Texas Wide Open

by KC Klein

  Cole turned and threw the half-filled jug in the air. His boot made a satisfying thud as it kicked the plastic. The gallon broke, spraying water over the dusty ground. A smile tickled his lips. With sick pleasure, he imagined he had over a hundred gallons to kick.

  But he wanted more than just an exercise in futility. He wanted . . . the image of red flames licking high along the peeling green walls of his barn played out in vivid technicolor. He could almost feel the heat and smell the burnt hay. Some people would’ve called him crazy at wanting to piss everything he’d worked for away. But then again, they hadn’t lived his life. And maybe he had lost his marbles, because only crazy people wanted to throw their heads back and laugh at a life that was in no way funny. Laugh for the first time in—well, hell. When was the last time?

  A warm memory trickled in, of sweet vanilla, bright yellow days, and Katie. It always came back to Katie.

  It was before Prom, before the kiss, before everything changed. Katie and Cole had sweated their butts off working in the stables. He’d told Katie if she helped him push-start his truck, he’d take her into town to get a chocolate-dipped cone, her favorite. He could still see the way she looked sitting in the passenger seat, bare feet propped up on his dash, and toenails painted a funky red. Her hair was pushed into a messy ponytail, her skin covered in a light sheen of sweat and dirt. She’d forgotten to use sunscreen, and the skin across the bridge of her nose and cheeks had turned pink under her freckles.

  Shania Twain crackled on the ancient radio, and Katie turned up the volume. She sang using the cone as a microphone, dancing as much as she could in the seat. She hadn’t cared she was as on key as a morning rooster, but just laughed. And when Katie laughed . . .

  She had a wide mouth, almost too big to be pretty, but somehow it fit her. Her mouth formed a wide O, and her whole body would get in on the action, moving back and forth, enjoying the ride. Her head would be thrown back and her eyes would get all warm and moist. He couldn’t help himself, like some carefree fool on summer break, he’d laughed right along with her. It was contagious. Katie was contagious.

  Cole slipped his thumb through his stretched-out belt loop and stared off into the horizon. If he was honest with himself, really honest, he’d admit everything came back to Katie. It always did. The foul mood he’d been in for months, the reason he kept pouring his life’s blood into the ranch.

  He hadn’t gone to Katie’s graduation. He knew his absence had hurt her, and it tore him up inside, knowing he’d caused her pain. At the time, he’d thought it was a good way of sending her a message, but now he couldn’t remember what he’d meant to say.

  The sun beat down on him like a hammer, and he closed his eyes against the brightness. He needed to get back to work, stop feeling sorry for himself. He had ranch hands to pay and horses’ mouths to feed, and if he didn’t stop questioning his every decision, he’d lose his mind. Or maybe it was too late for that. A person had to be insane to try to break into the tight-knit industry of horse breeding without deep pockets or a pedigree to back him.

  It took time for a breeder to earn a reputation. His horses had to be given a chance, and then prove themselves as workhorses. He had some buyers, but needed a few more years, and please Lord, a few more colts or fillies before he could charge what he needed to in order to drag the business into the black.

  His life always came down to two things: time and money. The first, he never had enough of, and the other slipped through his fingers faster than he could last living hand to mouth. At the thought of food, his stomach growled. Cole placed another solid kick to the plastic jug and sent it flying toward his front steps.

  The sound of a low sympathetic whistle had Cole turning to watch Jett walk up the drive. He hadn’t heard his truck, but was surprised at how his mood lifted as he watched his best friend swagger up with a six-pack tucked under his arm.

  “Wow.” Jett whistled again. “Well, I’d say you’ve won that round.” He toed the plastic remains with his boot. “It’s dead all right, but I’d have to say it suffered a cleaner death than that truck of yours.”

  Jett’s open smile held no malice, and for the first time since Cole had woken, he felt himself take a mental step back from the edge he was teetering on. Jett, as always, seemed cool and calm as if the heat had no hold on him. Unlike Cole, Jett’s crisp white shirt still had creases from being freshly washed and pressed. His designer jeans were dust free and his black boots still held a hint of polish. Of course, unlike Cole, Jett hadn’t been up since before dawn doing hard manual labor and taking care of a horse ranch. More than likely he’d just woken up, and was well rested after a night of partying and women.

