Her cabin was small but cozy, with a separate bedroom, a full bathroom, and a decent kitchen that was open to the living area and offered a counter with three bar stools. As the sheriff had mentioned, it was a miniature version of the house, but decorated in burgundy and grey.
After a long, hot shower, Bridget slipped into a cotton T-shirt and climbed into bed. The mattress was soft and forgiving, but she could feel the firm support, and closing her eyes she immediately began to fall asleep.
Most nights she dreamed about Caden, and most nights she would struggle to escape, and most nights she would win, but her fatigue was too great. When he came to life and meandered towards her, his dark brown, shaggy hair, falling over one eye, and his mesmerizing blue eyes promising to journey with her to the stars, she gave up the battle.
Waiting for the recall of his devouring hug that she missed so much, and the deep aching need that would sweep through her body, she saw herself standing in a lush paddock with her arms open. The grass was blindingly green, then suddenly she was spinning. The dizziness captured her, holding her in its clutches, and as she fought her way out of the cyclonic winds, his voice echoed through the tumult.
“When a cowboy loves a woman…when a cowboy loves a woman…”
Her body jerked as the tornado spat her out, and sitting bolt upright, breathless and sweating, she gazed around the dark, still room
“Why are you haunting me?” she gasped. “Why can’t I let you go? I hate you, I hate you so much.”
Dissolving into tears she fell back on the bed and clung to the pillow. As the salty wetness spilled across her face, and the painful, gnawing void engulfed her, the memory of the moment, the one that had shattered her hopeful dreams and plunged a saber into her heart, stood bright and clear in her mind’s eye.
It had been six weeks earlier, but to Bridget it still felt like yesterday. Caden had stayed the night in her modest apartment, waking her with soft kisses on her neck, his fingers lightly pinching her nipples, and his hardness pressing against her. Thrusting back, moaning her need, she had surrendered to the joy as he’d slithered into her hungry canal, and with robust strokes, and warm whispers of love, he had ridden her to an explosive, tingling, delicious climax.
She had floated through the following hours as she’d taken care of her chores around the stable, laughed with him through lunch, and later that afternoon, she’d felt his eyes on her when she’d been giving a riding lesson. She hadn’t expected him to return to the barn, and she’d been thrilled to see him. He’d waved from the fence, then sauntered off towards a shiny black pickup that had rolled up the drive.
A short time later, the girl she was teaching begged to finish early, claiming she was too tired and too hot. When it stopped being fun there was no point, so they’d called it a day, and as the girl wandered away to join her mother, Bridget had led the horse, Bogart, back to the barn.
She had heard the deep, seductive voice that was uniquely his, then the wistful tones of a woman. Her pulse ticked up. She’d been warned, she’d been begged, she’d been told more times than she could remember, don’t go out with Caden. He’s a cheat. He’ll break your heart.
The ground was soft beneath her feet, even the hoof falls from Bogart walking calmly behind her made little noise. It was a hot, bright day, and moving into the shadow of the barn it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. A dark-haired girl she’d not seen before, her eyes closed, was leaning against Caden’s chest with her head in the crook of his shoulder. His bare muscled arms were around her, and he was stroking her hair.
Bridget froze.
She couldn’t breathe.
She couldn’t move.
She couldn’t cry out.
It was Bogart who broke the spell. Ready for his saddle to be off, and hungry for some hay, he’d nudged her. It was a gentle push, a polite request to keep moving. Her body was shaking, tears were burning at the back of her eyes, and her stomach was wrapping itself into painful knots.
Barely able to control the desire to race across the barn and rip the girl from Caden’s hold, she’d backed away into the harsh light of the sun and moved to the side of the building. A few minutes passed and the girl had left, with Caden following a minute later. Trembling, and fighting the overwhelming emotion, Bridget had quickly finished grooming Bogart, ducking out of sight whenever Caden called her name, then told the barn manager she was coming down with a migraine. Jumping in her car she’d sped to a tavern on the outskirts of town, staying there until late in the evening.
