by Sofia Tate
“I’m definitely not in Manhattan anymore,” she whispered to herself.
A girlish squeal erupted outside. “You’re here!”
Blakely watched as her best friend, Georgina Kingsley, who went by the nickname Gigi, ran to the Range Rover, her long brown hair flying behind her.
She stepped out of the car as Gigi, all five foot four inches of her, grabbed her in a tight hug. Blakely’s curvy form towered over her by three inches, as her blonde hair fell around her face.
Blakely couldn’t help but smile at seeing her best friend. “Hey, bestie! Ready to get married?”
“You bet I am. How was your flight? Wow, that’s a sweet rental.”
“I arranged it through a client. The flight was fine. Just the usual delays out of LaGuardia.” Blakely looked around her. “So, this is the dude ranch, huh?”
“Yup. I can’t wait to show you around. I reserved the best cabin for you. It has a great view from the back deck. I know this isn’t what you’re used to…”
“It’ll be fine. And anyway, this week is about you, not me. It’ll be fun,” she reassured her friend while attempting to convince herself in the process.
Gigi looked at Blakely. “God, you must be exhausted. Let me go get the golf cart and I’ll take you up to your cabin.”
“That would be great, thanks.”
Blakely got her bags from her trunk and loaded them onto the cart when Gigi came back. She sat next to her and watched her drive the cart, smoothly winding along the curved path.
“God, you look like you’re already at home here.”
“The owners have been incredibly sweet,” Gigi said with a smile. “Malachy, that’s Mr. Byrne, showed me how to drive this thing the first day I got here, and he said I could use it whenever I liked. You’ll love them. His wife’s name is Rosaleen, and they have three sons. You’ll meet one of them tomorrow.”
Blakely touched Gigi’s arm. “Listen, I wanted to apologize again for not being able to help as much—”
Gigi shooed Blakely’s hand away. “For the hundredth time, don’t worry about it. Sean’s sister, Fiona, has it all under control. I know how busy you are with work, but you’re still my maid of honor because you’re my best friend. Anyway, you have too much potential blackmail material about me, so I can’t really ditch you now.”
Blakely laughed. “Too right. We’re stuck with each other, like it or not. Otherwise I’d have to tell the Yale Daily News about the time you drunkenly made out with that reporter from the Crimson at our first game against Harvard.”
Gigi’s face turned serious. “I plead the Fifth.”
“Ha! Like I said, stuck with each other.”
Gigi pulled the cart to a stop in front of the last cabin with a sign outside that read “Galway.”
“That’s where Malachy’s family’s from. All of the cabins are named after the counties in Ireland. Rosaleen is from Cork.”
The cabin distinguished itself from the others with lace curtains in the two windows that sat on either side of the door. The women hauled Blakely’s luggage up the wide wooden staircase.
When Gigi opened the door, Blakely was pleasantly surprised. In front of her was a spacious living area, with two couches and a pine coffee table. A stone fireplace took up the entire wall on the left side where, instead of pictures of cowboys and buffalos, was a beautiful painting of the Irish countryside with a whitewashed cottage in the center.
A welcome basket sat on the table. It was filled with Blakely’s favorite bottled water, snacks, and bath oils.
Blakely was genuinely touched. “Oh, Gi, that’s so sweet of you.”
“Hey, I spare no expense for my maid of honor.”
“I forgot to ask. Does this place have Wi-Fi?”
“Yeah. All of the cabins have it, but no televisions.”
“That doesn’t bother me. As long as I can use my laptop, I’m good.”
Gigi checked her watch. “Listen, I have to head back. Sean wants to take me to the lake.”
“There’s a lake?”
“Oh yeah. It’s beautiful there. Everything you want to know about the ranch is in the directory in the desk drawer. You go ahead and settle in, and I’ll come by at five o’clock and take you to dinner in town.”