  Jett threw him a beer and Cole caught it midair. “Tough day?”

  Cole shook his head. “Tough life.”

  Jett tsked as if disappointed. “It’s all in your perspective, Cole. If you think life is hard, then it’s gonna be hard.”

  “Shut up, Jett,” Cole said with a growl. He was in no mood to hear Jett’s crap about how life was one big party and things would all work out if a person would just put the right spin on it all. The reality was sometimes life just sucked. And it was easier to chill with a positive spin when a man knew where his next meal was coming from.

  “What’s eatin’ you? I show up with free beer and not even a hey, thanks man.”

  Cole let his scowl relax. “Sorry, bad day.”

  It wasn’t Jett’s fault he’d been born on the right side of the tracks. He’d always helped Cole out where he could, sent business his way. Had been there for him when his father had died; had been there for Nikki when his mother had.

  “That’s all right.” Jett rarely held a grudge against him for long. “Just worried about you is all. I’ve known you forever, and I’ve never seen you like this before.”

  Cole cracked open his can and drained the contents in a few gulps. The beer was so smooth and cool going down, he immediately reached for another. Jett tossed him one, then rested against the truck’s front bumper.

  “Hey, I have an idea. Let’s go out tonight. It’s been forever since you and I went to the steak house. And really, there’s nothing in life a rare rib-eye and a good lay won’t fix. Besides, I owe you dinner. That was the bet over the game last week, right?” Jett readjusted his hat. “Whatever happened with that Veronica chick? Last time I saw her, she sure had the hots for you. You were all she could talk about.”

  Cole rubbed his forehead and groaned. Remembering the redhead he’d walked out on because of that desperate call from Katie made his head hurt.

  “That bad, huh?”

  “Worse.”

  “Dang, how much worse can it be than screwing up a sure thing? I mean even you could’ve pulled that off.” Jett sighed and took a drink from his can. “Is it Nikki? How is she?”

  Cole’s jaw tightened. He shifted his gaze toward Jett, then looked forward again.

  Jett rolled his shoulders back. “Do you know if she is seeing anyone?”

  Cole turned on him. “What the hell, Jett? Why do you care?”

  “What? No.” Jett shook his head. “It’s not like that. I was just wondering if that was why you’re so bent out of shape. Is it the ranch then?”

  Cole grunted.

  “Well, that leaves Katie. How is she? I heard she’s looking pretty good. Was thinking about asking her out my—”

  Jett didn’t finish his sentence, which was good since Cole already had his fist wrapped around Jett’s shirt. The collar pulled tight, cutting off Jett’s air supply. Jett’s face turned red, but that didn’t stop him from talking. “Christ, Logan, I was just kiddin’. I know how you feel about Katie. I was just trying to get a reaction. Didn’t know it had gotten so bad.”

  Cole released Jett and stepped back. Jett was right. When had it gotten so bad?

  Jett straightened out his shirt, smoothing the wrinkles away. “Guess I picked the wrong day for a social visit. I just wanted to stop by and ask if you were coming to my sister�
��s wedding. Apparently a seating chart is ranked right up there with a presidential campaign. Figures, since both cost about the same.”

  Cole groaned in earnest this time. “Jett, come on. You know I hate those things. Black-tie affairs are not my thing.”

  Jett finished his beer. Crushing the can, he threw it into the bed of Cole’s truck. “Fine, since I am such a good friend I’ll make your excuses to Mother, but you’re gonna be missing all the drama. Lauren’s insisting on a nonreligious ceremony and asked if I could marry them. I got my license in the mail this morning.”

  Cole spewed his beer all over. “You? Do you even believe in the sanctity of marriage?”

  Jett grinned. “I believe in it enough to want my sisters to have the sanctity of marriage.”

  “You do know the women you sleep with are someone’s sisters.”

