Unbridled Trails

by Bonnie R. Paulson

  “Really? As in no meat?” He turned his head to see her from the side, curiosity instead of judgment on his chiseled features.

  She shook her head with a smile. “I know, it’s weird up here, but I’m not a fan of eating meat. I’ll do dairy and even fish, so I guess I’m really a pescatarian, but vegetarian is easier for people to get. Is that a problem?”

  He drew the horse onto the more level trail and evened out into a comfortable pace. “Not at all. I’ll bring something for both of us to enjoy.”

  They reached her truck in minutes. The other car gone from the parking area.

  Kyle helped Sherri dismount the horse and he followed, moving to stand beside her rig while she unlocked the door.

  He placed a hand on the frame of the driver door and stopped her from opening it. “I like you, Sherri. I hope to get to know you better.” The tender way he said it and the sudden ruddiness to his skin gave away his embarrassment and discomfort.

  And by Jove, Sherri’s jaw dropped. What in Sam’s hell was going on? Was it a competition or something between the cousins? Why else would two gorgeous men like Kyle and Ryland ask her out?

  She snapped her mouth shut and nodded shortly. “I’m looking forward to it.” Great, now she sounded as formal as she could get.

  He tilted his hat at her, remounting the horse and riding off at a slight amble.

  Sherri didn’t know how to date one and then another. She wasn’t designed for multiple boyfriends. Heck, she’d never had the problem of more than one guy liking her and he didn’t count since he was pretty much her brother.

  She’d have to call Rachiah and see what she thought. If anyone could wrap a handful of men around her finger and make them like it, it was her.

  Dang, Sherri wasn’t prepared for this.

  What if Kyle cried when she took Tommy out to feed him? She didn’t want to make a grown man cry.

  But stranger things had happened.

  Chapter 10

  Kyle

  Steak was pretty much the only meat Kyle was familiar with. Sherri and her vegetarian thing had thrown him for a loop. Seafood seemed to be a go-ahead, but in the middle of Montana, what did that mean?

  Kyle had all week to worry about his food choice for Friday. Every time he passed Ryland he couldn’t help smiling smugly at his cousin.

  Until Thursday night when Ryland disappeared right after their late shift – about eight.

  Ryland didn’t get back to the bunk until well after one in the morning.

  Kyle was certain of the time because he paced by the clock in the bunk kitchenette well past midnight. He’d memorized the size and shape of the floor pattern as well as the annoying pause in every fifth tick of the second hand on the clock.

  The next morning, he watched Ryland whistle his way through the breakfast line and claim a seat across from Kyle to eat.

  Drinking half his coffee, Kyle ignored the burning sting as it coursed down his throat. When he spoke, an extra hoarseness coarsened his words. “You were out late last night.”

  Eyes sparkling with amusement, Ryland looked up from his hashbrowns he shook salt on. “What are you, my mother?”

  How did Kyle respond? He couldn’t necessarily press for more information – at least not without sounding like, well, like Ryland suggested – his mother.

  Instead, he shrugged, picking at his plate with his fork. He didn’t even care what was on it. “Nah, I’m just curious.”

  Damon leaned over his plate, poking into the air with his rolled up pancake. “I bet you were out with that girl, what’s her name?”

  Ryland grinned, leaning back and drinking his orange juice. “Don’t worry about it, guys. I had fun last night. That’s all you need to know.” He winked and glanced around at the rest of the small hall area. “Hey, where’s Nate?”

  Their joviality faded. Ryland sat forward, leaning his forearms on the table edge. He played with the whorls in the plate pattern with the handle of his knife. “From what I learned last night, Emma isn’t doing well. She’s extremely tired and can’t stand for more than a few minutes at a time. Nate took her to Seattle to get some testing done, but they’re not sure what to hope for.”

  “Maybe she’s pregnant.” Damon opened his hand, putting a positive spin on Emma’s plight.

  A different outcome that would be great for everyone was exactly what Kyle needed to hear. He slapped the table. “Yeah, maybe she’s pregnant. That’d be great.”

  “Would it? I don’t think she can because of all the radiation and stuff growing up, but maybe.” Ryland shrugged, pasting a smile over his worry.

