by Marina Adair
There was something magical about this group of women. When they got together there wasn’t a single life they couldn’t touch in a positive way.
“Last time I watched someone ride that bull, it was my Jonas,” Wanda Mallory, retired librarian and Sequoia Lake’s resident grandma, said. “We’d just seen that Nicholas Sparks movie about the bull rider, and Jonas wanted to prove he didn’t have to be a young gun to last eight seconds.” Wanda shook her head, but her eyes were glazed over with longing. “Silly man ended up leaving here with a bag of frozen peas on his parts.”
“Did he last the eight seconds?” Mavis asked with the seriousness of discussing world politics. All of the ladies leaned forward in one collective movement.
Wanda gave a bright smile, then waggled a suggestive brow. “Even went a second round when we got home.”
“Earmuffs,” Liv said, covering her ears. “You babysit my son with that mouth.”
“Which reminds me, I’m free to sit Paxton next month for Spring Fling if you need me to.” Wanda steepled her fingers beneath her chin. “With Jonas gone I wasn’t going to go this year. So”—she dragged out the word—“if you wanted to go with Chuck—”
Liv’s mouth gaped open in horror. “The guy who works the meat counter at Bunny Slope Super Market?”
“I heard he was thinking of asking you,” Wanda sang. “Even set aside some nice lamb chops for when you do your usual Monday shopping.”
“Lamb chops, now that’s romantic.” Irene sat back and let out a wistful sign. “Dale used to bring me pinecones.”
“Pinecones?” Avery asked.
Irene’s eyes lit, and for the first time in weeks she didn’t look so tired. “Oh yes. One year I saw a picture of this table setting Martha Stewart did and mentioned how lovely it would look on our table. It was silver-and-red themed with wood accents and a candleholder in the middle of the table. Not just any candleholder, but one made from a giant Coulter cone. Without telling me why, Dale planned a trip with the boys to Bear Valley, and they brought me home three perfect Coulter cones, which I made into holders.”
“That’s sweet,” Avery said, her heart melting a little. Dale had not only gone out of his way to make Irene feel special, but he’d brought her a present that took thought and deep understanding of his wife.
Most men would have sent flowers. Carson always sent flowers.
“Every year after, he’s brought me a different kind of cone for the table.”
“Sweet and romantic,” Avery said, and Liv pinned Avery with a you are so not helping right now glare.
“Creative or not, Chuck is, like, fifty,” Liv pointed out.
The silvered women at the table exchanged confused looks. But it was Mavis who spoke. “Free lamb chops, dear. Offers like that don’t come along too often.”
“He’s fifty!” Liv repeated, and it was clear that the ladies didn’t see the problem with a thirty-year age gap. “That would be like you dating someone who was ninety.”
Mavis considered this. “Does he have his real teeth?”
Liv took on the same panicked expression she got when the idea of dating was broached. Avery knew that what started as a little gasping and uncomfortable sputtering could quickly turn to tears—or a breakout of hives.
“I don’t think Liv is ready to start dating yet,” Avery offered with a supportive wink.
A collective ah of understanding filled the room followed by several women saying, “We got you, honey.” The ladies might not understand passing up free chops, but they could all empathize with not being ready to move on.
Liv blew Avery a grateful kiss across the table, and Avery felt that familiar warmth that came whenever she saw her friends moving forward. Liv might not be ready to date, but she didn’t look devastated by the suggestion as she once would have.
“How about you?” Mavis’s gaze locked onto Grace, who was doing her best to blend into the wallpaper in a pair of nondescript khakis, a baggy white button-up that swallowed her whole, and cream ballet flats—all of which were speckled with various colors of paint. “You could use some lamb chops. You’ve got plans for the Spring Fling?”
Grace flushed from neck to forehead, her gaze zeroing in on the exit, most likely running through every route she could use to flee. Grace was a private person by nature. Even when they were young, she’d shied away from the spotlight and would rather leave the state than invite someone into her home—even if they came baring lamb chops. And when she was cornered, she tended to shout ridiculous things.
