Together, they cleaned out the hayloft and readied the pens with new watering and feeding troughs. She never complained. Not once.
Nor did the kids want for attention. Somehow, she managed to keep the balance with the kids and the extra work. And day by day, they seemed to fall in love with her even more. He’d never seen them so happy or content. While they weren’t prone to meltdowns, even the few that happened, Kate managed to diffuse with offers to bake cupcakes together or to just sit together on the floor building a Lego spaceship or by reading a book to them. Or, even more likely, with a simple hug.
The tough-chick persona faded away around his children and the girl he used to know returned.
Sometimes, he’d watch her over the heads of his children and wonder how he’d been fool enough to ever let her go? Even if he’d had to share custody of the children with Melissa, being with Kate, letting her mother his children was what should have been from the start. He had made the choice to marry Melissa, thinking he was doing the right thing, not only for her, but for their children. Yet, watching Kate love these babies—who weren’t even hers—as if they were her own, only confirmed what he already knew: he’d had another option years ago. He’d chosen the wrong one. A mistake he still wasn’t sure he could ever put right.
Though she allowed him to make love to her at night, Kate’s reticence to truly let him in, to allow her heart to open to him—those things were his fault. He’d deeply wounded her, broken her heart, even though she’d never admit that to him, even now. He began to recognize the barricades for what they were—protection. Even now, when she’d laugh at something he said or suddenly found that she was enjoying herself, she would change the subject or make excuses to disappear or he’d watch something bittersweet wash over her.
To add to the mystery, Caylee had whispered to him one night, as he’d tucked her into bed, that Kate had cried at the park when he’d been gone. Caylee was worried about her, too. It felt wrong to ask Kate, since she’d offered nothing about the tears herself, but he suspected the meltdown had something to do with him and the situation in which they found themselves now. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but he wanted to get to the bottom of what was going on with her.
On the Friday before the Copper Mountain Rodeo, they’d driven into town early to get a few supplies before picking up the kids from school and were surprised to see that Main Street had been transformed into a sparkly showplace in preparation for the dinner and dance that would take place the next night. Banners flew from every light post and flyers graced every storefront window announcing the dinner and dance that would be a fundraiser for the future Children’s Pediatric Wing of the Marietta Hospital—a cause he was more than willing to support after what had happened to Cutter. After some discussion earlier in the week, he had talked Kate into being his date.
He’d left her shopping with Olivia while he went to see Ben Tyler, ostensibly to check on how his arm was healing. But he had an ulterior motive.
After Ben quit laughing over Finn’s lime-green cast that matched his son’s, and taking a new x-ray to check on the healing, he asked why he’d really come to see him. Because clearly Finn had something else on his mind.
“I want you to give me access to my hand, Doc,” he told Ben. “I’m riding in the rodeo this weekend and I might need the use of it. It’ll only be for those two nights.”
“You’re kidding me, right?” Ben said.
“Nope.” He drew a finger around the edge of his wrist. “Just cut off the cast around my hand so I can grip the rope if I need to when I’m dismounting the bull. Otherwise, I could get hung up there. This thing—” he said, indicating the cast wrapping around his thumb—“won’t work.”
“Just...cut off the cast.” Ben shook his head. “Do I need to remind you that you have a fracture? That part of the cast gives the bone in your arm stability.”
“Okay, then. I’ll Ace bandage the thing.”
“Not the same.”
“I know. But it’s only for the weekend. If you won’t do it, I guess I can find a hack saw somewhere.”
At that, Ben scowled. “You know, I’m not so much worried about the hand as I am about the rest of you coming off that bull. But no. I’ll do it. It’ll be against doctor’s advice. And I won’t guarantee you’ll have the strength you need in that hand to pull that rope at any rate. That will put a lot of undue pressure on that fracture.”
“Oh, I’ll pull it. Better than getting hung up and dragged all over kingdom come. Right? Besides, I’ve got no choice. I have to ride. And I have to win.”