  How did Ryland know all those facts? Had he been spending more time with Nate? Not possible with Nate in Seattle. He would have to hang out with someone closer to the picture. Would that nameless person be Sherri?

  More than concern over Emma’s health ate at Kyle’s gut.

  Nerves over his date that night welled inside him. Excitement had overridden anything anxious until right then with the possibility that Ryland had spent time with her the night before, despite Kyle’s best efforts to ruin those plans.

  What if she dated both of them and decided Kyle wasn’t... Kyle shook his head. Wait, just wait. Don’t go getting ahead of yourself.

  “What are you so serious about?” Ryland scowled at Kyle, his previous good humor faded at the conversation about Emma.

  Kyle frowned. “Emma. I want her to be safe.” And I want Sherri off your radar. But he shoved a bite of peppers and sausage into his mouth before his desire to speak his mind overrode his instincts to keep his opinions to himself.

  Ryland polished off the rest of his breakfast and stood, clearing his plate. “You have today off, right, Kyle? Is Jareth taking over?” He paused beside Kyle, looking down at him.

  “No, Jareth is still on his honeymoon. I was going to ask if you’d mind covering for me.” Kyle wasn’t, but maybe giving Ryland some responsibility would be a good way to keep him in hand.

  Ryland scoffed. “Yeah, ‘cause I’m the first choice of everyone, right?” He narrowed his gaze at Kyle. “What are you up to, Darby?”

  “Nothing. I’m off to find the best seafood I can in this area.” He nodded, standing himself.

  Damon called out after him. “Rocky Mountain oysters. Get those.”

  Kyle ignored the men’s laughter as it followed him from the room. The Johnson brothers could sometimes be more trouble than they were worth. But Rocky Mountain oysters... maybe they were some kind of fresh water mussel or something.

  High-tailing it out of the ranch before he was snagged to work for the day, Kyle rumbled into Taylor Falls in Jareth’s old brown Ford. Usually on a ranch, Kyle didn’t need a vehicle, he just chose to stay on premise and work hard or ride horses. Nothing calmed him faster or longer than just enjoying the God-given world he lived in.

  The woman at the grocery counter looked at him kind of odd when he requested two pounds of Rocky Mountain oysters, but she wrapped them up and gave him strict instructions on how to cook them. Thank goodness for that, because he had no idea what he was doing. He couldn’t get over the fact that there weren’t any shells. Who knew there were mussels out there without a shell?

  He picked up a Caesar salad kit – Sherri should be able to eat that with the anchovies in the dressing. He hoped so, anyway.

  As he approached the door, the woman at the counter called out to him. “Did you get a sauce for the oysters?” He shook his head and she pointed toward the aisle closest to him. “Grab the sriracha, it has a nice heat but won’t ruin the experience.”

  Kyle grabbed the first bottle he came across and approached the counter again, but half-way there she waved him on. “It’s on me. You have an interesting night ahead of you.” She winked and pointed at the bag in his hand. “Those are supposed to be great aphrodisiacs.”

  He blushed and nodded his head, mumbling his thanks as he ducked out the door.

  An aphrodisiac. He didn’t want Sherri to think he expected that f
rom her. Especially not on their first date. She had an innocence about her that reminded him of Ruby which made him want to protect her, but something about the set in her shoulders suggested she didn’t want to be saved by anyone. Either way, she didn’t deserve to be thought of like a piece of tail.

  The fact that Guy had treated her like that when Kyle couldn’t see her as anything but a person with value really irked him. He viewed her that way because she was.

  At the entrance to the reservation, Kyle pulled over.

  He needed a minute to gather himself.

  Had Sherri been with Ryland the night before? Ryland was a smooth operator and usually charmed his way into second and third base with the girls he chased after. He wasn’t the type of man who strutted either. If he got more than that, he never bragged about it.

  In fact, the more Kyle thought about it, none of the Montana Trail cousins kissed and talked about it. Pride welled in his chest. At least they had some class.

  He hung his head and breathed deep. Crap, why was he so dang nervous?

  A rap of something metal on his window jerked his head upright.

