He trailed her down the hall and back into the foyer, where Velma was waiting with her pins.
"There you are, dear. I thought I'd lost you."
"Here I am. Unfortunately, I need to go." Lila didn't look at him.
"Oh no. I need to finish pinning this robe. We've only got a few days to get the costumes just right."
He could see Lila was upset, but she submitted to Velma's measuring and pinning, staring straight ahead, though the rapid movements of her eyes told him her mind was working.
She still pretended he wasn't here.
Lila might want to ignore him, but that didn't mean he had to take it.
"If you need help, why didn't you ask me?"
Now her eyes flicked to his. She returned her gaze to the obviously fascinating blank wall in front of her. "I don't need help."
And what he heard was I don't need your help.
"What's going on, dear?" Velma asked through her mouth full of pins. "You all right?"
"Yes." Lila glared at him. "I'm working on a...project. And I think I've got it handled. I'm just waiting on Anna to call me back."
He crossed his arms again, staring at her as she stared back. She was so stubborn.
But he wasn't letting this chance pass him by.
* * *
Lila's relief at shaking Ben was short-lived. She found him leaning against the drivers' side door of her Chevelle, the collar of his fleece-lined jean jacket pulled up. His arms were still crossed. It seemed like his constant disapproval seeped out through his stance whenever he looked at her.
"Let's make a deal," he said. "I'll help you out tonight if you come out to the ranch."
Anna still hadn't returned her call. She'd tried twice more, even texted Anna's fiancé Kelly, but no one had returned her messages.
It irritated her that Ben had eavesdropped on her phone calls, but in the last half hour, her situation had gone from difficult to desperate. If she could convince Eric that she could care for this horse, maybe she could spur him on to help the gelding.
"You need a horse trailer. I've got a trailer."
She didn't want to take his deal, but time was short, and it looked like she had no choice.
"Fine."
Even with the dimness of twilight, she didn't miss the flare of triumph in his eyes.
It sparked something in her. Attraction maybe? No, certainly not. "I'm in a hurry. Can I have your keys?"
His lips widened in a slow, wicked smile. "I never said I was giving you the truck. I'll take you where you need to go."
3
The mare was pregnant. And underweight. Her hooves and teeth were in horrid condition.
After a half hour car ride—where Lila had mulishly given him the silent treatment—they'd arrived at a small farm he wasn't familiar with. Half of the barbed wire fencing that separated the property from the road was knocked down. The mobile home was badly in need of a paint job, maybe a new roof.
And then, that horse. It curdled Ben's stomach to see it.
The sheriff argued with the property owner near the mobile home a good fifty yards from the open-air corral where Ben and Lila stood beside the trailer he'd backed up to the gate. She had her elbows clasped in her hands, like her coat wasn't doing its job. His wasn't either, the cold night air creeping beneath his coat to tighten up his scar tissue. He breathed through it.
Every time the occasional shout punctuated the chill, Lila's head jerked in that direction.
He'd thought she was buying a horse. When he'd discovered she was helping rescue this one, he'd been shocked.
The fact that she was so obviously frightened by the property owner's anger but sticking through her fear with that stubborn tilt of her chin was also something he didn't want to think too hard about.
All they needed was to get the animal loaded up, but the mare paced nervously by the fence on the opposite side of the corral.
Lila slowly circled the corral, heading away from the trailer. Several yards down the fence, she propped her elbows on the top railing. What was she doing? Watching the horse? He couldn't read her face, though he wanted to.
Ben glanced back at the sheriff, who gave a thumbs up above his head, now talking more quietly with the homeowner.
Ben took a bucket of oats from a hook in the back of the trailer and stepped just inside the pen. He rattled the bucket.
The mare's ears flicked forward, but she took another loop in her anxious pacing.
The sheriff joined them and with a nod to Ben, moved around behind the pen. He gave the animal some encouragement—Ben was too far away to hear his words—but she only shied into the center of the pen, now well away from all three of them.
Someone was going to have to go inside and get her.
Lila passed him—when had she left the railing?—a long coil of rope in her hands.
"Lila," he hissed.
Of course she ignored him. Stubborn woman. She meandered toward the horse, taking her time, slowly looping the rope in what he recognized as a temporary halter. If she could get close enough to slip it over the animal's head, maybe they could lead her into the trailer.
But if she got too close and the horse spooked, she could get knocked down or trampled.
Instinct held him back as she approached the animal, still at a snail's pace. He didn't want to be the one to scare the animal.
Her back to him, Lila spoke softly. She was nearly there.
Then, before she'd reached the animal, she stopped short.
His heard pounded. Had she seen something, some twitch of an ear or flare of a nostril that he hadn't? Was she in danger?
Balanced on the balls of his feet, he still hesitated.
Everything seemed frozen in the cold. Everything except the white clouds bursting from the horse's nostrils.
As he watched, the horse took one tentative step in Lila's direction. Then another.
He held his breath. Lila raised her hand and touched the bridge of the animal's nose, slowly rubbed up to its forelock. She raised the rope, allowed the horse to sniff it, then slipped the halter over the horse's head.