  “The thought has crossed my mind, but rarely.”

  Cole shook his head. “Christ, I bet your mother is having a fit.”

  “To say the least. There are some benefits to being an orphan.”

  “Or there’s finally a benefit to not being an Avery.” Cole smiled.

  Jett laughed. “Maybe. By the way, I talked to Ted the other day. He’s willing to sell you that Ford pickup at a bang-up price. You still have the money, right? In the bank?”

  Cole’s throat tightened, and he immediately wished he hadn’t drunk on an empty stomach. He couldn’t tell Jett where his money was really going. To say the words out loud would make his crappy life real, and he wasn’t ready to face reality quite yet. Instead, he turned and watched his two prize mares trot around the arena.

  “All-right-ee then,” Jett drawled, breaking the extended silence. Jett opened another beer with a crisp snap. “What’re you doing, Cole? I just don’t get it. You hate this ranch. Yeah, you don’t come right out and say it, but it’s written all over your face. Why don’t you sell it and come work for my family? I’m sure my dad could get you in somewhere.”

  Cole turned and smiled. That’s what he liked about Jett. To him opportunity was always just over the horizon, and a bad day could only get better. That, and the fact that Jett’s overfondness for talk could make a one-sided conversation seem mutual. “If you’re gonna stand there and flap your gums, maybe you can start the truck and help me figure out why she’s running hot.”

  Jett groaned. “I am not getting this shirt greasy. I just got my order back from my tailor, and I think he is sending his daughter to college on what I’m paying him.”

  “No problem.” Cole smirked. “You can borrow one of mine. I got four on clearance at Walmart.”

  The look of horror on Jett’s face was priceless.

  Cole decided not to leave him hanging. “Fine, can you just start the engine?”

  Jett walked over and slid into the driver’s seat. After a few minutes of fiddling on Cole’s part, the engine sputtered to life. Cole added more water and prayed that the slow oil leak was . . . real slow. He slammed the hood closed and motioned to Jett to cut the motor. Cole wiped his hands on his ruined shirt and threw it toward his sagging front steps. By unspoken agreement, both men walked over to the fence and leaned against the peeling wood.

  Two chestnuts, a mother and daughter, stood in the far corner nuzzling. The day was still hot, but the sun was finally creeping toward the horizon. Cole sipped his second beer more slowly, relishing the moment, since there were about six more hours of work ahead of him.

  “I’m serious, Cole.” Jett never let silence drag on for more than ten minutes, but by Cole’s count it had only been a blessed seven.

  Jett faced him, determined to have his say. “This ranch is gonna kill you. Don’t you ever think about how easy it would be to just walk away? Start fresh?”

  And all of a sudden the reasons for staying deserted him. His father was dead, he’d buried his mother, and his sister might be a lost cause. So why stay? Cole scraped his palm over his thick five o’clock shadow. The friction was as irritating as it was pleasurable, and for the first time he spoke the truth. “Every day. Every. Damn. Day.”

  Chapter 13

  Katie lay on top of her comforter and watched the ceiling fan lazily move through the thick air. The last few months had been tough. Since the kiss on Prom night, her relationship with Cole had been strained.

  The last few weeks there’d been groans from him and exaggerated sighs from her, but the other day things came to a boil. Cole had snapped at her. She’d been helping to wash one of the new stud stallions. There’d been some comment about her not listening, not doing what she was told and forging ahead, regardless of the consequences. He’d told her she had no business taking care of the horses if she wasn’t going to respect him as her boss. There’d been a few other words hurled back and forth, and it wasn’t long before it escalated to a full-out fight.

  “Screw you!” Katie had yelled. For emphasis she threw the cloth she’d been using into the bucket of soapy water by her feet. Water came up and sprayed her neck and arms. “I’m out here working to save your butt and this is the thanks I get?”

  Cole’s face had gotten a hardened look; the muscle in his jaw twitched. “I don’t need you to save my anything. And if you don’t watch that mouth of yours, I’ll take that rag and wash it out for you.”