Caden had called and emailed, but she’d ignored all his attempts at contact. Two days later, when he’d finally caught her at her apartment, Bridget’s deep hurt had become intense anger. She’d allowed him to enter, then exploded, hurling words at him as fast as they formed, refusing to listen to his excuses, then ordering him out, she’d literally pushed him on to her front porch. She was about to slam the door when he lunged forward and put his foot against it.
“Bridget, you’re makin’ a big mistake. Why won’t you let me explain?”
“You’ll serenade me with your sweet words and you’ll weave your charm right around my heart,” she railed at him. “I’m not going to let you make a fool of me. No, Caden, you blew it.”
“Stop yellin’ at me girl, it’s not what you think. If anyone’s blowin’ somethin’ here, it’s you, right now.”
“Go away. I never want to see you again,” she hissed. “How much clearer can I be?”
“You,” he said in a harsh whisper, leaning forward and shaking his finger, “you need a good spankin’. You’re bein’ totally unreasonable.”
“WHAT?”
“You’re throwin’ a tantrum.”
“Fuck you, asshole!”
Kicking his shin, making him jerk back his leg, she’d slammed the door. She’d fallen back against it trying to catch her breath, but then he’d unexpectedly called something out to her, something he’d whispered in her ear several times before.
“Don’t forget, Bridget, when a cowboy loves a woman…”
Those last words had stayed with her ever since, floating around her head, popping up at the oddest moments, and often echoing through her dreams.
Switching on her bedside lamp, she slipped from the sheets, and padding into the bathroom she splashed her face with cold water. Staring at her reflection, she saw bleary, red-rimmed eyes looking back at her.
“Time and distance is what you need, Bridget,” she muttered, “it’s the only cure. You’ve managed to create the distance, and in time this pain will stop.”
Ambling back to bed she managed to fall asleep, and as usual, the second time around there were no dreams, just the peace of restful darkness. When the birds outside her window tweeted her awake, she rolled over and gazed at the clock on the nightstand. It was seven-forty a.m. With a yawn and a stretch she focused on the day ahead.
Having worked on dude ranches in the past, she knew what to expect. She’d be taken to the barn, introduced to the horses, their habits and idiosyncrasies explained, then put to work cleaning the tack, learning the feeding regimen, and finding her way around. This, however, was unlike any dude ranch she’d ever seen, and as she pulled on clean jeans and a shirt, she threw away her preconceptions.
Wandering into the compact kitchen hoping to find a coffee pot, she was shocked to discover the cupboards were fully stocked. Various cereals lined the shelves, along with tea and coffee, sugar, canned goods, and even a package of chocolate chip cookies. The refrigerator had all the essentials. Milk, butter, eggs, cheese, tomatoes, a lettuce and salad dressing. On the counter she found a list of everything the cabin contained, and at the bottom of the sheet, she learned she could checkmark whatever items she needed replenishing, and they’d be delivered the following day.
“This is unbelievable,” she murmured as she made herself some granola and started the kettle.
After her breakfast, and two cups of coffee, she headed up the winding pathway and into the back door of th
e large house. She’d seen the kitchen only briefly the night before, and as she wandered in she was seriously impressed. Stainless steel gleamed at her, Viking appliances lined the walls, and hanging above the center island was a chandelier of gleaming copper pots and pans. Three people in white aprons were bustling about, but a young man with a crew cut spotted her and walked forward extending his hand.
“Hello, you must be Bridget,” he said with a warm smile. “I’m Albert, the chef. This is Penny and Julia, my assistants.”
The two young women nodded their greeting, then continued their chopping and mixing.
“If you run out of supplies you can always come here, but you have to check with one of us before taking anything.”
“Thanks, this place is something else,” she declared, “and I don’t just mean this incredible kitchen.”
