I shivered. Well, at least I know some of my feelings weren’t beyond repair.
Dustin stirred. Then he lifted his arm off his eyes, blinked a few times and sat up. “Hey.”
“Hey.” I folded my arms just to give my hands something to do and to make up for my lack of a bra. “I’m, um, sorry about last night.”
“Don’t be sorry.” He rose slowly, like I was a jumpy horse he didn’t want to spook. “And the horses are already fed, so don’t worry about them.”
“Thank you,” I said.
He tapped his fingers on the sofa’s armrest. “So, last night. What happened?”
I lowered my gaze. “I…guess I just had a bit of a breakdown.”
Right. Talk about an understatement. My head hurt too much to even imagine the barrage of questions he probably had waiting for me. Ugh, just thinking about coming up with answers and explanations made me queasy.
But the only question he asked was, “Do you want some coffee?”
“Please,” I said.
He got up, pausing to stretch a crick out of his back, then went into the kitchen. I followed, alternately stealing glimpses of his beautiful physique and trying not to look him in the eye because he’d seen everything last night. And because he might have…
Now wait. Dustin hadn’t been my favorite person, in the beginning, but even then he’d never struck me as sleazy or anything. Not the kind of guy who’d take advantage of a woman who was half insane or drunk.
But still, I’d been in his bed, and I was in his clothes.
No one spoke as Dustin poured us both some coffee. We drank in silence, and just the smell and taste of the black coffee were enough to settle my stomach and soothe some of the aching in my temples.
“I’m…” I looked around the kitchen. “Why am I here? I mean, instead of…” I nodded toward the wall that divided my place from his.
Dustin shifted his weight, a hint of color blooming in his cheeks. “You locked yourself out.”
A chill ran through me. Christ, what if he hadn’t come out and dragged me back in? I would have locked my idiot ass outside. Drunk, crying, locked out in the rain in the middle of the night, or crawling up to the other house and begging for a key. Way to look sane and put-together, there, Dover.
“And to be honest,” he went on, “I was…um… I was worried. I didn’t want you to…” He looked me in the eye for a second, then dropped his gaze. “I didn’t want to leave you alone until I was sure you were all right.”
I cringed, wondering just how much of a mess I’d really been last night. Bringing my coffee cup up to my lips, I whispered, “Thank you.” I held the cup tighter, searching it for warmth as last night’s chill crept back in. Then I lowered it and made myself look at him. “Okay, I’m sorry, I just have to ask. Last night…did we…?”
“Did we, what?” Dustin furrowed his brow. Then he jumped like he’d just made the connection. “Did we sleep together?”
My cheeks burned, and I nodded. “I… look, I don’t remember anything after we got to the porch, and…”
“Of course we didn’t,” he said, almost whispering. “Amy, you were drunk and obviously upset. I would never have touched you in a state like that.”
My face burned even hotter. “I didn’t think you would. I just woke up in your bed, and in your clothes, and I…” I waved a hand. “God, I’m so sorry.”
“No, it’s okay,” he said softly, and paused to sip his coffee. As he set the cup aside with a quiet tap on the counter, he said, “You were soaked and freezing cold. You took a shower, and I gave you some clothes. While I was showering and warming up myself, you fell asleep.” He gave a slight shrug. “I figured it would be better to let you sleep.”
“I appreciate it,” I said. “I really do. I’m sorry. I honestly didn’t think you would have—”
“Amy.” When I stopped, he smiled and said, “Don’t worry about it. You woke up in my bed and couldn’t remember how you got there. I’d be asking questions too.”
“Maybe, but still. I wasn’t trying to accuse you of anything.”
He smiled again as he picked up his coffee. “Don’t worry about it.”
I took another sip of coffee. “I, um, I guess I owe you an explanation.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” he said.
“But after—”
“Amy,” he said softly, “if something drove you to break down like that, I’d only be making it worse by asking you to rehash it for my benefit. If you’re not ready, then…” He trailed off, shaking his head.
I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell him everything so he didn’t think I was completely insane. And, damn it, I needed to say it to someone. Anyone. But especially him because he’d been the one to see me lose it last night.
Before I could say anything, Dustin said, “Take today off.” He pushed a few strands of hair out of my face and tucked them tenderly behind my ear, his fingertips brushing my face as he did. “Dad and I can manage, but I think you need to catch your breath.”
Pride wanted me to insist I was fine, that I needed to get out and work so I didn’t feel completely limp and useless, but it took all I had just to keep this coffee cup from falling out of my hands. So I just avoided his eyes and nodded. “Thank you.”