  Speechless in her fury, she watched as he’d turned and walked away. Typical Cole, he thought the conversation ended when he wanted it to.

  Cole had left without another word, and yet there was so much more Katie had wanted to say. She wanted to tell him he couldn’t dismiss her anymore, and she was sick of being ignored. Instead, Katie had calmly walked out, but not before she kicked the bucket of water across three stalls.

  Katie hadn’t been able to avoid the stables altogether. Star was there, and she still had to take care of her, but now the silence between Cole and Katie was worse than the arguing.

  Katie rolled over on her side to check the clock on the bedside table—11:42 P.M. The house was quiet, her father having gone to bed long ago. Before he had kissed her good night, he’d joked with her. “Tomorrow’s the big one-eight,” he said. “You should check for gray hairs in the morning.”

  Katie had rolled her eyes and kissed his weathered cheek. Now eighteen wasn’t tomorrow; it was less than twenty minutes away.

  Cole hadn’t come to her graduation, and that alone told her everything she needed to know for tonight. If he’d showed up with the half grin he reserved especially for her, she wouldn’t have had the courage to do what she wanted to next.

  After her graduation ceremony she’d chosen to come home and have a quiet dinner with Pa, instead of going out with her friends. Katie had noticed for the first time the lines around her father’s face and the redness in his features that never went away. Her father never dated, that she was aware of. His whole existence was centered on her, and soon she would be leaving for college. He’d locked himself away from love, from anyone else, and Katie saw his future stretching out into years made up of long, lonely days.

  Pa’s life was not going to be hers. He might be too scared to let anyone else in after her mother died, but Katie wasn’t going to let fear rule her life. She knew what the fighting with Cole was really about, but now one of his most lethal weapons was disarmed.

  The clock shone 11:43. Close enough. She rolled out of bed. But her hands trembled as she pulled on her jeans. For half a second she hesitated, then dismissed the weakness. With her decision made, Katie slipped on the infamous white shirt, but this time sans the bra.

  It was hard to go slow when so much was at stake. Her bare feet made soft sounds on the wooden floor as she crept out the back door. Heart racing, Katie shoved her feet into her boots and finally took off at a run.

  Every star was out, her personal night-lights, showing her the way home—to Cole. Her breathing was loud in the dark blue hush of the night, but that was nothing compared to the pounding of her heart. She paused at the barn door, one hand on the butterflies in her stomach and the other r
esting on the crisscrossed two-by-fours. Light glowed from under the crack between the chipped wood door and smooth concrete.

  He was here. Only one person would be so close to midnight. The simple fact of his presence banished all doubt from Katie’s mind. Cole waited for her. A breath for faith, a coat of lip balm for courage, and Katie boldly opened the door.

  Her boots crunched on the soft dirt and cinders beneath. A single harsh light shone from the tallest beam, while the rest of the barn was kept in darkness. Down the wide center aisle, between the stalls, was Cole’s truck. The truck she’d push-started and cursed right alongside him. The one that sported a sun-bleached paint job, balding tires, and was in desperate need of a one-way visit to the junkyard.

  Leaning over the propped hood was Cole. Outside there’d been a light breeze, but inside the barn was warm. Light shimmered over his well-defined back, skin slicked with sweat. His oil-stained jeans hung carelessly low below a white waistband of cotton briefs and ended bunched around dirty boots.

  In all the years Katie had known Cole, she’d never seen him shirtless. He’d always kept himself decent in the barn by following his unwritten dress code, even during the stickiest of summers. But he must’ve broken the rule outside when she wasn’t around, because his back was as dark as his arms.

  Though it was close to midnight, her entry hadn’t startled him. Cole simply turned his head and peered at her under one arm. His blue gaze traveled her form, and then he faced forward, bracing his arms wide on the frame of the truck.

  Icy fear killed the butterflies. For one moment she thought Cole wouldn’t turn around, and that she’d made a mistake. Desperate, she stepped forward.

  “Don’t,” Cole whispered.

  With his one word her motions stilled. His voice said it all. The battle he fought was within himself. She could do no more. He’d have to choose.