by Peak, Renna
“I told you I’m getting the hang of this.” Clara grins at me. “So can we talk while we’re doing this? I mean—”
“Are you still getting married?” I blurt out the words, but I can’t bring myself to look over at her. She’s had a number of meetings with her fiancé over the past few weeks—some even at my home—and as the two of us haven’t really spoken, I have no idea of the outcome of those encounters.
“Nick…” She frowns over at me before she mounts her horse. “The wedding’s off. I thought you knew that.”
“I knew nothing of the sort.” I climb onto my horse and start for the nearby pasture.
She quickly catches up, pulling alongside me. “Is that what you ignoring me these past few weeks has been about?”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
“The wedding—”
“You said there was to be no wedding.”
“There isn’t.” She looks over at me. “Adam left a few days ago. Finally.”
“Ah.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“I said nothing of the sort.” Part of me is relieved that the man is now out of her life, if that truly is the case. But clearly our time together meant nothing to her. It meant nothing to me, either. I should just end this now since her trial period is up, but something won’t allow me to. I’ve spent the past few weeks doing most of the work on the ranch—trying to keep my mind from her, at any rate. And perhaps that is the problem. I shouldn’t have to distract myself. I shouldn’t be feeling anything about this woman.
I bring my horse to a gallop, ignoring the sudden wave of emotion that washes over me. I’m not even sure what it is I’m feeling—some mixture of anger and resentment, certainly, but there’s something else in there, too.
I’m not sure when it happened, or even why, but I’m quite sure I’ve come to care about Clara.
As I finish opening the gate to the adjacent pasture, Clara follows me.
She grins as she rides up to me, helping me to close and fasten the gate. “We make a good team, don’t we?”
My head snaps around to face her, but I say nothing.
“Can we go for a ride? So we can talk?”
I grunt in response, maneuvering my horse around to face the same direction as hers.
We ride slowly in silence across the pasture and toward the grove of trees at the far end.
“We haven’t been back here since that storm, remember?”
I give another small grunt of agreement.
“It’s been weird, right? Me and you?”
I look over at her but say nothing.
“It has. I know. And it’s my fault. I…I should have…” Her smile falls, and she turns to look at me again. “I never should have kissed you. Or let you kiss me. Whatever it was.”
I feel my eyebrow rise involuntarily, and I turn back to look out over my land. This is all I need. Not some woman playing games with me. Not someone who can toy with another man’s feelings—and for what? To take the edge off the pain of her losing her fiancé?
Used. That’s what it is I’m feeling. Clara used me.
“I want to be your friend. And I don’t want things to be weird between us anymore. Okay? Can we just go back to the way things were?”
I pull my horse to a stop. “And how was that?”
“You know…” Her smile returns. “Just you being grumpy, and me…” Something flickers across her expression. “I just want to stay. That’s what I want. I want to stay and work for you.”
“Hm. What you want.”
She nods, the full smile returning to her lips. “Yes. What I want.”
How am I supposed to tell her that what I want is her? When she’s just ended a relationship? When she’s saying she wants to be by employee? When everything about this is as wrong as it can be?
My gaze narrows. “No.”
“No?” Her smile falls again and her eyebrows draw together. “What do you mean?
“I mean…” I shake my head. “No.”
And before I allow her to respond, I kick the side of my horse and gallop away from her as fast as I can.
Clara
For a moment, I can’t do anything but stare after him in shock.
These last few weeks have been hard. Harder than he knows. Or maybe he does know, but he’s just decided once and for all that I wasn’t worth the effort of helping me anymore. Since that first night, he never volunteered to help me with Adam again. Not even when Adam came out here to the ranch.
It’s my own fault, I know, for snapping at him after things went south the first time. But as much as I hate to admit it, it would have been helpful to have Nick there with me. Adam didn’t want to hear what I had to say, no matter how many times or ways I said it. He still thinks this is all some phase I’m going through, an extreme case of cold feet, and that I’ll come to my senses eventually. Hell, the only reason he finally went back to New York was to deal with some big work thing. I’m pretty sure he still thinks I’m going to show up the night before, sobbing and begging for his forgiveness.
But these last few weeks have only cemented my feelings. I’m not going back. I belong here now, whether or not Nick wants to admit it. And Nick needs me, even though he doesn’t want to admit that, either. His ankle might be nearly back to normal, but that man needs someone to make sure he doesn’t get into trouble.
I’m not going to let him run away from me now. And I’m not going to let him send me away.
“Come on, girl,” I say to Pom, nudging her with my heels. I tug the reins, steering her in the direction Nick disappeared.
I’ve been practicing my riding a lot these last few weeks. It’s probably the only thing that’s kept me from going completely insane. I’m still not completely comfortable in the saddle, but at least I’m better than I was before.
I kick her with my heels again, bringing her up to a trot. Trotting is the worst—I bounce all over the saddle, barely keeping my seat—so I squeeze her with my heels again, encouraging her to go faster and fall into a canter.
