“But want can become need,” he said. “I think if you want something bad enough, you begin to need it. You must have it.”
She stared at him for a second. Yes, exactly. That was how she was beginning to think about him. But she had no idea what he was talking about. How it related to them. Unless she was giving him too much credit and he was thinking about a Range Rover or a trip to Tahiti. She got out two plates and utensils, her appetite diminishing by the second.
“Have you thought more about getting married?” he asked.
She whirled to face him. Was this the route he was on? How did want and need get him to this question? He didn’t want or need to get married, not in the real sense.
You want to know what I need? To understand you. Just when I think I do, you throw me for a major loop.
“No. There’s nothing to think about, Brandon.” She sucked in a breath, remembering her conversation with Callie at Java and Juice about what a marriage would actually entail. “But tell me. Let’s say we did get married. How exactly do you envision it? I mean, we wouldn’t be a normal husband and wife. So we’d live together like roommates? Friends but sharing in the responsibility of raising our child?”
“Well, I guess I didn’t think too far down the line. But it’s a good question.”
Aha. Didn’t think it through. Once he did, he’d take back the proposal in a snap.
“What do you mean by roommates, exactly?” he asked—warily.
“Well, it would be a platonic marriage, right? So we’d be roommates. Housemates, I should say. We’d have separate bedrooms.”
“But we’d be married,” he said. Earnestly. “So, we’d share the master suite.”
“Oh, the master suite,” she sing-songed. “Brandon. Platonic couples, an oxymoron in itself, don’t share bedrooms. Because they’re not sleeping together. There’s no sex.”
He stared at her. “There could be.”
Of course he expected sex. Brandon Taylor giving up all the hot singles of Bronco for a truly platonic marriage? No way. “So you see us married, having a sexual relationship, as married couples do, just without the emotional angle? It wouldn’t be a love match. Is that it?”
She’d known from the get-go that love wouldn’t be part of it. But she hadn’t known he’d been counting on the shared bed.
“We already know how good we are together, Cass. Sexually.”
“Didn’t we have this exact conversation at the wedding? A no-strings romance? I said no thanks.”
“Right,” he said. “Except now we’re expecting a baby. So it’s a different conversation.”
She laughed—but not happily. “I see. Now that we’re having a baby, the conversation has morphed to marriage instead of just a relationship. Legally binding. Do you really believe any of this complete and utter crap you’re saying?”
He frowned. “It makes sense to me, Cassidy.”
No kidding. “It doesn’t work for me. It’s not what I need.”
Fury whirred in her stomach. The smell of the lasagna was suddenly too much. She ran into the bathroom, thinking she had to throw up, but she didn’t. She just needed to catch her breath. Splash some cool water on her face.
When she came out, Brandon was standing by the oven with her big yellow oven mitts. She’d heard the timer go off when she’d been in the bathroom, but hadn’t had it in her to rush out. He took out the container of lasagna and began cutting and plating.
Ever helpful. Grr. Be just one thing! she wanted to scream like a crazy person. Of course, no one was or should be. But he needed to stop getting A pluses for kindness and generosity and thoughtfulness and Fs for relationships.
He brought the plates to the table and set them down. “I’m sorry, Cassidy. But I am who I am. I don’t see myself changing. It took a lot to make me this way, and I’m fine with who I turned out to be.”
She forced herself to sit. “Fine with not having a real relationship? How can you be so sure you’ll love our baby if you can’t love your wife?”
He stared at her, something shifting in his expression that told her she’d pushed a button he didn’t want pushed.
She was about to apologize, to say that she knew full well there was a difference, but his phone pinged.
He pulled it out. “Oh, damn it. Text from my dad. There’s a problem with Starlight. My favorite horse at the ranch. She’s the one who eavesdropped on us talking the night of the wedding.” He scanned the text. “My dad wants my help.”
“Go,” she said. “I think we could both use a break from our conversation anyway.”
He nodded. “I’ll take a rain check on the lasagna.”
