by CP Smith
“But you said a man would have to be nuts to get involved with a woman like me.”
“He would,” Bo agreed, then leaned in and brushed a kiss across her lips. “Good thing I’m nuts.”
“Helloooo down there! Did you die or what?” Poppy shouted.
Bo looked up and gritted his teeth. He needed more time to make up for the hurt he’d caused her.
“Not yet. But the day isn’t over,” he shouted.
Sienna rolled her eyes. “I was never in danger.”
Bo raised a brow.
“Okay, maybe a little, but you know you would have done the same thing. That calf needed my help.”
Shaking his head, Bo pulled back and brought Sienna with him. “I’ll deal with the calf. You’re gonna stand right here where it’s safe.”
“Wait,” Sienna said, throwing up her hands to stall him.
“What?”
“Did you really come all the way out here for me?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Yes. But why?”
“Why?”
“Don’t parrot me. Why are you here?”
“I thought I made that clear.”
“You came all the way out here to kiss me and tell me you don’t hate me?” she asked suspiciously. “Why not wait until I got home?”
“Because you two together, unprotected, after the week we’ve lived through?” Bo shook his head. “Nothin’ but double trouble. You’ll end up ridin’ off a cliff or climbin’ down a fuckin’ tree and break your gorgeous neck.”
Her eyes softened. “You think I have a gorgeous neck?”
Pulling her closer, Bo leaned in slowly like he had that day on the beach. At the last moment, before he could brush his lips across hers, he detoured to her ear and whispered, “Every part of you is gorgeous. Your eyes, your hair, your great fuckin’ rack, but most especially, your heart.”
She shivered from his warm breath against her ear. “I’ll let the ‘great rack’ comment go,” she whispered, “since you brought up my heart.”
“Good. Now let’s get the calf and get the hell out of here.”
“One more thing,” she said, clutching his arms to keep him from moving back.
“Now what?”
“I still don’t understand why you were confused. If you say you wanted me from the moment you laid eyes on me, then what held you back?”
“You guys ready? Boris fashioned a harness out of a rope,” Poppy shouted.
“I’ll tell you, but not now,” Bo promised, then pushed away from the tree.
“Toss it down,” he instructed, then waited with his back to Sienna to try to discourage more questions.
“Bo?”
“Yeah?”
“Whatever it is, I can handle it.”
He closed his eyes. The urge to lie so she wouldn’t take offense was strong, but Bo believed in being truthful, and starting a relationship on a lie would only mean disaster.
“Please tell me,” she asked softly.
He dropped his head in defeat. One sweetly spoken plea, and he was ready to tell her anything she wanted. His future didn’t bode well if she used that tone on him whenever she wanted something.
“Can you handle the fact you reminded me of my mother?”
“Yes.”
Bo took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “She was beautiful,” he began, to soften the sting. “Had the voice of an angel, and hair the same color as yours. But she was headstrong, never listened to reason. She always did what she wanted no matter what my dad said . . . just like you.”
“Being an independent woman who knows what she wants and how to achieve it is not a negative in my book,” she bit out, incensed.
Bo closed his eyes and waited a beat before he answered. He’d spent the whole drive up trying to figure out the best way to explain his mother to her. In the end, it had to be the truth.
“It is when you put your own wants and needs over those of a ten-year-old boy and then leave him behind.”
“Are you sayin’ your mother left you behind?” she whispered.
“I am.”
“So, what you’re sayin’ is, you think I’m the kind of woman who would neglect a ten-year-old boy?” He could hear the hurt in her words and turned back to look at her. Her face had paled, and the pain reflected in her expression almost brought him to his knees. Shaking his head, Bo responded with conviction. “I wouldn’t be standin’ here right now if I thought you would.”
“But you said—”
“I said you reminded me of her. Not that you were like her. Your loyalty to your friends, the way you rush in without any fear to help those you love? That’s not like my mother. Devin was right when he said Calla was fearless. It’s a trait all three of you Wallflowers share.”