“I’ve only been here six months, but I love it. The head honchos take care of the staff almost as well as they take care of their guests. They want everyone to feel appreciated. A happy staff makes for happy guests, that’s what Richard says.”
“I’m supposed to be meeting him right now,” Bridget said checking her watch. “I’d better scurry. Can you please point me in the direction of his office?”
“Through the dining room and down the hall to your left, first door on the right. Don’t worry, Richard’s great. He’ll make you feel welcome, and you can ask him anything. He has no problem talking about this place. He’s very proud of what he’s done here.”
“Thanks, Albert. That’s good to know. I guess I’ll see you later.”
In one of the few articles she had read about the ranch, it had been described as a luxury escape for those with hefty wallets. When she’d accepted the position it wouldn’t have mattered if it was a weatherworn cabin. All she’d cared about was that it was far away and she could start immediately, but as she moved through the artfully decorated rooms, she realized the beauty surrounding her was good for her soul. It was uplifting and cheery, and it was making her smile.
Finding the thickly carpeted hallway, she spotted the door with a brass plaque announcing the name, Richard Tate, and gently knocked.
“Come in.”
Pushing it open she stepped inside and found herself surrounded by historic art prints of the old west, and bronze sculptures of cowboys and horses. The room was forest green with white trim, and elegantly masculine.
“Bridget, such a pleasure,” Richard Tate said warmly, standing up from behind his impressive desk.
He was a large man, tall, wide, and slightly overweight, and Bridget guessed him to be in his fifties.
“Mr. Tate, thanks for the opportunity. This place is beautiful.”
“Thank you. We do our best. Call me Richard,” he said warmly, “everyone does. Please, have a seat.”
Sitting in one of the two chairs in front of the desk, she watched him settle back down, take a manila folder, and pull out a sheet of paper.
“Is your cabin all right? Is there anything you need?”
“The cabin is lovely, and I was so surprised to find all the supplies.”
“We want you to be comfortable and happy here. It’s important for you to be able to hibernate if you need to, and have what you need. If there’s something you want just write it on the list and it will be picked up, short of caviar,” he joked.
“I feel very privileged to be here. I had no idea it would be like this.”
“We rarely have staff vacancies, and we’re particular about who works here, and you, Bridget, came highly recommended. I’m sure you’ll prove to be a valuable addition to our family.”
“May I ask, how did you hear about me?”
“Through a friend of a friend,” he said vaguely. “We’re relaxed here, and if you have any questions don’t be shy. These are the rules. They must be followed for your safety, and the safety of everyone else. Take a look at them, keep them with you for a while in case any doubts arise.”
“Thank you, I’ll go over them carefully,” she said glancing at the list as he handed it over.
“The guests, they are the reason we’re here,” he continued. “They come to escape, to relax, to be with the horses or play tennis, whatever, and not worry about people bothering them. We have very little cell service, and no internet. You probably didn’t see it, but there is a landline phone in your cabin. It’s in the armoire with your television.”
“You have televisions here? I was exhausted when I got in last night and I went straight to bed. This morning I was so engrossed with everything I found in the kitchen, I never did get around to opening the armoire.”
“Yes, we have televisions, it’s a bit surprising, I know. That’s the one thing the guests do not wish to be without. We have a large satellite dish behind the house up on the ridge. Do you have any questions?”
“If I want to go into town, is there a taxi service? How does that work?”
“We have several cars here, just check with Celeste, she’s our general manager and her office is just a couple of doors down. I should also mention, and this will probably surprise you, I don’t have much to do with the barn, that’s Max’s domain, so he’ll go over your schedule.”
“Is that where I should go now, down to the barn?”
“Today I want you to wander the grounds, move through the house, learn where everything is. Yes, of course, go to the barn, but it’s important you’re familiar with the entire property, inside and out, so if a guest asks you for directions, or requests something, you’ll know the answer.”
“I understand. Since I’m here, I’ll start inside.”