“I’m a doctor,” Ben said, pulling the electric saw from a nearby drawer. “Of all the reasons I’ve heard for people to try to sabotage their healing, that one just might take the cake. But you win. It’s your arm.” He kicked up the power on the saw and the thing gave a high-pitch whine. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” As he turned Finn’s already-battered cast so his hand faced up, he asked, tugging a piece of straw from his wrist. “What the devil have you been doing with this thing? Using it as a hammer?”
Finn grinned, as Ben dug the saw into the plaster. “What? I wasn’t supposed to?”
***
“That one,” Olivia told Kate, who was modeling the fourth outfit she’d chosen at the new boutique on Main Street. “Definitely that one.”
Glancing in the mirror, Kate eyed the turquoise Vince Camuto v-neck jumpsuit from all angles in the mirror. “I don’t know. Too casual?”
“That color is perfect with your red hair. And if I had your legs, I’d wear it.”
“Says the girl with equestrian’s legs,” Kate teased.
She sighed. “It’s all in the perspective.” A woman exited the second dressing room and eyed Kate’s outfit longingly before she moved along. “See?”
Kate glanced at the price tag and her eyes widened. “Oh. Shoot. I can’t afford this.”
“Yes, you can. And if you’re short, I’ll help you. You look amazing in that and Finn will not be able to keep his hands off you.”
“That is not the point,” Kate told her emphatically.
“Isn’t it? My bad.” A little cat-like grin tipped the corners of her mouth. “The point is, you have nothing fabulous to wear and you need it. Right?”
“I shouldn’t even be going.”
“What? Of course you should!”
With a last glance in the mirror, Kate said, “I feel like a fraud.”
“For being in love with him?” Olivia asked.
“That kind of talk doesn’t help.”
“The truth, you mean?”
“Oh, who cares about the truth when I’ve already blown the whole thing. As always. That’s part of my charm, isn’t it, Liv? Leaving a minefield of destruction behind me?”
“That’s not true and you know it. You’re the best person I know, Kate and I’m not saying that just because I’m your sister. You’re the one who came to New York and sat at my bedside until you knew I would be okay after my riding accident. And long afterward. You were the one who never gave up on my chances to ride again, or on the possibility that I could start over and fall in love for real. And look what happened.” She shrugged. “So you’ve broken a few hearts. They were the wrong ones anyway. But, Kate. It’s time to stop running and to start fighting for what you deserve. Why don’t you just tell him you love him and get it over with? Why not just come clean about everything? Isn’t it time?”
“Because, as if what’s happened already isn’t bad enough, I can’t tank his chances for tomorrow with the truth. It’d be cruel to sabotage him that way just to clear my conscience.” She stared out the front plate glass window of the store at the decorations going up on Main Street. “Anyway, I’ve had Dad’s ‘special research assistant’ looking into things for me.”
Olivia looked alarmed. “You don’t mean that Trey Reyes?”
“Um...yeah. That’s the one.”
“Does Dad know?” Olivia’s tone implied that hiring a mobster from
the New Jersey shore might have been less dangerous.
“No. And don’t tell him.” Trey Reyes didn’t live anywhere near Marietta, Montana. In fact, he was from Los Angeles, but he’d worked for her father for years on cases that required both discretion and an uncanny ability to uncover the truth. Technically, he wasn’t a P.I., nor was he a cop, though she suspected he’d been both of those things at one time. His own history, according to rumor, was as shadowy as those people he investigated, but his past was as off limits as he seemed to be. She knew, because she’d tried flirting with him once and gotten absolutely nowhere. Which was, perhaps, why he hadn’t made her empty her entire bank account to hire him this time. There might have been a trace of pity involved.
“I’m getting lost in all the secrets I’m keeping for you, Kate,” Olivia admonished crossly. “This has got to stop.”
“Well, as luck would have it—or not—the hearing is on Wednesday in Missoula.”