Cantering is as fast as I’ve gone on my own. And even though it’s smoother than a trot, I still feel like I might fly off the horse at any second. I grip the reins for dear life, trying not to cling to the saddle horn—all the books say you’re not supposed to do that—and pray that I don’t fall and break my neck. The wind whips in my face, pulling my hair loose from my ponytail.
Nick has a big lead on me. But there’s only one set of recent hoofprints. It might take me a while to catch up to him, but I’ll find him. One way or another.
Pom takes an uneven step, and I fall forward in the saddle, clutching the pommel with both hands. It’ll be just my luck injuring myself trying to find that stubborn ass of a man.
Unfortunately, in my desperation to stay in the saddle, I also end up squeezing Pom even tighter with my legs. She knows what that signal means. And before I can correct myself, her speed increases, shifting from a steady canter into what feels like a full gallop.
I’m pretty sure I shriek. Either way, I can’t seem to do anything but cling to saddle and reins and grip her sides with my legs, trying to stay on her back.
I don’t want to die here. Please, don’t let me die here.
That silent prayer loops through my head again and again. I’m not sure I’m even breathing.
But then suddenly something shifts in me. I haven’t loosened my grip on Pom anywhere, but I grow used to the rhythm of her gallop. I don’t feel like I’m going to be thrown from the saddle with every step.
Little by little, I let myself relax. My legs stay firmly in place on either side of her, but they’re no longer squeezing. I even manage to pry my fingers from the pommel, keeping them clutched around the reins instead. I still stay bent forward in the saddle, but I’ve managed to find my balance now.
This time, the sound I make is more of a whoop. The wind feels marvelous in my face. I could ride like this forever.
But I haven’t forgotten why
I was galloping in the first place. Up ahead, Prince’s dark form has come into view. Nick must have slowed him down, for us to come up on them so quickly. He probably didn’t think I’d catch up at all.
As we get closer, he twists around in his saddle, looking back. I’m not close enough to see his face.
I expect him to kick Prince into a gallop again, to try to run off, but he doesn’t. Instead, he actually seems to slow. It’s hard to tell, though, because Pom is still galloping at full speed, barreling toward both of them. And I suddenly realize I’ve never stopped a horse going this speed. How do you slow one of these things down?
I tug at the reins, which usually gets the point across. But Pom doesn’t seem to notice. So I tug again, harder this time, and Pom jerks, trying to slow. I’m thrown back in the saddle, once again clinging madly to the pommel as I try to both keep my seat and continue to slow Pom down to a manageable speed.
By the time Pom finally stops—within feet of Prince and Nick—I’m rigid and clinging to anything I reach. This is hardly the grand entrance I wanted to make, but at least Nick isn’t galloping away again.
Please don’t let him gallop away.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I tell him. “I can keep up with anything you throw at me.”
He sighs. “This is not a matter of you keeping up.”
“Then it’s because of all that stuff with Adam?”
Another sigh. “No, Clara, it isn’t.”
“Then it’s because you feel awkward around me. Admit it.”
He’s starting to lose hold on his temper. “And if I do feel awkward around you, will that change anything? Will you leave? Or will you refuse to listen and continue to insist that you know better than I do?”
I frown at him. “I’m trying to help you, Nick.”
“No, you’re trying to help yourself.” He shifts in his saddle. “I understand that you have some things to figure out in your life. I don’t fault you for that. But I can’t be your catalyst for change, Clara. If you intend to sort yourself out, you need to do that on your own.”
My immediate response to his words is anger. Is that what he thinks I’m doing? Using him as my lifeline—my catalyst for change, or however he put it—and dragging him down with me?
But no sooner has my anger flared up than shame follows. I have been unfair to him. I dragged him into my mess with Adam—whether or not I meant to—and he has every right to be tired of me. His life was probably so much simpler before I showed up.
But I don’t want to go. Not yet. And not just because I need this job.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him finally. “I should have respected you more than that.”
He actually looks startled to hear my apology, which makes me even more embarrassed. Have I really been so terrible to him that he’s surprised by an apology? I feel ill.
“I…should go back to the house,” I say. “Get my things together.” I don’t want to go. God, I have no idea where I’ll go, or what I’ll do. But I don’t feel right staying here any longer. I nudge Pom with my heels, and she starts forward.
“Clara.” Nick reaches out and grabs my arm, and Pom stops obediently.
I twist, looking back at him. His dark hair is windswept, for once looking as wild as the scenery around him. It’s taken a few weeks, but I can finally say that his new clothes suit him, that he’s beginning to look natural in his flannel and jeans. He looks natural in that saddle, too—broad-shouldered and proud, every inch the sexy cowboy I saw the first time I looked at him. He’s absolutely beautiful.
He’s still holding onto my arm, just above the elbow, and without even realizing it I’ve managed to twist my hand around to clutch him, too. For a long, quiet moment, we sit there, arms clasped, neither of us moving.
“I don’t want to go,” I say finally, and I hate how much the words sound like a plea. His eyes burn into me, but I can’t pull my gaze away from his.