  M.T. stared at him through the glass, his eyebrow cocked. The feather in his hair was more ominous with its black shiny contours and long tip. He wore a loose tank top that displayed molded muscles even Kyle had to admit were a bit intimidating.

  Kyle hadn’t even considered that he might be doing something he shouldn’t. He rolled down the window and smiled. “How goes it, M.T.?”

  “It’d be going fine, if you’d tell me why you’re parked in front of the lodge. Truck problems or something?” M.T. eyed the truck like he wouldn’t be surprised, if the jalopy had broken down. “I can give you a ride into town. I’m supposed to run to the nursery and get some ladybugs for the aphids on my mother’s pear trees.”

  “I’m, well, I’m heading in to see Sherri. I promised her dinner as a thanks for helping with a... uh, a bug problem at the Jonesy ranch. Make sure she’s doing okay since that guy bothered her.” Why was he lying?

  Well, not lying, more like stretching the truth, but something to the glint in M.T.’s dark eyes told him to keep it sounding platonic. Sounding simpler than it was.

  But most likely simpler would be best.

  M.T. glared. “Yeah, Sherri’s great. Why don’t you get along then? I’ll stop by there later to make sure she’s alright. I’d rather not see you there.” In other words, be gone.

  Not that M.T.’s bluntness could be taken as subtlety on any level.

  Kyle nodded, the brim of his hat chopping through his vision of M.T. and then returning him back to normal. “Well, like I said, it’s just a thank-you dinner. You’re welcome to join us.” He lifted the brown bag from the seat beside him. “We’re having Rocky Mountain oysters. I hear they’re delicious.”

  Furrowing his brow, M.T. shot his gaze from the bag to Kyle’s face to the bag and back. He chose not to reply but walked to his own truck with slow, steady strides. His broad shoulders enhanced the thickness to his biceps and Kyle was just secure enough to accept that the man’s muscles were daunting and more than capable of pulverizing Kyle’s bones.

  Kyle shifted the truck into drive and crept into the boundaries of the reservation. Like the burning haze of a laser, Kyle could have sworn M.T.’s gaze bore into the back of his neck as he drove.

  Reaching the little cabin, Kyle breathed deeply in relief. But her little truck wasn’t there and he really didn’t want to be caught by M.T. like Kyle was lurking or something.

  He shut off the truck and climbed from the cab, grabbing his items. If he had to, he’d wait in the small fenced-in backyard. He knocked on the door, glancing behind him like the Redhawk gang watched him from behind the trees or the lilac bushes on the corner of the street.

  No answer and no noise from inside. He couldn’t return to the truck. He couldn’t take that chance. He tried the knob, even though what single girl wouldn’t lock her door, right?

  But the knob turned and the door swung open with little provocation. Kyle sighed in relief. He’d rather get caught by Sherri inside than by M.T. outside.

  Besides, he could prepare the meal while he waited for her to show up.

  He had some frying to do.

  ~

  The Rocky Mountain oysters weren’t easy to flour, especially when all Sherri seemed to have in her house was cornmeal, organic eggs, and some kind of almond milk that looked like white-colored water.

  Kyle was a little nervous to touch the white block of stuff labeled tofu. He’d heard of it, but he’d never actually seen it, like a vague myth that just didn’t seem to exist in the mountains of Montana.

  She only had olive oil and some kind of coconut milk. Her pans were ceramic lined. Kyle searched the small house over for some kind of cast iron or stainless steel. Something he wouldn’t break or scratch.

  He heated up some oil and prepared the oysters according to the instructions – or at least as much as he could remember. Improvising with corn meal when the woman had said flour, he wasn’t sure how much he was messing up.

  Tossing the salad, he plated the freshly fried oysters and put them in the oven to keep warm. Then he sat down at the table and waited.

  And waited.

  Five-thirty came and went.

  Five-forty-five gone after excruciatingly slowness.

  Five-fifty-nine.

  Six.

  Where was she?

  He double-checked the bedroom where the spider was to make sure the arachnid was contained. Kyle paced, he stared at the digital green clock on the microwave.

  Finally, the sound of a car door shutting reached him and he stood, gazing toward the ceiling with its already recognizable swirls in the texturing.