So Avery wasn’t surprised when Grace shouted, “I’m not looking to date right now either, but you know who is?” Grace’s attention went from the exit to her decoy. “Avery.”
Twelve sets of eyes ricocheted around the room, from one end of the table to her.
“Grace,” Avery hissed.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, appearing completely horrified by her outburst. “But it’s true, she even kissed someone.”
Avery felt her cheeks heat. “He was a stranger.” Even though it was the truth, she avoided looking Irene’s way because, sure, she hadn’t known who Ty was when she’d kissed him at the bar, but she knew now, and she still dreamed about kissing him. “And I did it for Bella. It was the one thing she wished she’d had time to do, go back to Paris and kiss the man who gave her a rose.”
The man who had made her friend feel beautiful and treasured with a single romantic gesture. Bella had held on to the rose, a keepsake from a memorable moment in her life, and now it was in Avery’s journal, next to a Fearless Red lipstick kiss on a bar napkin from Backwoods Brewhouse.
“You take your first guests on a trek, and now we hear you kissed a stranger.” Irene highlighted the last word in a way that had Avery swallowing hard. “Bella is probably up there right now bubbling over with joy. I imagine her wearing that pretty red dress of hers, looking . . . well . . .” Irene tilted her head to the side, studying Avery like a mother would study her son’s new girlfriend. “Like you do right now.”
Liv coughed something that sounded a lot like awkward, and Grace busted out laughing. Irene, however, kept her focus on Avery, her smile big and mischievous.
“If I had a wish, it would be to ride on a hog again,” Mavis said. “One more night with the motor rumbling beneath me, the wind in my face, and a good-looking man pressed to my front as we burn rubber down the interstate, the moon lighting our way.” She closed her eyes and sighed with delight. “To remember what it feels like to be young.”
Avery saw more joy radiate off Mavis in that moment than she had in the entire two years since losing her ability to walk without a cane. Even talking about it, she looked younger, took on a lighter energy. Avery couldn’t imagine how trapped a woman who cherished her freedom like Mavis would feel when facing a future confined to a wheelchair. She wasn’t in her chair yet, but at the rate her MS was going, the doctors didn’t think it would be much longer. And wasn’t that a heartbreak of a reality.
Avery pulled out her memory journal from her purse and flipped to a blank page. Smiling, she wrote TAKE A WILD RIDE IN THE MOONLIGHT.
Mavis peeked over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”
“Making you a page,” Avery explained. “This journal is a way for me to honor people I love. And I want to honor you, Mavis.”
Mavis flushed. “You want to honor me?”
“Yes, I do. You’re adventurous and loud, and you never give up fighting,” Avery said gently. “You also brought me an endless supply of magazines and wild ideas for trips when I was in the hospital, and I want to honor those parts of you and put you in my book. If that’s okay.”
Mavis smoothed her hair down. “I’d be honored.” And having reached her emotional capacity for the night, she punched Avery gently in the arm.
“Even though most of the people in her book have passed, a few are in a place where they can’t fulfill their wishes. Look at Caroline,” Irene pointed out. “They finally found a donor match, which means in a few m
onths she will be back in school, playing dress up, and laughing with her friends like a normal little girl.”
Normal, Avery thought, such a trivial thing for most people. But for someone fighting for her life, it was a powerful motivator. There were days that just a flash of normal, like going to a high school dance, was enough to pull Avery through the worst of it. So the thought of helping Caroline play dress up, her favorite pastime, made Avery’s chest soar.
Mavis fluffed her hair. “While you are all honoring me, remember that in my day I was a real catch. Red hair, big boobs, pretty. Just like I am now, only lighter and fewer wrinkles. So the rider would have to be a daredevil with thighs of steel, a butt so tight it could bounce quarters into space, and a mustache.”
Grace frowned. “A mustache?”