Her bottom lip began to tremble, and it cut like a hot knife through his gut. He started to take a step toward her, but she lowered her head and asked, “Do you have a relationship with your mother now?”
The knot that always seemed to constrict his throat at the mention of his mother threatened to choke him. Swallowing hard to clear his voice, he started to answer her, but Poppy shouted, “Incoming,” a few feet further up the ridge. She’d found a spot where she could easily toss the harness while avoiding the trees.
He stared at the harness, then turned back and looked at Sienna. He’d come this far, and he needed to finish it no matter the outcome. Whatever her reaction to the truth was, he wouldn’t sleep until he’d made up for the damage he’d caused.
“My mother is dead,” he finally said, then prayed to God he’d made the right decision. “She left me behind because her need for drugs was greater than her love for me. She overdosed.”
Sienna’s eyes grew wider, then brightened with moisture. When a single tear fell, he hissed, “Fuck,” and turned to pick up the harness to avoid seeing the pain he’d brought about.
He needed to get the calf up to its mother so he could concentrate on repairing the damage, but before he could turn back to Sienna and attempt an apology, there was a shriek from above. Bo turned toward the ridge line and looked up just as Poppy emerged and screamed, “Bo! Please, help me. Boris collapsed, and he isn’t breathing.”
Four
MAN OF ACTION
I CLOSED MY EYES AND said a prayer for Boris and Natasha, asking God to save his life and to give Bo the strength he needed to help the man as they sped away in a Bullwinkle Jeep.
Everything happened so fast, my head was still spinning. When Poppy had cried out, Bo had ordered her to tie a rope to the horn of a saddle and pull him up. She’d done as he said, and I watched with trepidation as Bo was lifted into the air, then up the ridge at a rapid pace. What seemed like hours passed before Poppy shouted that a Jeep was on its way to help. When they arrived, I was pulled out of the ravine just like Bo had been, and when I reached the top, I found Bo performing CPR on Boris with a portable defibrillator. I jerked when Boris contracted with the shock and held my breath as the machine’s electronic voice advised, “Hands off. Analyzing rhythm.” I held on to Poppy as this was repeated twice more until Boris’ color turned from a cold gray to a soft pink. When Boris’ leg moved, Poppy and I finally took a breath.
It was a surreal scene, set in the high country surrounded by cattle and a stunning vista, but the impact of how close we came to losing Boris was never more clear than when Natasha grabbed his hand, and cried out, “You will not die, you old coot. I forbid it.”
Bo checked his pulse as his chest began to rise and fall on its own. When Boris moaned, Bo nodded to the ranch hands, and they began preparing to load him onto a stretcher made out of heavy canvas and wooden supports. I wanted to help, but it was clear that Bo had everything under control. His ability in any given situation was another reason I was attracted to him. He oozed authority and confidence. He was an alpha male with piercing eyes that said he’d lead in any situation, and he expected to be followed. In short, he made me feel safe in an otherwise dangerous w
orld.
He was a man of action rather than inaction, and that side of him was hard to resist. So hard to resist that when Bo turned and marched over to me, hauling me up against his body, I said nothing. Instead, I let him cover my mouth with his own and kiss me speechless, leaving my knees weak and my mind muddled.
“I’ll be back after I see Boris to the hospital. We’ll talk then, and I swear to Christ I’ll make this right between us,” he vowed. My heart started to soften toward him at the anguish in his tone, until he started barking out orders. “‘Til then, I don’t want you on anything with four legs. And, for God’s sake, don’t climb any more trees. Head to the ranch house and stay there so you don’t get into trouble.”
If I’d been clear-headed enough, I would have told him what I thought about him bossing me around. Instead, I’d bit my lip and watched silently as he’d walked away, talked to a ranch hand, and then jumped into the Jeep and started barking out more orders as they’d pulled away and disappeared over the hill.
“He’ll be okay,” Poppy whispered beside me.
I nodded in agreement. “Natasha won’t let him die.”