  She walked inside, digging in her bag. She looked up, scanning the room with her gaze. Her eyes lit on Kyle and she dropped her bag, shrieking. She drew out a canister of pepper spray and pointed it toward Kyle.

  He held up his hands. “Whoa, Sherri, it’s me. You’re okay. We had a date tonight, remember?”

  She looked around again, her eyes wide. “We did? Tonight?” After a moment, she nodded slowly. Her hair moved softly against her shoulder. “Oh, that’s right. Sorry, it’s been a long week. People don’t care about beetles half as much as they should.” She sighed, rubbing her eyes. “I’m sorry...” She looked up, raising the pepper spray once again. “Wait, why are you in here? Why didn’t you just leave and what is burning?”

  She rushed around the counter in the kitchen and opened the oven door, releasing a cloud of smoke.

  Kyle slapped his leg. “Dang it. I’m sorry. You wanted seafood. I brought Rocky Mountain oysters. I’d fried them and then put them in the oven to keep warm. I think they were in there too long.”

  Sherri placed the pan on top of the stove and closed it, a peculiar look on her face. She flipped off the controls and straightened, thrusting her hands on her hips. “I’m sorry, what did you say you made?”

  Kyle swallowed, tucking his hands in his jeans pockets. “I made Caesar salad and Rocky Mountain oysters. You said you eat seafood. Or do you only eat fish?” All the rules were so complicated. Why couldn’t she eat meat? He didn’t care if they had peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to be honest. He really just wanted to spend time with her. Now they only had salad to eat.

  She watched him, like she couldn’t figure something out. Then she walked to the living room and flopped to the couch. She rubbed her eyes again and pointed at a spot beside her. She didn’t speak until he sat. “Thank you so much for cooking for me. It’s a little... creepy that you came in my home but I’m too tired to be mad.”

  He cut in. “I’m sorry, but M.T.—”

  She held up her hand. “You could’ve left, Kyle.” She sighed. “I don’t eat beef.”

  “I know.” He knit his eyebrows. “I went to all that trouble to find that seafood and make it for you.” His shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry I just came in. Looking back, sure, not such a bright idea. I real
ly just wanted to see you and spend some time with you. Figure out why I can’t get you out of my head or better yet, find out how to get you out of my thoughts. You’re highly distracting, you know?”

  “Is this a joke? Are you making fun of me?” She stood, moving in front of him with a stuttered pacing. “I don’t think it’s funny. M.T. protects me for a reason. He always has. And now, like in these types of instances, I can see how important his protection has been.”

  “Hey.” Kyle shoved himself from the couch and grabbed Sherri’s shoulders, pulling her to a stop and facing him. “What are you talking about? I protected you the other night. You’re safe with me.” He rubbed his thumb across her chin. “You’re safe.”

  She jerked her face from his grasp. “They why would you make fun of my eating by trying to make me beef testicles?”

  Kyle dropped his hands and stepped back. “What?”

  “You cooked cow balls, Kyle.” She pointed into the kitchen, her eyes glinting. “When I say I don’t eat cow, I’m serious. That doesn’t mean I want to eat their private parts.” Her eyes grew sad. “I really liked you, but now... you’re just like the other guys.”

  “Wait. I’m seriously confused. I thought they were fresh water mussels. You’re serious, I cooked testicles?” He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry, his stomach queasy at the thought. “The guys... they...” Realization dawned on him with a slow fade. “I’m going to kill them.”

  Of course, they would make sure he looked like an idiot.

  Uncertainty darkened her eyes and she frowned. “You didn’t know what they were?”

  Kyle moved closer, gently pushing her hair behind her neck. “I promise, I don’t want to eat nuts. I certainly don’t want to fondle them and bread them and then throw them in the fryer. I am, however, considering the possible neutering of my cousins.”

  She stared at him, her anger fading and curling her lips into amused humor. “Really? You didn’t know that’s what they were? I thought you were raised in Montana.”

  “Who told you that?” Kyle cocked his head, his own humor derisive but good-natured.

  She blushed. “I asked around about you. A little. Maybe.” Her mumble warmed him.