“Whatever it is you’ve been through,” he said, “I’m sorry.” To my surprise, he stepped closer and hugged me. I closed my eyes as emotions threatened to overwhelm me, especially as he added, “I am so sorry, Amy.”
He let me go, and then he left. As the door shut behind him, I exhaled.
Dustin didn’t even know what had happened or what had driven me to my knees in the rain, but he’d been so sweet. My face tingled with the ghost of his fingertips, and I realized then that no man had ever touched me that way. Even in his sweetest moments, Sam had never touched me so gently.
My throat ached. My chest ached. My head still hurt.
And emotionally? I felt like I’d just ripped open every scarred-over wound I’d ever had, and the pain that flowed through my veins bordered on unbearable. This was the most pain I’d felt in recent memory. In years.
But I closed my eyes and let it wash over me because, pain or not, I was relieved to finally feel something.
Chapter Twelve
Dustin
In a complete daze, I went through the motions of my daily tasks.
I hadn’t slept much last night. From the moment Amy’s door had slammed, I’d been wide awake. When she’d screamed, I’d been on my feet and out the door, my mind racing with a million thoughts of what might be happening. Bad news over the phone? A burglar? Something?
The one thing I hadn’t expected was to find her on her knees on the gravel, sobbing in the rain and screaming her late husband’s name into the night. She’d seemed so together and unemotional, stoic after her recent loss, and for a moment, I’d stopped and just stared, not breathing, not moving, trying to make sense of this rock-solid woman cleaving apart and falling to pieces like that. I’d have had an easier time believing my eyes if I’d seen someone effortlessly riding Blue through the storm.
I didn’t even bother grabbing shoes or a shirt, just hurried down the stairs and across the mud and gravel.
When I put my arm around her, I didn’t even think she knew I was there. Not at first, anyway. She’d collapsed against me, and the alcohol stung my eyes even through the heavy rain. Her hands were pressed tightly over her ears like she was trying to block out some sound that had driven her to this in the first place.
“Sam,” she’d cried out between sobs. “Sam, I’m so sorry…”
I shivered at the memory. And more than that, I shivered at the memory of what I’d thought of her when she’d first come to the ranch. Now that I’d seen her break open like this, and knowing more about her than she realized, I couldn’t figure out how I’d ever thought she was just cold and indifferent. I felt more than a little guilty for ever making that assumption.
I knew what it was like to
be hurt. It was only the last year or two the stubborn tan line on my left ring finger had finally faded away completely, mostly because it had taken me almost two years to make myself take off my damned wedding band. But I couldn’t imagine the amount of pain Amy would have had to bottle up for God knew how long to bring about a breakdown like the one she’d had last night. And how much more was there where that came from?
I knew from reading her website that the loss of her husband had been sudden and unexpected, but there had to be more to the story. What had driven her into a bottle and then out into the rain last night? What had driven her here in the first place?
Jesus, Amy. What in the world happened?
Though my mind was a million miles away, I saddled Ransom and took him into the covered arena to work. As I put him through his paces, though, I couldn’t concentrate. The whole time, Amy’s emotional breakdown lingered in the back of my mind like last night’s storm lingered in the form of a muggy gray drizzle outside.
What happened to you, Amy?
My chest ached just thinking about what happened last night. Whatever emotions she’d been trying to contain had torn open all at once, and the pain had been palpable even before I’d stepped off the porch.
It was more than just grief. I was sure of it. Something about the way she fell apart, the way she seemed to collapse under the weight of more than just an untimely death, made me think whatever it was that had ripped her apart last night started well before her husband died. Especially in light of the bruise that she’d tried unsuccessfully to cover when she first came here.
Someone had hurt her, and I had a strong suspicion it was that slick-haired guy who’d beamed in the pictures on their farm’s website under the announcement he’d recently died.
I couldn’t for the life of me imagine why anyone would hurt another human being, just like I couldn’t imagine why anyone had hurt Blue or Chip or Star. It didn’t make—
Ransom jerked underneath me, shying to the side and damn near unloading my ass because I wasn’t paying attention. As I righted myself in the saddle, heart pounding from the near fall, I swore quietly at the bird that’d kicked up some dust in the corner of the arena. The bird, and my own inability to concentrate on things like not breaking my neck.
Focus on the horse. Talk to Amy later. Focus.
Amy came down at a little past noon with her damp hair pulled back into her dusty baseball cap. We glanced at each other, but that look didn’t last long, and neither of us said anything.