“This is my wish, freckles, so back off,” Mavis snapped. “When it’s your turn to dress the wish up, you can ask for whatever you like. Me? I like mustaches. Handlebar ones.”
Wanda smacked a bony hand on the table. “Well, if Mavis gets to ride a motorcycle with a hot bad boy, what about you riding that bull in honor of my Jonas tonight? The crown is for Caroline, but the ride could be a way to celebrate how that man would do anything to make me laugh.”
“As long as I don’t have to ride home with a bag of frozen peas, I’ve got some cowboy stickers at home, just waiting for a page,” Avery said right as the door opened and in walked a group of mountain-climbing wild men bearing chiseled bodies, wind-chapped faces, and enough alpha swagger to send Mavis into cardiac arrest.
Avery was having some palpitation problems of her own, because pulling up the back in butt-hugging pants, a look-at-my-pecs pullover, and a smile that was 100 percent hey, girl, was her stranger, looking rugged and—right her way.
“Look who just walked in,” Irene cooed, walking over to give her son a hug. “Hey there, stranger.” The last word was said in a way that let Avery know the older woman was onto her and Ty.
She tried to roll her eyes, but they were too focused on the sweet way Ty pulled his mother into him, holding her in a protective manner that made swallowing difficult. Ty might play down how much he missed seeing his family, but it was clear in the way he held Irene, as if she were the most treasured thing in his life, that they were close.
Avery had seen it before, the kind of bond families shared when they lose a member too early. Irene had started Living for Love a few years after losing her son, which meant that Ty had left home after losing his brother. Which might explain why he rarely came back.
She didn’t know the whole story surrounding Garrett’s death, only that he’d been too young to go and his death had nearly ripped their family apart. But unlike Avery’s family, Irene had managed to pull them back together. Watching the two of them cling to each other now, Avery could see the lingering scars and struggles—and the unconditional and unwavering support.
It was such an intimate moment, one she’d hoped to share with her own father when her mom passed, that she felt as if she was intruding, so she busied herself with grooming her boa.
Avery’s dad had been there for her during her treatments, in every way that he could physically be, but emotionally he didn’t have anything left to give. Years of fighting to save his soul mate only to lose her in the end had changed him. Made him withdraw into his work, focus on things he could control. Avery had understood his pain, his need to distract himself, but she still felt his absence.
“What are you doing here?” she heard Ty ask.
“We came to cheer on Avery as she claims her crown.” She looked between the two of them, and Avery could see the light twinkle wildly in the woman’s eyes. It was the same wild twinkle Irene got when she’d introduced Art to Helga. “You know Avery, right, honey?”
“You know I do, Mom.”
“Of course! You two went on an adventure yesterday,” Irene said, but that didn’t stop her from taking Ty’s hand and dragging him away from his group. A group of big badass men who were all grinning at her. Because they all knew what Avery knew.
Irene wasn’t just being polite. As the town’s resident matchmaker, she was looking to make a love connection. Only Ty wasn’t sticking around long enough for that—and Avery had a bull to ride. She was looking to leave her mark. Make a difference.
Maybe after the crown was secure she wouldn’t mind spending some time with her tall and handsome trainer. Find out how it went with Dale yesterday, see how he felt about her progress as a guide. But mainly she wanted to see if that buzz she felt whenever he looked her way had to do with extreme situations they found themselves in or extreme chemistry.
Something that couldn’t be tested with Irene standing right there.
So when Irene turned to say something to Ty, Avery made a dash for the bar. She could hear Ty let out a loud clucking sound, which suited her fine. He could cluck all he wanted. If they found themselves in a romantic situation, it would be because he wanted it to happen, not because his mom invited her to Sunday dinner.
Reaching the bar, Avery took a seat and watched Harris navigate a keg of beer under the stainless-steel prep counter. “Is Widow Maker looking to make a new friend tonight?”
Harris hooked up the keg and turned. When he saw it was her he smiled. “Why, tiny? You looking to take a ride?”