The moment the door closed behind him, she felt his absence so acutely that she had to sit and give herself a moment.
And she knew she’d already crossed her own line. There was no turning back from her feelings for Brandon. So she’d just put her energy to better use: turning him back from a life without love.
That somewhat settled, she dug into the lasagna. She was eating for two now, so she added his to her own plate.
* * *
“Let’s go take the chocolate-coconut scones from the oven,” Cassidy told Maeve, scooping the baby from the playpen in the kiddie section of Bronco Java and Juice. “You can take your bunny with you.”
“La ba!” Maeve said, waving her new lovey.
It was six forty in the morning; the sky a beautiful dark pink and gray as the sun began to rise. Cassidy had been awake since just before five o’clock, when Maeve had let out a little shriek to let her sitter know she was ready to begin her day. Despite not having had a great night’s sleep, thanks to some tossing and turning over her conversation with Brandon, Cassidy had excitedly rushed over to get Maeve, elated at caring for a baby and grateful for the practice.
She loved everything about the experience of caring for Maeve, from holding the sweet baby against her, feeding, changing, bathing, dressing, even getting spit up on. At one point, Cassidy realized she was talking to Maeve nonstop, detailing her every move, thinking out loud, and it occurred to her what good company a baby was, even if silent company.
One thing that had kept Cassidy awake last night was her quiet phone. She’d kept expecting it to ping with a text from Brandon, checking in, quipping about something, anything. But he hadn’t texted at all. Maybe Starlight was very ill. Or maybe their conversation had been too much for him, as well. Granted, he would have left to help out at the ranch no matter what the two of them had been doing. Brandon wasn’t a responsibility shirker. But he’d left very quickly and she’d been able to tell that he was relieved for the excuse to get out of there.
How can you be sure you’ll love our baby if you can’t love your wife?
She’d hit below the belt on that one. First of all, there was no wife and wouldn’t be unless she agreed to his plan of being an unloved wife. She’d apologize when she saw him next, and she had no doubt she’d see him today. If she wanted to help Brandon be able to love again, she had to be smart about it, not fling shaming accusations at him.
“Today’s a new day, Maeve,” she told the baby. “I’ll start fresh with Brandon. What’s my grand plan, you ask? To just be myself. To not talk so much about what’s to come and what will be, and how this and how that, but just to be. Two people figuring things out as they go because they were thrown together into something huge. A you, Maeve. A baby.” She scooped her up and twirled around, a rookie move when she knew better because a tiny fist grabbed the end of her ponytail and yanked.
“Oh yeah?” Cassidy said, giving the baby a tickle. Maeve giggled, her beautiful eyes twinkling. “And I have a much more fun activity for you instead of hair yanking. Let’s go into the kitchen and take out the scones. Maybe we’ll each swipe a piece. Yum!”
As she turned to put the baby in her stroller to wheel her into the kitchen, Cassidy had that
funny feeling that someone was watching her. Not Maeve, who only had eyes for her bunny, which she was alternately shaking and chewing. Some early early birds outside awaiting their smoothies and lattes? Or maybe Tyler was a bit early to pick up his daughter? She expected him just before seven. Or perhaps Helen and Hank had arrived for their shift? Cassidy glanced at the glass front door, but there was no sign of anyone.
She was about to wheel Maeve behind the counter and into the kitchen when she had the feeling again. This time, she looked to the glass back door, which could be accessed from the kitchen and the shop.
Cassidy jumped. Winona Cobbs stood at the door, her razor-sharp gaze right on Cassidy. Ninety-four years old, Winona was a relative newcomer to Bronco. Cassidy had heard from Callie, who worked for Winona’s great-grandson, that Winona was originally from a tiny town called Rust Creek Falls. She’d gotten pregnant as a teenager and had been told the baby had died and had then been separated from her beau, a man named Josiah Abernathy. But the baby girl had been alive the whole time. Thanks to sleuthing, caring folks, that baby had been located, and Winona had been reunited with her long-lost daughter, Daisy, with whom she now lived in Bronco.
