and pulling Popeye out.
“You should be resting,” she said to her father in a parental tone, even though it would do no good to chide the man.
“I feel fine.” He waved a hand in dismissal and picked up another brush, preparing to groom Popeye.
The radiation treatment took it out of him most days, but he still came out and helped with the horses as much as he could. She didn’t know how he handled it so well. The old man was tough, that was for sure.
Cassidy kept brushing Sunshine, thinking of how she liked where her father lived this go around in Dallas, a lot better than where he’d lived before … next to the Kincaids. Still smarting, she sucked in a long breath. “You should rest more, let the hired help take care of the horses.”
He snorted at her. “Are you referring to yourself as the hired help?”
She snorted back. “Yes, Dad. I’m here, aren’t I?” Trying to not have that tone with him, she pushed away the thought that he’d waited so long to tell her about the cancer.
“Are you missing your job in the big city?” her father asked.
It annoyed her that he always referred to Orlando as “the big city.” “Dad, I think Dallas would be considered a ‘big city’ too.”
He grunted.
She thought about her job interviewing elite athletes. Her boss had told her she could come back any time. “I do miss it, but I want to be here.” She didn’t look at her dad. Leaning in, she whispered into Sunshine’s ear, “You’re a good girl.”
“They’re not babies,” her father scoffed.
It was the perennial argument she had with her father in regards to pampering the horses. “Sure they are.” She smiled at Sunshine, loving this little horse more than anything else in her life at the moment, with the exception of her father.
“So what are you upset about?” her father asked cautiously.
She relented—she needed to talk. “I saw the Kincaid brothers today at the assignment I’ve been given for my work.”
Her father let out a long breath. “It seemed inevitable, seeing those boys, doing the job you do. I know you think I pushed you into taking the job at the Star, but you don’t have to. You don’t need the money; I have a fund for you.”
“I don’t want the fund,” she stated again. He’d tried to push her to take the money and she’d always refused. In fact, it was part of the reason she’d taken the job at the Star, so she wouldn’t have to rely on her father’s money. Leading Sunshine back to her stall, she pulled Diva out and started saddling her up.
“That money is yours after I die.” His attention was on Popeye. “All of my money is yours when I die, and that might be sooner than later.”
“Don’t say that,” she said tightly. “You’re not dying, old man, do you hear me?” She glared hard at him, wanting to scream.
Her father took a step back, a smile playing at his lips. “Well, good. At least you don’t hate me enough to want me dead, so there’s that.”
Confused, she thought through how he’d been pushing her and saying things like that. “Did you think that, Dad? That I hate you?”
He clasped his hands together, rubbing one of his palms. Cassidy couldn’t tell if it was arthritis or a nervous thing. “You have been upset with me.”
She exhaled. “Dad ...”
He turned to meet her eyes.
Without a word, he took two steps toward her and wrapped her in a hug.
It stunned her. They hadn’t been that affectionate since she was younger, but being in her dad’s arms and having someone to hold on to felt good. She relaxed.
He squeezed her tighter, then let go. “I love you, sugar box. And I want you to remember something.”
Sensing a lecture, she crossed her arms. “What’s that, Dad?”
He held her shoulders. “Out of every dark cloud always comes a silver lining.”
This was not the advice or wisdom she needed or wanted at the moment. “O-kay.”
Pulling his hands back, he said, “Crap happens in life, sweetheart. We can’t control life, but most of the time good comes out of the thing that’s the worst.”
“Are you talking about Kyle or you?”
His lips quirked in a smile. “Both.”
Cass frowned. Her skin crawled whenever her father dwelled on dying. “You’re going to be fine, Dad.”
Letting out a breath, he gestured to Popeye. “I want to ride with you,” he said, taking a saddle off of the horse stall. “If that’s okay.”
It was more than okay. “That works.”
Once they got on the trail around the property, they fell into a rhythm. This was how it was with them. How it had been since she’d come home. Nice. Quiet. Even though it wasn’t perfect, at least her father would let her be alone in her thoughts. They’d always had the need for quiet in common.
They rode and came back. They didn’t speak at all the entire time. She had plenty of time to turn that kiss around in her mind over and over.
When they got back, they unsaddled and brushed the horses down, then led them into stalls and finished by filling the water troughs.
“So what are you going to do about Anthony?” her father asked.
It felt like her father had been spying on her thoughts. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I assume he wants to see you.”
The slap echoed in her memory. “I don’t think so. It … he told me he’d forgiven me.” She let out a sad laugh at the ridiculousness of the conversation today.
Her father shook his head. “The putz.”
She rolled her eyes, and they began walking toward the house.
The home wasn’t fancy, but it was well taken care of. Her father had taken a huge interest in making sure all the outbuildings and everything were in good repair. He didn’t need to work himself so much, but she knew it was part of what kept his mind off of the cancer, too.
Her father turned to her. “So are you going to see him or not?”
She slid open the back door that led from the deck to the kitchen. “Dad, I’m not going to see him.”