“Which means you’re going to come clean to him as soon as the rodeo’s over, right?”
Dread crept over her at the thought. “I think I will take this jumpsuit,” she said. “Screw the cost.” She disappeared back into the dressing room, avoiding Olivia’s sanctioning look. Yes, she would tell him on Sunday, but her confession wasn’t something she would discuss with anyone but him. At least she owed him that much.
She pulled her phone out and checked her messages. Nothing from Reyes. She sighed. He’d been working for her for almost a week now. Why hadn’t he called her? He’d forbidden her to contact him from her cell, for fear that whoever had hacked her had invaded more than just her emails. But pay phones were practically non-existent anymore and the one she’d managed to call him from was in Livingston. No answer.
As the clock ticked down, it was becoming more and more apparent that no one was going to save her from what had to be done. She was going to have to fess up and take what was coming to her.
Slipping out of the jumpsuit, she pulled her jeans and red silk top back on. She would think about all this tomorrow. Or Sunday, after the finals. For now, she still had one twirly pink dress to find for a certain five-year-old girl.
***
The Saturday of the Copper Mountain Rodeo dawned on a perfect day. Rain, the afternoon before, had polished the air, leaving nothing but that sweet scent of Montana drifting on the gentle breeze.
Finn had gone back and forth about letting the twins watch him ride. Especially after what had happened the weekend before in Missouri. But since this might be his last ride, ever, he decided to let them come to the event with Kate. He’d drawn a good bull for this afternoon’s ride, named Chile Pepper and he’d relaxed a fraction that he hadn’t drawn the bull that had nearly killed Brody last weekend, who’d been assigned to some other rider.
Kate held her tongue about Ben Tyler hacking off his cast, knowing Finn was probably right. He needed use of his hand just in case. But that did nothing to boost her confidence about the day. He needed a win, but first he had to pass the short go, or the prelims.
She remembered from years past, that the day of an event usually found him off alone, mentally girding himself for the upcoming challenge. Bull riding was the last event of the day, but he surprised her by suggesting they all go early so the kids could see the calf roping, steer wrestling and—the event that ultimately stole Caylee’s imagination—barrel racing.
From the outside, the four of them could have been mistaken for a family. And, in fact, some of his old friends from days past, did just that when they met her—assumed she was his wife. He introduced her simply as Kate—not as his wife or his children’s nanny. She did her best to be gracious and pointedly avoided making eye contact with people she knew. But that was nearly impossible, considering she’d spent most of her life here and knew or recognized nearly everyone in town.
During the calf roping, when Finn went for drinks. Caylee climbed onto Kate’s lap and leaned her back against her chest. To wrap her arms around the little girl and imagine she belonged to her felt as natural as breathing. Of course, nothing could be further from the truth. But now and then, against her own counsel, she let herself pretend. That was when she glanced up, and found Finn standing at the end of their row with the sun pouring down on him, looking...bemused. His hazel eyes had gone all dark the way they did when he sent her a private look. And she felt a rush of heat tumble through her.
He looked so damned handsome in his plaid shirt and Levis’ and that two-day scruff he always let grow on his jaw for good luck that she almost couldn’t catch her breath for a moment. And once he put on those leather chaps for his ride, she’d be toast.
But the emotion she saw in his eyes was the very thing she’d hoped to avoid, and seeing that look now made tears threaten. His look was one all fathers must get when they see their children happy. A snapshot of memory.
That snapshot included her.
In self-defense, she flashed him a quick smile back, then broke the moment by flagging down the nearest shaved ice vendor.
“I just talked to Janie Walker,” he told her a few minutes later, when the kids were all settled in consuming liquid sugar. “Brody’s wife. She called to wish me luck.”
His friend who’d been injured last weekend. She held her breath. “That was nice of her. How’s Brody?”
“He’s doing better. Looks like with a lot of rehab, he’ll walk again, but his riding days are done.”