Once she unpacked, Blakely went into the bathroom and changed into the robe that hung on the back of the door. She went back into the bedroom, stretching out on the bed for a bit before heading back to the bathroom to take a hot shower.
She thought about why she had come to Blossom. At thirty-four, she and Gigi had been best friends for sixteen years, ever since they were freshman roommates together at Yale. Blakely went on to Yale’s School of Management for her MBA. Gigi debated going to law school, but decided against it and was now a French teacher at a girls’ prep school on East 90th Street in Manhattan. She was not as ambitious as Blakely, but that didn’t bother Blakely, because Gigi was the only person in the world who knew her best and kept all her secrets.
Gigi had called her six months ago while Blakely was at work to share her news. Her boyfriend, Sean Flynn, had proposed to her during a romantic carriage ride in Central Park.
But the biggest shock for Blakely hadn’t been the news of the engagement itself; it was the location of the wedding.
‘So, when’s the big day? What are you thinking? St. Patrick’s? St. John the Divine?’
‘Blossom, Nevada.’
Blakely thought her hearing was giving out. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘Now, don’t freak out, B. There’s this dude ranch…’
Oh God.
‘…in Blossom, Nevada, just outside Reno…’
Kill me now.
‘where Sean and his family used to go on vacations when he was a kid. I’ve seen pictures, and it looks beautiful.’
Fuck.
But she was here for Gigi, and that’s all that mattered.
As she stared up at the wooden ceiling, Blakely couldn’t stop thinking about the guy in the café. Ronan. She had noticed him the second he walked into the café. The manner in which he carried himself, confident without being cocky, nodding in greeting to the customers, looking at ease—she was in awe of it all. Forgetting the work that was sitting on her table, Blakely had stared at him the entire time he was at the counter. He was tall and lean with broad shoulders. She couldn’t help looking at how his tight ass filled out the rough fabric of his jeans.
Once he sat down at the other table, Blakely returned to her work, only because he was now sitting in her line of sight, and she was afraid of him catching her as she stared at him. Then, when he approached her at the table with that carafe, her knees started to shake, so she locked her legs at the ankles. She had felt his sapphire blue eyes searing into her the entire time at the table, and she never dared to look at him for long, afraid she wouldn’t have been able to return the focus back to her work. The rumble of his deep voice made her instantly wet. She snapped her thighs together, squirming in her chair to adjust herself while attempting to look as graceful as possible when she did it. Her thoughts of how his silky dark hair would feel between her fingers made her determined to focus on her laptop.
She couldn’t understand why he sat down with her. Granted, she felt incredibly at ease with him. Their conversation was smooth. She figured he had pretended to ask if she wanted a refill just so he could have an excuse to talk to her. Could he have honestly been interested in her?
Oh, please. First, that girl Staci came up to him, then she mentioned someone named Amanda. He’s obviously a player. And perfection belongs with perfection, not with someone like her.
Blakely rose from the bed, passing the cheval mirror that stood in the corner of the bedroom. She stopped in front of it, hesitating for a moment. Slowly, she unknotted the belt around her waist and let the robe fall open. She studied her naked body in the reflection.
Yeah, right. Keep dreaming, girl. A guy that smoking hot would never flirt with you.
She was so out of practic
e with the concept of flirting that she couldn’t even recognize it anymore.
It didn’t matter anyway since she was never going to see him again.
At least this morning’s events will keep me going for a while.
After her shower, Blakely walked into the living room and connected her iPod to her portable speakers, scrolling until she found her favorite Diana Krall album. With her tote bag in hand, she stepped onto the back deck of the cabin, settling onto one of the chaises. After inhaling a few breaths of the fresh mountain air, she pulled a brown leather writing journal from her bag, along with a small plastic sandwich bag that contained a roll of tape and a small pair of scissors and a collection of magazines. As she hummed along with the jazzy notes of “Fly Me to the Moon,” she began to skim the pages, cutting and taping as she went along. She was in her happy place.