“We’re usually solidly booked, but we close the first four days of every month for maintenance. We give the place a thorough cleaning and take care of the things we can’t while we’re accommodating people. You’ve arrived in the middle of it, which will give you plenty of time to familiarize yourself before the first guests of the month arrive.”
“Good timing.”
“Yes, it is. I try to plan it this way when someone new is joining us, and I’m glad it worked out that way for you. Tomorrow the trainer we use to keep us supplied with horses is coming in.”
“You switch out horses?”
“We can have a dozen horses here comfortably, but we own twice that many. Our regular guests have their favorites and they request them, so he brings them in and takes others out. Sometimes a guest falls in love with a horse and wants to buy it. That happens more often than you might think.”
“He must be close by to do that so often.”
“He has a place about an hour from here. He has an excellent team there. I understand he has about four or five cowboys working for him. Tomorrow he’s bringing back several of our horses that he took back there for some tuning up, as he calls it, along one of his own that he wants to ride on our trails. Apparently the horse is a former western pleasure show horse. A champion, I understand. If the trainer is amenable, would you like to try him out?”
“I’d love it,” she beamed. “What’s his name?”
“Valentino. His former owner named him. He was her pet, according to Caden.”
“S,sorry, did you say, Caden?” she asked, her heart leaping out of her chest and landing on the desk in front of her.
“Yes, Caden Price. He’s about the best horseman I ever met, not that I’ve met that many,” he chuckled. “I guess that about wraps it up. Lunch is served at noon. I’d like you to be there so I can officially welcome you.”
“Yes, thanks, Richard. I’ll see you there.”
Slowly rising from her chair, her pulse pounding in her temples, Bridget turned and walked from the room.
NO! NO! How could this have possibly happened? Caden? Coming here? Tomorrow? This is a bad dream, it has to be. Fuck!
CHAPTER THREE
Late the following morning, Caden Price rolled the horse van down the long, picturesque driveway into Dudley’s Dude Ranch. He’d been unable to settle the nervous rumbling in his stomach through the
hour-long drive, and as the large, two-story, familiar colonial house came into view, he found himself doubting what he’d done.
“Maybe this was a huge mistake,” he muttered, “but I can’t let her go on thinkin’ I’d messed around. I can’t. I have to get through to her. Such a stubborn girl, though, geez.”
Driving past the house and following the road down to the stables, Caden saw Max waiting for him, along with a couple of the grooms. As usual the place was immaculate, and slowly pulling to a stop he glanced at the monitor above his head. The camera inside the van gave him constant surveillance of his precious cargo, and they all looked well and happy.
“Hey, Max, everything okay?” he asked through his open window.
“Yep, no problems. I hear you’re stayin’ overnight,” Max remarked.
“I think so,” Caden replied as he jumped from the cab. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a break, and I couldn’t think of any place better than this.”
“You got that right,” Max grinned. “Let’s take a look at this new boy you were tellin’ me about.”
“He’s a beauty, and a real gentleman.”
Opening the doors and lowering the ramp, the two men moved inside and began unloading the horses, handing them off to the grooms at the bottom of the ramp. Valentino, though, Caden kept, and lightly holding the lead rope he walked the horse around, watching the handsome chestnut lift his nose in the air and whinny.
“That’s a real nice lookin’ horse,” Max said admiring the muscled, gleaming, copper-coated gelding.
“So easy to ride, real smooth, and nothin’ bothers him. Just a treat. I picked him up from a girl who’s headin’ off to college overseas. Broke her heart to let him go, but she’ll be able to visit him when she wants. Most important thing for her was findin’ him the best home she could. I was real complimented when she said that was me.”
“Why’d you bring him here? Does Richard wanna buy him?”
“No, I promised her I wouldn’t sell him, and I’m gonna keep my word. He’s just had a tough time adjustin’. I swear he’s missin’ her. I thought maybe a change of scenery might help.”
When a Cowboy Loves a Woman Page 2