Chapter 5
Anthony sat in Cassidy’s driveway. It hadn’t been easy to find out where Mr. Stone lived. The address wasn’t google-able. Anthony had broken down and simply called his father and had the address in less than five minutes. Of course his father knew all about Cass being back and working at the Dallas Star. His father knew most things when it came to his family and friends, and Cassidy’s father was considered one of his friends. They’d been neighbors, but he’d also continued to buy horses from him over the years.
There was a price to asking his father for information. “I hear Cassidy’s fiancé died fighting for this great nation,” his father stated.
“Yeah,” Anthony said quietly. He wanted to know Cassidy’s secrets, and he wanted her to tell him. “Did you know about Mr. Stone’s cancer?”
“’Course I knew. Been out to check on him myself.” His father sighed. “What are you doing sticking your nose in their
business?”
Anthony didn’t answer.
His father tsked his tongue. “Sad thing, Harrison, old boy. Tell him I can always use another horse if he’s still selling.”
“Dad, I’m not going to do that.”
“Fine. Then what are you doing? Are you going out there to see the girl? Please tell me you aren’t trying to start things up with Cassidy again.”
“I have to go.” He’d ended the call.
Now, he pushed away his nerves and looked around. The property was nice, kept up. There was a large horse property in back. Anthony finally got out, tentatively walking to the front door, holding the sunflowers he’d bought for her. He felt more nervous than he’d felt when he was sixteen and preparing to take her out for the first time. Nausea threatened as he thought about the venom on her face when she’d slapped him.
Mr. Stone opened the door before he could knock. The old guy looked every bit the larger-than-life man he’d always been, only a bit thinner. “Well, Anthony Kincaid.” A sparkle brightened his eyes, the kind of sparkle a betting man had. He’d been a bit mischievous when they were growing up, always had a joke for Anthony or wanted to discuss football with him.
“Mr. Stone.” Anthony hated the fact he was fighting cancer. Not knowing what to say, he put on a smile and asked, “Would Cassidy be available?” The sunflowers in his hands felt too heavy to hold.
Mr. Stone cocked an eyebrow. “I can ask, but flowers don’t make everything right, you know that?”
Anthony blinked, taken aback at his frankness. “Okay.”
Mr. Stone pushed away from the door, didn’t ask him in, which was against all kinds of Southern Texan hospitality, and left him standing there. He could hear muffled whispers, and he wondered if she really wouldn’t come to the door.
Then she appeared with her father behind her. Her blonde hair was pulled back from her face in a clip, making her beautiful eyes appear larger than they had when he’d seen her in the stadium.
The center of his chest squeezed. His mouth went dry. At this moment he thought she looked so much more like a woman than she had in high school, and he felt stupid for realizing something so obvious. Her cheekbones were more pronounced; she was slender, but filled out in all the right places. She was beautiful.
The beautiful, vulnerable eyes quickly turned to angry slits, and she crossed her arms. “What are you doing here?” She wore jeans and boots and looked like she’d just come in from riding.
“I …” Feeling pathetic, he shoved the sunflowers at her. “I thought, I just, I …” He forced himself to say it. “I had to give you these.”
She looked down at the flowers as if they were junk mail and didn’t move to uncross her arms. Silence.
“I’ll leave you two alone.” Her father walked out of the room.
Anthony swallowed. He’d expected at least politeness. With effort, he waved the flowers in front of her. “They’re your favorite, remember?” It’d been all she could talk about incessantly. How symbolic sunflowers were, how they turned up to the sun and got strength from the sun and how they turned down at night without sunshine. She was so symbolic about everything.
“Times have changed. I don’t care for sunflowers anymore.”
“I know times have changed.” He lowered the flowers. “What I meant to say is that I was a jerk earlier. I … shouldn’t have kissed you.” Even though, truthfully, he wasn’t sorry for the kiss.
“I shouldn’t have slapped you,” she said quietly, looking into his eyes. Her lips curved on the side. “I can’t lie—it did feel good.”
His heart lightened, feeling like he was gaining some yards.
An awkward silence widened the gap between them. Anthony swiped a hand across his forehead, feeling the sweat. “Look, Kade told me about your fiancé.” He lowered his tone. “And your dad.”
She didn’t respond, but her gaze sharpened.
“I’m so sorry. Please.” He held out the bouquet. “Take the flowers.”
For an agonizing moment, he didn’t know if she would accept them. Then she reached out and gently took them from his hand, giving them a sniff.
“They don’t smell,” he insisted quietly.
A small smile played at her lips. “They never do, but I can still hope.”
Hope sparked in his chest. This was something they used to debate.
The walls from earlier seemed to disappear for a few moments. “Thank you.” She blew out a breath. “I was sorry to hear about your accident. I’m glad you’re doing so well.”
It wasn’t much, but he would take it. Wistfully, he remembered the first night he’d kissed her. It felt so long ago … and like it could have been yesterday.