She didn't even have to give a tug. As she turned toward him, the animal came even with her and walked beside her across the pen.
It balked once, with a bob of its head, when they neared Ben. To his extreme surprise, Lila reached out and laid her palm on his forearm.
The animal blew out a breath and then seemed to accept Lila's gesture.
Ben was blown away by the sight of tears rolling unchecked down Lila's face.
He stood still as she led the animal into the trailer and secured it. She still murmured to the animal, a continuous stream of words. Giving comfort, but who would comfort her?
What had made her cry?
Since she'd returned to town, he'd seen a cool, stubborn woman always in control, even when she was acting impulsive and adventurous.
But not tonight.
When she exited the trailer, her eyes glittered in the starlight, but her face was dry.
"Are you all right?" It was a dumb question considering what he'd just seen, but he was a simple cowboy and what could he say? A woman's tears still tripped him up, even after the five years of marriage he'd shared with Mia.
"I'm fine." The coolness had returned to her voice, and her chin jutted out stubbornly.
He made sure the animal was secure, then closed the trailer doors as she spoke to the sheriff and climbed into his truck. He got in and cranked the heat up, shucking his leather gloves and flexing his fingers against the cold that had settled into them. The ache in his chest would take longer to fade. He blew on his fingers, watching her from the corner of his eye.
Her shoulders were straight, her head high, and she stared out the window as if he weren't there.
Big surprise.
Unfortunately, he couldn't unsee what he'd seen tonight.
Lila had more layers than he—or maybe anyone—knew about. And who did she have in her life to dig into those layers an
d make sure she was all right? Her family was gone, and although he knew she'd made close friends with Anna and Melody since she'd come to town, he also had seen how well she could pretend that everything was all right.
Suddenly, Lila seemed way too much like the battered mare riding in the trailer behind them. But who would rescue her?
* * *
Lila knew the silence couldn't last as Ben carefully navigated the rutted back roads, aiming the truck back toward Redbud Trails.
She hadn't meant for him to see her tears.
Obviously, this was one of those times that her impulsivity was going to bite her in the butt.
She hadn't been back on a horse since her childhood. She'd been thrown from the horse of life and thrown good. Running had been her M.O. and it had served her well. Until now.
Was she having a quarter-life crisis? She'd read a news article about the phenomenon happening to kids who graduated college and then didn't know what to do with themselves.
A crisis was the only thing that could've led her back to Redbud Trails.
She hadn't thought about the repercussions of getting involved when she'd called the sheriff about that mistreated horse near the Circle A. And when he'd offered her a part in helping this horse, she hadn't refused.
Had she somehow thought she would be able to rescue this animal from afar, without getting close enough to touch?
Her heart had broken when she'd seen the neglected animal. Of course, that broken heart hadn't been enough to get her inside that pen. No, she'd had no intention of approaching it until she'd seen the whites of the mare's eyes, her intense fear of the men.
Lila hadn't really thought about her actions. A purely impulsive move.
She certainly hadn't realized her heart would break all over again just by touching the horse, by getting close enough to make that connection, small as it was.
"You wanna grab something to eat? The diner's still open."
Ben's words startled her out of the tenuous quiet she'd slipped into, her eyes on the fields passing them by.
"I'm okay."
She just wanted to get away from him. Get back to her apartment and lick her wounds.
"You should eat. It's gonna be a long night. Vet's on her way, but it might be awhile until we can get this gal settled."
We? There was no we here.
And then she realized he hadn't taken the turn to Anna's ranch. "I thought you were taking me to Anna's place."
"You thought wrong. You've been away from home long enough. It's time, don't you think?"
Frustration rose in a flood, and tears pricked her eyes. Which made her even more angry. "I know you worked for my dad. Was this some kind of last wish he laid on you? To get me home no matter how much I don't want to be there?"
"There must be a part of you that wants to be there, or you wouldn't come sit up on that hill so often. Your car could probably drive out there on its own by now."
His calm, even words struck home, and she felt the familiar tightness take over her chest, making it hard to breathe. She'd thought she'd been so sneaky, driving the back way and staying well away from the farm buildings.
She turned her head to stare blindly out the window. She'd promised Eric she would take care of the mare. And if Ben already had the vet on the way out to the family ranch, that was that, wasn't it?
But it also meant she would be trapped there without a ride, because she'd allowed Ben to drive from the church parking lot.
Once again, she cursed her impulsivity.
"My wife was estranged from her family." He offered the words conversationally.
She was curious enough to turn her head. "You're married?"
He chuckled dryly. "Don't sound so surprised. I've got a steady job. I've been told I'm not bad to look at."
"You're humble," she said when she really meant the opposite.
"Mia used to say the same thing."
And then his use of past tense registered.
"She died four years ago this Christmas," he said as if he'd sensed her exact thoughts.
"I'm sorry." The words were inadequate and she knew it. Hadn't she heard them plenty herself? They didn't change the stinging loss, the aching emptiness inside.