Cassidy hurried through the kitchen and opened the door. “Morning, Miss Winona. We’re not quite open yet, not till seven, but if you’re wanting a quick cup of coffee or tea, I’d be happy to get you something.”
“I’ve had my morning tea, thank you,” Winona said. Her long white hair was in a ponytail down one shoulder of her purple tracksuit. “I was taking my morning stroll through the back nooks and crannies of the shops, and noticed you.”
“Oh, well thanks for saying hi. Sure I can’t get you a pastry? I have six kinds of muffins and three kinds of scones. Maybe a bagel? You can have your pick before the morning crowd shows up to devour them any minute now.”
“I had sourdough toast and jam with my tea, so I’m just fine,” Winona said. “But I’ll tell you something, Cassidy Ware. You’ll be glad you did it. Yes, you will.”
Cassidy stared at the elderly woman. Glad I did what? she wondered.
Everyone said Winona was psychic and she did have her own business, Wisdom by Winona. Callie ran into Winona often since she worked for Winona’s grandson at Bronco’s Ghost Tours, where Winona had her shop in an office. Callie had told Cassidy that she’d come around to believing that Winona had a gift.
“What do you mean by that?” Cassidy asked Winona. “Glad I did what exactly?”
“You’ll see. Oh yes, you will. You have a nice day now.” Winona turned on her heel and walked away.
Cassidy tried not to frown. “You, too,” she called.
You’ll be glad you did it. Did what?
She wanted to chase after Winona and demand she answer the question. But she couldn’t leave Maeve alone and she had to tend to the scones.
Did what? Was it something she’d already done? Or something she was going to do?
Hmm. Maybe Cassidy would make an appointment with Winona at her shop. Get an answer and have a formal sit-down reading of her fortunes, her future. Not that she necessarily believed in psychics. But she didn’t not believe, either.
As Cassidy was coming to realize, anything was possible.
Chapter Eight
At seven in the morning, Brandon was finally ready for bed. The veterinarian had instructed him and the stable manager to watch the horse all night; she was having stomach issues, but neither Brandon nor the manager could figure out what the Appaloosa could have possibly eaten that could have resulted in this kind of colic. With Starlight more comfortable after getting some medicine, Brandon had settled in for the night in her stall, knowing full well he’d be unable to sleep a wink anyway. Not with that conversation with Cassidy knocking through his head. And not with all the reminders of where his present and future had begun. Right here.
He got up, pulled hay from his neck and hair, and rolled up the sleeping bag, talking gently to Starlight, who was much perkier this morning. He was about to text his dad that the horse was on the mend when he heard footsteps. One of the cowboys, Paul Fielding, came into view, holding the hand of a young boy, seven or eight at most. The boy was crying, his head hung. The cowboy looked grim. What was this about?
Paul nodded in greeting at Brandon then looked at the boy. “My son Kyle has something to say.”
The boy’s face crumpled and tears slipped down his freckled cheeks.
“Go ahead, Kyle,” his dad said firmly.
The boy slashed two hands under his damp eyes, his shoulders shaking. “I didn’t mean to make Starlight sick. I swear it!”
Ah. Mystery solved of how a horse with a restricted diet managed to eat something that made her so ill.
A teary-eyed, nervous Kyle looked down. “After school yesterday, I came to see her and Firecracker, my other favorite horse. And I had leftovers in my lunchbox so I gave them to Starlight. I’m really sorry,” he added, the boy’s remorse evident in his face and voice.
“Do you remember what you gave her?” Brandon asked.
Kyle nodded. “Apple slices. And the rest of my turkey and cheese sandwich. There was half left.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound too bad,” Brandon said. “Definitely didn’t agree with her, though.”
Kyle hung his head again and scuffed the floor with one of his blue sneakers.
“Tell Mr. Taylor what else,” his father said. “It’s important he knows so that Starlight can get the best care.”
Yeah, apple slices and a turkey sandwich, even the whole thing, wouldn’t have gotten Starlight as sick as she’d been.