And then I do something very stupid. I know it’s stupid even as I move, but I can’t help myself. I lean toward him, and with my free hand I grab the front of his shirt, pulling him toward me.
Maybe he means to protest, but no words come out of his mouth. I don’t give him the chance. I jerk his face down to mine and I kiss him.
At first, his mouth doesn’t move. But his grip tightens above my elbow, so I let myself lean into him, clinging to him so I don’t fall out of my saddle. His grip tightens even more, almost to the point of pain, and I wonder if I’ve made a huge mistake.
But then something seems to snap in him. One moment he’s still as a stone—except for his fingers on my arm—and the next he almost springs forward, his arm coming around me. His lips open, his tongue plunging into my mouth, and I’m no longer the one doing the kissing.
I can only cling to him. Especially when, with a growl, he scoops both hands beneath my bottom and pulls me out of my saddle and over onto his lap. I gasp, my hands tightening on his shirt, but his arms hold me snugly and his lips brush my ear.
“Don’t worry—I’ve got you,” he murmurs.
And then he kisses me again, and the fear of falling is the last thing on my mind.
Nicholas
I could kiss her like this for the rest of my life. Hold her. Taste her.
She pulls away from me only a moment later. “Nick…”
The tone of her voice tells me all I need to hear. And it only takes one look into her eyes to know she doesn’t truly want this. I’ve promised myself—multiple times—that I’m not going to do anything with Clara until she actually speaks the words. She may have been the one to initiate this latest kiss, but she’s clearly still not in the right frame of mind to be able to make a decision.
I set her back onto her saddle without another word between us.
“Nick…”
My gaze flicks to her for only a moment before I signal to Prince to begin moving again.
This time, I don’t have the horse gallop away. I merely guide him along the path—should Clara want to follow, she should have no problem keeping up.
And she does, following closely behind me.
I take the fork opposite the one we took the last time we were out here, and we ride in silence for some time. We finally get to the end of this particular riding trail, and it opens onto the most beautiful part of my property. When I’d first decided to buy the ranch, I thought I’d make my home out here. And perhaps I still will.
Clara pulls up alongside me, coming to a skittish stop. While her riding skills have improved greatly, she still has plenty to learn, particularly when it comes to stopping her horse.
“I had no idea this was here.” She looks over at me. “When were you going to tell me?”
“I’ve never stopped you from exploring my land.” My words come out quite a bit more gruff than I’d intended. But I must admit I’m a bit more frustrated with Clara’s behavior than I’d imagined I would be.
“There are cabins…” She shakes her head. “You could rent these out, you know. Have this be some sort of ‘real cowboy experience’ or something.” She grins at me. “Seriously, you could make a ton of money—”
“I’m not interested in making money.”
“Okay, no need to be snappy about it. I’m just saying maybe you don’t want to keep all of this for yourself. You could share it, you know.”
I frown, but I don’t look over at her. How can she not see that I am sharing it?
With her.
“And people love this sort of thing. It wouldn’t take much, you know. You could hire someone—”
“I’ve already hired someone. And I’ve no intention of hiring anyone else.”
“Well, if you want me to do something with this, I’d be happy to. I mean, you must have led me out here for a reason.”
“Actually, I didn’t. If you’ll recall, you were the one who followed me.”
Her grin widens. “See? This is what I was talking about. We’re back to you being grumpy and me trying to tell you how you can
turn this place around.”
I rub my forehead. This woman is going to be the death of me.
She rides down the small hill to the four cabins below. I’ve no idea why I follow her, but I do. I’d really only meant to come out here because I haven’t been here since I purchased the ranch. And I’ll never be telling Clara that her idea of a ‘true cowboy experience’ was exactly how I came to find this place at all. There was something almost magical about sleeping in that cabin, reading by candlelight and having meals prepared over an open fire each night. It was exactly what I needed at the time.
Now, as I watch Clara tie her horse to one of the posts in the camp, I’m not sure what I need. There’s no question, however, of what I want.
I rake a hand through my hair as I follow her, finally climbing off my horse and tying it to the post nearest hers. I need to find a way to regain some of my sensibility. It wasn’t too difficult these past few weeks, not when she was having her “conversations” with her lover. She has no idea how many times I almost intervened, particularly when the man’s voice rose or when she sounded particularly vulnerable.
But I didn’t. I stopped myself because that was what she wanted. I barricaded myself in my room or busied myself with other chores to keep myself out of the way. She would have come to me if she’d wanted help—she would have asked.
And that is why she will have to speak the actual words of what she wants. I’m not ever going to assume I can read her mind—or her actions—ever again.
“Nick, this is amazing!” She’s so giddy she nearly squeals. She motions to the fire pit. “You could totally roast marshmallows here. Sing around the campfire—”
“I don’t sing—”
“Not you, silly. Your guests. There could be food, songs, s’mores…” She shakes her head, still grinning. “If we get some ads out now, you’ll probably have guests within a few weeks. Of course, we’ll have to see what kind of shape the cabins are in—”
“I don’t want people here. I don’t…” I frown at her. “I stayed here. That’s how I found out about this ranch.”