He shifted in his seat. "She reconciled with her parents just before she passed. It was one of the most important things to her, there at the end."
He was preaching at her. As if he knew one iota of what she'd been through, what she'd done. "I wasn't estranged from my dad."
"Just from his life here."
By dad's choice. He was the one who'd sent her away.
He'd come to visit her where she'd happened to land each year. They'd pretended that the ranch didn't exist, and she'd been happy not to talk about those painful things.
There was no way she could share that pain with Ben. He might understand her loss, but he wouldn't—couldn't—understand her guilt.
She changed the subject. "What was she like? Your wife?"
"She was pretty"—he glanced at her briefly—"like you. She was a blonde, though."
Her cheeks flushed at his words. Ben found her pretty? Not that it mattered. He was too entrenched in her parents' ranch. Nothing could be between them, no matter how attractive she found him.
4
Back at the Circle A, Ben helped Lila unload the mare into a large box stall, mostly unused, in the back corner of the stable. It was usually used for mares when they gave birth, so it seemed the best choice now. Well away from the other animals, if there was any disease she needed to be quarantined for, she should be safe back here.
After visiting the rundown little farm and knowing that Lila hadn't been back in years, he saw the place how she must see it. Barn clean and airy, smelling of fresh hay. Warm and out of the cutting wind.
He couldn't help but notice Lila's tension, though she was kind to Sarah, the veterinarian, whom the sheriff had called for them.
From the moment his tires had crunched onto the front drive for the quarter-mile trek to the compound, she'd been silent and tense.
Her arms came around her midsection once, when the big house had come into sight, as if she were holding herself together. Somehow she looked smaller, seemed to shrink inside herself. This was not the Lila who'd never been afraid to tell him to go to heck.
There was a small part of him that wanted to reach for her. Comfort her, somehow.
It was like seeing her tears when they'd picked up the neglected horse had pulled back the curtain. He would never see her the same way again.
But when she caught him looking, she straightened, shifted into a loose-limbed, confidence-exuding stance.
He knew better. She was hiding what she really felt behind a mask.
He was the one who'd brought her here. He'd done it to bring resolution—the ranch needed an owner, not just a caretaker.
But bringing her here hurt her, somehow. And he'd done it, so it was his job to fix it.
* * *
Ben was driving her crazy. Hovering like a mother hen, except when the vet asked him questions.
It irked her that the vet assumed he knew more about the horse than she did. They both had the same information, but the horse had been turned over into her care, not his.
Being here was difficult.
Perhaps she could hitch a ride home with the vet, who was almost done with her exam. Lila hadn't been acquainted with the leggy blonde before tonight, but she liked the woman's no-nonsense approach.
But if she ran off, Lila had a feeling Ben would come after her and demand that she fulfill her side of their bargain. He was determined like that.
Hadn't she thought earlier today that maybe it was time to wrap things up and leave Redbud Trails behind?
Maybe she could just Band-Aid it. Get this visit over with. Go through with the nativity. Be packed by Christmas morning.
The vet wrapped up with the portable ultrasound machine and met them outside the stall while the technician packed their things into the tru
ck.
"Her colt is due any day."
"Can she—is she in any condition to go through labor?" Lila asked.
The vet glanced at Ben, and Lila's gaze followed.
His expression had closed off. His face had gone white. Something in Lila's question or Sarah's non-answer had unnerved him. But surely they'd had plenty of cattle born each spring. This couldn't be much different.
"I don't know," Sarah said. "If we can get some nutrients into her, fatten her up a little before the big event, it will help. If she starts having trouble, call me."
She gave them both further instructions on feeding the mare and some pain meds she gave them for her teeth after the extensive filing she'd been given, but Lila found it hard to pay attention. Her gaze kept wandering out the barn doors to the ranch house.
Finally, the vet drove off. Which left the two of them and the unnatural tension.
"You want to go up to the main house?" Ben asked.
She really didn't. She blinked against those last, vivid memories.
He seemed to realize she couldn't without her saying so. He took her elbow and turned her toward the small cottage that created a triangle with the barn and house. "I bet Norma"—the housekeeper—"left some supper for me. Since you wouldn't let me stop at the diner, I'll bring it over to my place. It'll be unlocked. Why don't you go in, make yourself comfortable."
She walked across the yard on wooden legs, not minding the cold wind as it slapped at her cheeks. She paused on the threshold, but a burst of wind at her back pressed her forward, and she found herself inside before she'd really thought it through.
She'd been in the foreman's house maybe once during her childhood. With free run of the big house and the barn, she'd had been no need to visit before.
She flipped on the switch next to the door. Lights flicked on, a lamp in two corners of the room and a can light above a rock fireplace.
If she'd expected a bachelor pad, she'd have been sorely disappointed. It was cute. Trendy, even. A pair of warm, neutral couches with brightly colored pillows flanked the fireplace on both sides and invited her to sit. A squat butcher-block coffee table was covered in several farming magazines and a pad of lined paper.
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