CHAPTER TWO
The next morning, Blakely woke up to a sound she hadn’t heard in a long time—birds chirping. She could never hear something like that in her apartment on Central Park West because she lived on a high floor with soundproofed windows.
She washed up and put on a white t-shirt, blue jeans, and her oversize grey Yale sweatshirt. It had rained overnight, so instead of the stiletto boots she had packed, she chose her black knee-high designer rain boots.
All of the meals at the ranch were served in the dining hall. When she walked in, one of her favorite movies came to mind-the summer camp movie “Meatballs.” There were long wooden communal tables and benches. The noise level inside was loud because of the combined group of Gigi’s and Sean’s families who were already eating. The one godsend was that breakfast selections were far superior in taste and choice to anything a camp would serve—Irish steel cut oatmeal, French toast, pancakes, Eggs Benedict.
Gigi waved Blakely over to her table. She held up a finger to indicate she’d be right there once she got some food.
Carrying a tray laden with a bowl of steel cuts oats and a mug of coffee, Blakely squeezed in next to Gigi, but not before greeting Gigi’s parents, John and Eleanor Kingsley, and her younger brothers, Andy and Josh.
Blakely dug into her breakfast and took a long sip of coffee. She enjoyed being with Gigi’s family because they had always been so warm and kind to her for as long as she’s known them.
After catching up with the Kingsleys, Blakely gulped the last of her coffee and stood up. “I think I’m going to go. I’ve got some work to do.”
Gigi rose to her feet as well. “No, you don’t. Come on.”
“Where am I going?”
“The stables.”
Blakely laughed. “Yeah, right.”
Once outside, as Blakely began to walk up the hill to her cabin, Gigi grabbed her by the elbow. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Blakely looked at her confusedly. “Back to my cabin. Where should I be going?”
“The stables. You’ll be assigned your horse there.”
Blakely did a double-take. “I’m sorry. My what?”
Gigi sighed. “Your horse! Jeez, Blakely, didn’t you read the list of activities for the week?”
She pursed her lips together. “Umm…no.”
Gigi took her best friend by the arm and guided her away from the cabins. “Well, never mind that. The stables are down this path behind the dining hall.” She shook her head. “You know there’s more to life than work.”
Blakely rolled her eyes. “You know what, Georgina? Crochet it on a throw pillow so I can put it on my sofa and you can stop saying that to me for good.”
Gigi muttered under her breath. “Bitch.”
Blakely reciprocated, bumping her shoulder against Gigi’s affectionately. “Right back at ya.”
Blakely stared at the beast standing majestically in front of her.
She shook her head vehemently. “Uh-uh. There is no way on God’s green earth that I am getting up on that thing.”
Gigi brushed her hand over the horse’s nose. “What’s wrong with him? He’s a beautiful creature.”
Blakely agreed with Gigi on that one. The horse was glorious. The shine of his black coat glistened in the sunlight. His eyes looked straight ahead, unwavering and assured. Confident.
He was also very tall. And very large.
The head groom, Mack, a lanky older man wearing a cowboy hat, patted the horse gently. “Come on, Miss. You don’t have to be afraid of Lightning.”
Blakely’s eyes almost popped out of her head as her eyebrows shot up like two antennae. “Lightning? His name is Lightning?” She shook her head. “Yeah, this isn’t happening.”
Mack and Gigi rolled their eyes at each other.
“Don’t you have a nice, calm, older horse like a Clydesdale with a name like Rusty or Jethro who doesn’t look like he belongs in the Winner’s Circle at the Kentucky Derby? I haven’t been on a horse since my father made me take riding lessons when I was six.”
Mack stepped up to Blakely. “Miss, you’re going to be fine. Really. Lightning will take care of you. He’s a good boy,” he said assuredly, patting the horse’s head.
“Plus, we can’t start the trail ride without you,” Gigi added.
Blakely looked over at her best friend, who had a pleading look on her face.