“I take it from that kiss Bo just planted on you that you’ve worked out your differences?” Poppy said as a slight smile pulled across her mouth.
“I wouldn’t say that,” I mumbled. “There are obstacles that concern me.”
“Sienna, he came all the way out here for you. What’s there to think about? He’s your Wyatt slash Iain, just like I said.”
My heart began to beat wildly at the reminder of what Bo had done. She was right, the sight of him riding Goliath at full speed to find me was like something out of a romance novel. But the fact he came all the way out here to apologize for being a jerk didn’t overshadow the reason he pushed me away in the first place. I hadn’t had time to process all he said or come to any conclusions about how I felt. There’d been no time—nor had it been the right time—for me to tell Bo that his reasons for keeping me at arm’s length concerned me.
Being friends with Poppy, as well as my own turbulent adolescence, had taught me that neglect or abuse caused during childhood were some of the hardest disappointments to overcome. The idea that I would be a constant reminder of his mother if we started seeing each other was a concern. My own mother couldn’t look at me without a constant reminder of what she’d done, so I was scared to risk my heart. What if he got up one day, just like my father had, and said the similarities were too much to overcome?
A soft cry from below pulled me from my troubled thoughts. “Poppy! The poor calf,” I cried out, rushing to the edge of the ridge.
Two of the ranch hands had stayed behind to tend to the horses, so I turned to them. “Can you get her out?”
Both men looked over the edge, nodded, then got to work rescuing the poor thing.
“I still can’t believe she fell all that way and doesn’t have a scratch,” I said to Poppy.
“She probably fell farther up where the drop is only ten feet,” Poppy informed me.
I turned and looked at her, incredulous. “Are you telling me if I’d walked farther up, I could have climbed down on my own?”
Poppy beamed. “Yep.”
“Do me a favor,” I sighed. “Don’t mention that little fact to Bo.”
Snorting, Poppy twisted her thumb and forefinger in a ‘my lips are sealed’ motion.
We watched as they pulled the doe-eyed baby from the ravine, further up where it was less steep, I might add, and we smiled like loons when it raced to its mother and began to drink from one of her tits as if nothing had happened.
“Thank you,” I shouted to one of the men. “I’m Sienna, and this is Poppy.”
I put out my hand as I walked to the one Bo had spoken with, and he took it, mumbling, “Ma’am. This here is Brantley, and I’m Troy.”
Both men looked to be under thirty. They had kind eyes, broad backs, and they were covered in dirt from a hard day’s work.
“Are they sending a Jeep back for one of you?”
“No, ma’am. We were instructed to bring you back with the horses.”
Poppy turned to me with a grin. “Didn’t Bo say you weren’t allowed on anything with four legs?”
I rolled my eyes. “He can think what he wants. A kiss or two and an apology doesn’t give him the right to demand anything of me.”
I started to move toward Tiny Dancer, but Troy stayed me with his hand. “Sorry, ma’am. Detective Strawn threatened me with arrest if we let you back on a horse by yourself. You’re supposed to ride back with me.”
“What? You must be jokin’!”
Poppy barked out a laugh, and I swung around on her. “This isn’t funny.”
“Uh, yeah, it is.”
“You’re supposed to be on my side. Remember the Wallflower creed?”
“What creed?”
“Hoes before arrogant assholes,” I bit out, then moved toward Tiny Dancer. “Troy, I won’t tell Bo you let me ride alone.”
“Ma’am, I’m not about to lose this job because you’re stubborn.”
I rounded on him and put my hands on my hips. “I’m not stubborn.”
“That’s not what Detective Strawn said. He also said you’d disobey me unless I hog-tied you. I don’t want to hog-tie you, ma’am.”
“You wouldn’t!” I gasped.
Troy grinned. “There’s one way to find out.”
I looked at Poppy for backup. She’d ducked her head and was laughing. I was so getting a Wallflower divorce when we got back.
“This is ridiculous,” I bit out. “Why is he doin’ this?”
“He’s your man,” was Troy’s only response.