“That’s good news, no?” Everyone knew the sport of bull riding had a short window and when that window closed, the athletes who gave that sport up found other careers.
He nodded. “I was thinking, maybe he’d be interested in running the bull breeding business with me. I like him and I could use a partner, someone to share the work and the responsibility—I mean—once he’s back on his feet. Who knows? Maybe he’d be interested. What do you think?”
She blinked. “What do I think?” I think we shouldn’t be talking about a future where my opinion matters.
“Yeah,” he said. “I want to know.”
She filled her mouth with shaved ice. “I—I don’t...that would have to be your decision. I—I’m just the nanny, remember?” she said, glancing pointedly down at the little girl slurping a shaved ice in her lap. “But if you want a partner, then someone who’s made a name for himself in the business, like you, sounds like a good choice. And asking him...that’s very kind of you.”
“Kind...? No. I’d be lucky if he said yes.”
“Then you should ask him.”
He watched her for a long moment, as if he were about to say something. Then, he half-smiled and stared down at the tips of his boots. “Yeah. Maybe I will. Listen, I’d better go and get ready.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll see you after, okay?” He had the impulse to kiss her, but he stopped himself.
He started to get up, but she caught his hand. “Finn?”
“Yeah?”
“Have a good ride.”
He lifted the tips of her fingers to his mouth and kissed them. “I will.”
And her heart stutter-stopped.
***
“We’re in store for a real treat today, folks,” said the announcer over the loudspeaker as Finn climbed into the chute where his bull was waiting. “Some of you might remember him from the PBR circuit, but now he’s a local boy, who isn’t letting a broken arm stop him from keeping his commitment to ride here today. Finn Scott will be on Chile Pepper! Let’s have a big Marietta hand for him.”
The crowd erupted into applause and cheering. That kind of thing always surprised him, with so much time intervening since he used to be somebody. He didn’t allow himself to enjoy the recognition. Just another distraction. He simply lifted his cowboy hat and tried to focus on the task at hand.
He’d waited through twelve other riders before his turn came up. As he settled himself down onto Chile Pepper’s back, the bull stomped his hooves impatiently and tried to bang him into the walls of the chute. He lifted his leg in time to keep
his limb from getting crushed against the thick metal bars. His heart raced and slammed against his ribcage. Adrenaline usually took care of his nerves, but Brody’s accident last week had shaken him.
Focus.
“You okay, Finn?” asked Gil Bratcher, the gatekeeper, as he helped tighten the bull rope around Chile Pepper’s broad belly.
“Just give me a minute,” he answered, flexing the fingers of his right gloved hand under the grip of the bull rope as he wound the strap around behind his hand, then tucked the leather against his palm.
He’d made the switch to a Brazilian bull rope a few rodeos ago, and felt safer with it. Hang ups rarely happened using them because of their design. But they’d taken a little getting used to as the grip started slightly off center instead of directly over the bull’s spine. He wondered, absently, if Brody had used a Brazilian last week and if not, if he would have avoided a wreck.
The countdown clock was ticking. Beneath him, the bull quivered, ready to go. The score to beat was 90.2. Ladd Mitchell had ridden the whole eight seconds, but his was still a beatable score.
He deliberately kept his gaze from the arena stands where his family sat, to stay focused on what he was about to do. But just thinking about Kate in the circle of his ‘family’ sent warmth spreading through him. Predictably, so did panic at the thought of the hearing next week. But he pushed that worry aside.
Not now. Think about the two thousand pounds of muscle under you.
Remember why you’re doing this. Get your head in it.
He pounded a fist against the closed fingers of his hold hand.
With a deep breath, he nodded to Gil Bratcher who pulled the gate open.
Chile Pepper exploded from the chute with a quick left turn, then sun-fished to his right. Finn hung on, touching the bull’s sides with the dull rowels of his spurs. He felt the pump of his heartbeat match the slam of hooves against the ground.
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