“If it means having Ty whittle me a crown from twigs, you bet.”
He glanced at his cousin, who stood across the room but was clearly glaring back, and laughed. “In that case, the ride is on me. Roland’s not working tonight, but I know where he hides the keys.”
Harris grabbed a ring of keys from behind the cash register and then hopped over the bar. Slinging his arm around Avery, he pulled her close and quietly asked, “Should you be riding so soon after . . . ?” He waved a finger at her side—and Avery’s attention was brought to the tight skin around her scar.
“It’s been nearly a year.” She patted her scar with a confident smile. “I think I’m good.”
Harris didn’t look so convinced. Avery wasn’t either, but her riding that bull was worth a few aches. Caroline going into surgery with a crown was worth it all.
She gestured for Harris to go ahead of her. He gave her a long, disapproving stare, then acquiesced. “At least with that much orange, he’ll think you’re here to hunt not ride.”
“Maybe it will give me an edge,” she said as she followed him across the room, giving high fives and exploding rocks to everyone she passed. Even Ty’s buddies were cheering her on. Ty, however, didn’t look all that happy.
The fear of having to make a crown in front of his friends could do that to even the manliest of men, she thought, then sent him a pinkie wave. He didn’t wave back, pinkie or otherwise.
But her good humor quickly faded. The closer she got to Widow Maker, the louder the cheers got, and the bigger the bull looked. Then she was there, dressed in girly boots and an orange boa, looking up at a mountain of pounded steel that had taken down men twice her size.
She was crazy. This whole idea was crazy.
“You’re going to need all the edge you can get,” Harris said, putting the key into the machine. “Widow’s saddle weighs more than you.”
Now that she was here, ready to take the ride of her life, she wondered if she was making a mistake. Rushing things.
It had been nearly a year since her surgery, and she was getting stronger every day, even gaining back some of the weight she’d lost. But if she was thrown and landed wrong, her doctor would not be happy—and neither would her body.
“Second thoughts?” Harris asked.
Avery knew where her mom had stood on second thoughts. If she’d let fear rule her life, she never would have climbed Sierra Point when she did, which meant Lilian never would have had the chance to make that journey—create those memories that pulled her through to the end.
“No room for second thoughts when you get a second chance,” she said. “But I wouldn’t complain if you went easy on me.”
He s
lid her a wink. “I don’t set the bully meter, but I’ve never seen Widow Maker go hard on a pretty lady.”
“The tin man was just metal without his heart,” she said, mainly for her own ears. “And heart is my superpower.”
Harris looked up from the machine and smiled. It wasn’t smug or flirty, it was the kind of smile he got when talking about his daughter. It was such a sweet contrast, really—a big man in battered jeans, a leather jacket, and a smile that could go from walking, talking trouble to incredibly touching. It was a smile that had her thinking. Why not make everyone’s wishes come true tonight?
“You own a motorcycle, right?”
“Roxy,” he said, sounding as if he were talking about his second child. “She’s a sixty-six Harley Electro Glide with the original shovelhead engine and chrome. I rebuilt her from the ground up with my dad. She looks like she just came off the lot but purrs like she’s been around every block.”
“She sounds wild,” Avery said, not understanding a thing he said, other than Roxy was a motorcycle and Harris would look spectacular in leather chaps. “Would you be willing to take a lady on a ride sometime?” Avery asked, making sure to add in a little lash batting.
Harris tapped his chin with a finger and pretended contemplation. “I don’t know, it might make for some weird family reunions since you had your tongue down my cousin’s throat recently. Not that weird is bad. For you, tiny, I might be into weird.”
Avery smacked him in the chest. “I’m not asking for me.”
“Well, break my heart, why don’t you.” Charm dialed to swoon-worthy, Harris scanned the table at the back. “Which lady are we talking about?”
“What happened to your broken heart?”
“What happened to my cousin?” When Avery flushed he said, “That’s what I thought. Now, which lady is clamoring to ride my hog?”