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re all a bunch of Neanderthals. This is the twenty-first century if you hadn’t noticed. I don’t want or need a man to tell me what to do.” Troy smiled like he thought what I was saying was cute, and I wanted to wipe the grin off his face. “What about Poppy? Does she get to ride on her own?”
Poppy sobered then and rolled her eyes, moving toward Harriet. “Of course, I do. He’s your Neanderthal, not mine.”
Brantley stepped in front of her and slowly shook his head.
Poppy tried to sidestep him, but Brantley moved with her, so she spun around and scowled at Troy. “What did he say about me?”
“He said neither of you women had the sense God gave you, that you’d find a way to ride off a cliff.”
Her eyes shot to mine, and I smiled sweetly. The shoe was on the other foot now.
“I say we stay single, Sienna. No man is worth this. We can be like Eunice and Bernice. We’ll just have a bunch of lovers and play aunties to Cali and Devin’s kids.”
Troy and Brantley shook their heads as they climbed on top of the horses. Troy had strung a rope to Boris’ horse and tied it off on Tiny Dancer’s saddle, reminding me why we were in this position in the first place.
“Let’s get back and see if we can help,” I said. “We can decide later how to bury Bo’s body so we don’t get caught.”
The return trip was slow and hot. By the time we reached the corral, my shirt was plastered to my back with sweat and I was in desperate need of water and shade. The ranch seemed quiet, eerily quiet. There were no hands baling hay. No cowboys working horses. Just the swirling sound of the windmills as they danced in the breeze; a reminder that life goes on even in the absence of man.
“Where is everyone?” I asked as Troy handed me down to the ground.
“Probably followed Boris to the hospital,” he answered, then kicked Tiny Dancer and rode her into the stable.
“We should try to help in some way. Maybe we should check to see if the cows need milkin’ again?”
I wasn’t sure how often cows were milked, but I assumed if they produced milk like women did, they’d need to be emptied several times a day.
“Cows have been milked,” Brantley murmured as he kicked Harriet and followed Troy into the stable.
I scanned the yard, looking for a way
to help, and noticed a five-gallon bucket sitting in front of an outbuilding that housed livestock. It looked to be full of food.
“Look,” I said, pointing to the bucket. “I bet someone was in the middle of feedin’ animals and never finished.”
As we approached, I heard the distinct sound of pigs.
Poppy turned toward the pen and scrunched her nose. “Should we feed them?”
I scanned the pen. The trough was situated in the middle, which meant I’d have to enter it. Thankfully, the pigs were sunning themselves, oblivious to the world as they cooked their skin, so I figured it would be easy to get in and out.
“Yeah. Get the gate, and I’ll pour this in the trough.”
Poppy unlatched the wooden gate and opened it wide for me to enter. The bucket was heavier than it looked. I struggled with it, dragging it between my legs. Halfway to the trough, the bucket caught on something, causing my feet to slip out from underneath me. With an, “Oh, fudge,” I fell to my knees, sinking into the muck and mud. Unfortunately, the racket I made when I fell caused the pigs to jump up, and they began heading for me, snorting and squealing as they came. That’s when the melee began. One minute I was on the ground, trying to stand as the wet muck squished between my fingers, and the next I was knocked to the ground as the pigs raced for the open gate.
“Close the gate,” I cried out.
Poppy managed to slam it closed before any escaped, trapping both of us inside the pen. I tried to stand to avoid the feeding frenzy, but each attempt found me on my knees again as one of the pink behemoths knocked me down like a prize fighter. Poppy joined in the fray then, tugging on my arm to help me to my feet, but she got sandwiched between two pigs and lost her own footing, face planting in the wet, muddy earth.
I scrambled to her on all fours before she was crushed, then we used the other for balance and stood, moving quickly out of the pigs’ way.
“Water,” I cried out when I got a good look at Poppy. “We need lots and lots of water.”
We were a disgusting mess. Mud was in our hair, pig droppings were squished into our shirts like fecal art, and the smell was beyond horrendous.