“Well, I should get back.” She touched the screen door.
“Wait,” he said, reaching out and putting a hand on the screen. “How have you been?”
Her mouth turned down. “I can’t … things are so crazy with my dad. Please, just go.”
He waited, wanting to argue, but sensing it wasn’t the time. His eyes darted to her lips. If he leaned in, he could kiss her. But everything was different. “So you’re staying here. I mean, in Dallas … you’re working for the paper?”
She shrugged. “My father’s friends with Henry Wilks, owner of the Dallas Star.”
Anthony thought of the grey-haired, grey-mustached man who kept badgering him for an exclusive. “Right.”
“He asked if I’d cover this event and a couple of the Titans games, so I agreed.” She hesitated, then met his eyes. “I know Daddy has been worried about me and that’s why Henry asked, but I won’t lie—it’s nice to have something to occupy my time.” She shrugged. “And I can use the money.”
It felt good to hear her confide in him. He wanted to ask so much more. “I’ve read some of your articles on the Elite Athletes website. You do a good job.”
Her cheeks reddened and she looked away. “Thank you.”
His heart raced and he blurted, “Have you written your novel yet?” He didn’t tell her that probably once every couple of months he would scour the Internet for a book written by Cassidy Stone. Had for ten years.
She hesitated, then pointed backward. “Look, I should really get back.”
“I’m sorry about your fiancé.”
Her expression darkened. “It’s … I can’t. I have to go.” She turned away from him, letting the screen drop into place.
Dang it! Just like that, it was all gone. All hope dashed. Game over. The Hail Mary had been thrown and it really looked like the receiver might catch the pass, but it was a total miss. He’d seen the look on her face. Like death. She was obviously grieving. His heart heavy, he trudged back to his truck, opened the door, and climbed in. He wished that would have gone differently.
He was about to back out when the front door opened and her father stepped out, putting up a hand to stop him. The other hand held a shotgun. Anthony swallowed and waited, watching him climb off the porch and walk toward his truck.
Mr. Stone opened the passenger-side door and settled in. “Calm yourself,” he said when he glanced up.
Anthony leaned back into the driver’s seat. “Mr. Stone.”
“I need to tell you a story.” He let out a long breath.
Anthony relaxed. Even when they’d been in high school and he’d first met Mr. Stone, he’d always had a story for him. Like life lesson stories. Usually, he told them to both him and Cass.
“You didn’t know Cass’s mom at all.” He hesitated. “She didn’t even know her,” he muttered. “She was so much like Cass, even in temperament, which I get a kick out of now, so much I can’t even tell ya. Anyway, it took us a couple of years to get pregnant, and so we had a lot of time together. She would just come with me to different ranches to breed and race horses. We traveled all over the world. It was like we were in this little bubble of our lives. Anyway, one time I’d said something stupid.” He let out a stuttering laugh. “We were singing a song together on the radio and we couldn’
t mesh our voices and I said, ‘What are you, tone-deaf?’”
Anthony jolted. That was pretty brutal, he thought.
Mr. Stone let out a light laugh. “Yeah, if you’re thinking I shouldn’t have said that, well, you’re right, because she wouldn’t sing for the next two years. Any time we were together listening to music or going to church choir or anything. And it was finally at the point I was begging her to forgive me, had brought her flowers, told her I was a fool because I’d figured out that our voices were so close. She was an alto and I was a tenor and we just couldn’t harmonize that well. Anyway, she said to me, ‘Harrison, I will forgive you now because I think you have hurt as much as I hurt when you said those mean words.’”
Mr. Stone put up two fingers. “Anthony, it had been two years. Two years she wouldn’t sing. Two years that I would grovel, I would beg, I would apologize.”
Anthony narrowed his eyes. “So what you’re saying is I need to put in my time.”
Mr. Stone shrugged. “Take whatever you want from my story, but …” He flashed a grin. “You hurt my baby girl, she’s not going to get over it so quickly.”
Anthony thought about the fact Mr. Stone wasn’t over it either. He sighed, feeling even worse. “Thank you for telling me.”
Mr. Stone relaxed back into the seat. “You’re welcome.”
Anthony wasn’t ready to be done talking to this man he admired. “Was her fiancé good enough for her?” As soon as the words tumbled out, he wanted to take them back.
“Kyle was a good man.” Mr. Stone said each word carefully, as if he’d been practicing them. “I’m not going to lie, there were things about him I didn’t like. One being the nature of his job made her worry all the time, but that doesn’t matter now, does it?”
“No, sir.”
Mr. Stone cleared his throat. “My daughter has been through too much in her life to put up with shenanigans. And now … my health condition. So if you’re not determined in your apology and wanting to reconcile, you can just keep them truck tires going once you leave, ya hear? ’Cause I’ll be sitting right here.” He pointed to the front porch. “Holding my shotgun. And I still got pretty good aim. And I might be a frail old man, but Betsy here is a great equalizer.” He patted the shotgun affectionately.