Kyle looked up, biting his lip. “There were a few Pop Rocks left in the pack, so I shook them out on my palm and held them out to her and she ate them. She seemed to like them. They were the cherry ones. I didn’t know she’d get sick. I’m sorry.” He burst into a fresh round of tears, the narrow shoulders trembling before he threw his arms around his dad’s waist and buried his face in his hip.
“Kyle, you’ve got to face Mr. Taylor and your mistake,” Paul said, his voice gentle but firm.
The boy slowly looked up at Brandon. “I’m really sorry. I’m sorry, Starlight,” he called out to the horse.
Brandon knelt in front of Kyle. “The thing about horses is that, unlike people, they can’t throw up or burp. So food that doesn’t agree with them just stays in their bellies, making trouble.”
Kyle wiped under his eyes again. “I didn’t know that. Did you know that, Daddy?” he asked, turning to the cowboy.
Paul nodded. “I did, son. Animals and people have very different kinds of bodies. So you have to know what an animal can and can’t eat before you offer it anything. If you want to work on a ranch someday, that’s important to know.”
“That’s right,” Brandon said, standing. “You want to be a cowboy like your dad, Kyle?”
Kyle nodded. “And I want to be a champion roper like Geoff Burris. He’s my favorite. But my dad said I can’t go to the holiday rodeo in November like we were gonna because of what I did to Starlight.”
Brandon glanced at Paul, who looked pretty miserable himself. “Well, Kyle, you didn’t know you would make Starlight ill and now you do. I’ll bet anything you’ll never feed the horses again without getting permission. Starlight was probably very happy to get those apple slices, but she can’t have stuff like Pop Rocks.”
Kyle nodded. “She did seem to like the apples best of all. My dad also said I’m not allowed to come in the stables anymore and I promise I won’t.”
Brandon slid a compassionate glance over to Paul, then looked at the boy. “Tell you what, Kyle. You obviously love horses, since you were just trying to share your lunch leftovers with Starlight. She happens to be my favorite, too. If it’s okay with your dad, it’s okay with me for you come see her and any of the horses anytime you want. Just don’t feed them without permission from a g
rown-up. Okay?”
Paul’s shoulders visibly sagged with relief, and Brandon realized the guy was probably worried for his job.
Kyle’s face broke into a smile. “Wow, thank you. I’m really sorry for what I did.”
“I know you are,” Brandon said. “Starlight’s going to be fine. And I’m just glad she ate everything so that you couldn’t give any Pop Rocks to Firecracker or we’d have had two horses with serious bellyaches.”
Kyle’s eyes widened. “Oh yeah. I’m glad, too.”
“And,” Brandon added, “if your dad thinks it’s okay to take you to the rodeo to see Geoff Burris win again, like I know he will, I also think that’s okay. Geoff’s a Bronco hero.”
“He’s the best!” Kyle exclaimed. He looked at his dad. “Does that mean we can still go?”
“We’ll talk about that on the way to school,” Paul said, smoothing the boy’s rumpled brown hair. “If Mr. Taylor’s good with it, then maybe we can, after all. I know how much seeing your hero in person means to you.”
“All right!” Kyle said and ran over to Brandon, throwing his skinny arms around Brandon’s hips for a hug.
Brandon grinned and gave the boy a squeeze.
After more apologies and a handshake from Paul, father and son headed down the long aisle, and Brandon heard Kyle say, “Daddy, Geoff Burris is my hero, but so are you.”
Not much could bring a tear to Brandon’s eyes, but that did. Funny, Cassidy was the one with all the new hormones coursing through her, and here he was, impending fatherhood making him all emotional.
He gave Starlight a pat on the nose and let her know he’d be back in an hour, then texted his father that the Appaloosa had come through fine and that the vet would be back around nine to check on her. He headed out of the stables, watching Paul and Kyle walk away holding hands, the boy’s backpack dangling from one of Paul’s shoulders.
The Most Eligible Cowboy Page 10