This is Gigi’s week. Not mine.
“All right,” she said in surrender as Gigi smiled in triumph.
Mack held up one of the stirrups. “Good girl. Let me help you up. Put your left foot in the hold here, then swing your other leg—”
“It’s okay, Mack. That part I remember. I’ve got it from here.”
As if she were six years old again, Blakely confidently settled herself into the brown leather saddle. Mack handed her the reins. “Here, Miss. You’ll be just great.”
I will be. I can do this.
Blakely was pleased with herself. “Thank you, Mack.”
Mack tipped his straw cowboy hat to her. “My pleasure.”
As Blakely followed the rest of the riders, she took in the beauty of the surroundings. Tall pine trees lined the landscape, with wildflowers dotting the grass in various colors.
She saw Gigi and Sean leading up the pack and could hear Andy and Josh joking amongst themselves because their voices carried wherever they went.
A young ranch hand, Tim, was the last in the group who kept watch on the riders ahead. As they rode, the walkie talkie in his back pocket came to life. “Tim, head on back to the stables, will ya? Need your help. Someone’s coming out to replace you.”
Blakely turned at the sound of Tim’s reply. “Ten-four, Mack. Be right there.”
After shoving the walkie back in his jeans, Tim trotted up to her. “Will you be all right for a few minutes, ma’am? If you need something, just shout up to Matt in the front.”
She nodded at him. “Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll be fine. Go ahead.”
The longer Lightning carried her along, the more relaxed Blakely felt. But gradually, she realized the view was becoming askew. Her saddle was shifting to the right. She thought she was imagining it at first, but as she tried to center herself on Lightning, she realized she was falling off the horse.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! This is not happening!
“Shit! Help! Somebody help!”
Ronan would have recognized that ass anywhere.
He had planned on joining the trail ride after getting some work done in the office, but cut it short when he got the call to replace Tim. As he rode up to the group, he noticed the last rider looked off balance. The saddle was falling off Lightning with the woman still on it.
He couldn’t believe it was really her. Not only did he recognize her ass, but also the blonde hair that bounced around her head and the rapturous voice that commanded attention.
Ronan snapped the reins on his beloved white stallion, Aran, and thundered towards the woman before she could plummet to the ground below her. He pulled up a few feet behind her and jumped off Aran.
He rushed to her. “It’s okay. I’ve got you,” just as she fel
l into his open arms.
Her hands gripped at his shirt and her head snapped back. Ronan was once again staring into those emerald green eyes, now widened from shock.
Blakely was breathing rapidly, her chest heaving up and down. Her face was glowing red from the adrenaline of the fall.
Suddenly, beads of sweat began to form on Ronan’s forehead. His heart began to beat as fast as hers.
Ronan finally found his voice. “You okay?”
“Yes,” she panted. “Thank you so much.”
He smiled. “You’re welcome.”
The warmth in his voice drew her attention. Turning her head, Blakely looked up into his eyes as her mouth dropped. “Oh my God! It’s you!”
Suddenly, her eyebrows furrowed in an emotion Ronan couldn’t quite translate for himself.
Her gaze travelled away from his face as she finally said barely above a whisper, “You can put me down now.”
A wave of disappointment swept over Ronan. “You sure about that?”
“Yes.”
“Very well.”
Ronan reluctantly placed her on the ground. She brushed herself off, taking care to smooth out the hem of her sweatshirt.
“Thank you,” she muttered under her breath, her gaze drifting toward the trees.
Why won’t she look at me?
He frowned at her obvious attempt not to look him in the eye. “I’m just glad I got here when I did.”
Ronan stared at her, willing her to at least give him one glance in his direction. Instead, she pointed to Lightning. “Before you go, could you please saddle him again?”
He shook his head in defeat. “Yeah, sure.”
Ronan stepped over to Lightning and examined the saddle before hoisting it back onto him.
The woman stepped closer to the horse. “Did anything break?”