As we went about our various tasks—Amy turning horses out and bringing them in while I worked the horses on my schedule—it occurred to me I’d never realized just how much we crossed paths while we worked. It made sense, I supposed, I just hadn’t given it any thought because I hadn’t had any reason to be so hyperaware of where she was, what she was doing, what she wasn’t doing, what we weren’t saying.
She didn’t owe me any explanation, but I was worried about her, and damn my inability to even say, are you okay? without choking on my own breath. It didn’t help that the persistent drizzle gave us both excuses to keep our hats on. We both wore them all day long anyway, but today a black brim and a blue bill created convenient barriers for preventing any connection between tired, uncertain eyes. Though I usually hated working in my office unless I absolutely had to, I ducked in there around two thirty to tally up some receipts and finish up some paperwork I’d been putting off.
I was way too fucking tired to even try to deal with numbers and paperwork, but it needed to be done. Even if it took me twice as long because just keeping my eyes open was a struggle. Better to make a mistake on paper than on a horse, though. I’d just go over it when I was well rested and remembered how to concentrate, and any problems could be fixed with an eraser. Numbers couldn’t take advantage of my lack of focus to indulge in or start a bad habit, and numbers wouldn’t be shaken or upset if I startled myself out of a daydream and subsequently startled them.
About the time I couldn’t focus on the print on the endless stack of receipts and invoices, I glanced at my watch. It was close to dinnertime, so as good a time as any to give it a rest for the day. I slid the receipts into a folder and pushed myself up from the desk.
As I locked the office door behind me, Amy stepped out of the feed room across the aisle. The door squeaked on its hinges, and the latch clicked as she secured it.
Doors closed and tasks handled, there we were, a few feet of packed-dirt floor between us as we looked at each other like neither of us had a clue what to say. Or if there was anything to say after last night, or this morning, or…
I sure as hell didn’t know what we were supposed to do next.
Amy wrung her hands and focused on the aisle between us. “Listen, after last night, I think I owe you an explanation.” Pausing, she lifted her gaze enough to just meet my eyes. “And maybe a drink. If you…want to go somewhere…”
“I told you, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. Especially if you’re not ready—”
“And if I am ready?”
I swallowed. I swore her eyes begged me to agree to this. Like she’d put a crack in the dam last night and needed to let the pressure off before things got any worse.
“Yeah,” I said. “We can do that.”
Amy smiled, and I was sure the breath she released was a relieved one. “I can drive. We’ll burn my gas.”
I laughed softly, and then shrugged. “Sure, why not?”
Chapter Thirteen
Amy
The ranch’s dirt driveway was muddy instead of dusty, thanks to last night’s rain, and every time my tires splashed through a puddle, I cringed a little. The longer I’d thought about last night, the more embarrassed I was that Dustin had seen me like that. That I’d been like that at all, never mind where someone could see me.
And now we were in the confines of my truck with forty-five minutes each way and a potentially uncomfortable meal ahead of us. This was going to be fun. Still, it was better to clear the air while the ground was still wet than wait until we’d avoided each other for days on end and things were at awkwardness critical mass.
I cleared my throat. “So, about last night…”
The leather seat creaked softly as Dustin shifted. “You really don’t have to explain yourself.”
“I need to.” I glanced at him. “If you’re okay with hearing it.”
“Sure.” He turned toward me. “I just don’t want you thinking you have to. On my account.”
“I appreciate that.” My throat was still raw, my voice scratchy, but I spoke anyway. “Sam was my husband. My…”
“Late husband?”
My head snapped toward him. “Yeah. I…” Turning my attention back to the road, I said, “Did I tell you that part last night?”
“No, uh…” He fidgeted in the passenger seat. “Not long after you came to the ranch, when you’d said you had more experience with horses, I was curious. So I looked you up.”
“Oh.”
“That sounds incredibly creepy now that I’m saying it,” he said. “I swear, I was just—”
“It’s okay. Really.” I managed a quiet laugh. “I wondered why you suddenly had more faith in my abilities.”
He laughed too. “Sorry I doubted you.”
Humor fading, I said, “So you know Sam was killed recently.”
Dustin nodded. “A motorcycle accident, right?”
“Yeah.” I fidgeted to cover up a shiver.
“Ma’am, there’s been an accident…”
“So, Sam.” I slid both hands around to the top of the steering wheel and focused on the wet road in front of me. “Long story short, we were married for eleven years. Eleven long, miserable years.”
“Oh, wow,” he said.
“Yeah.” I paused, releasing the wheel long enough to run a hand through my hair. “And Sam and I both contributed to that, don’t get me wrong. But…” Only the need to watch the muddy road kept me from closing my eyes as I sighed. “We
ll, let’s put it this way. Sam was a great businessman. Very methodical, knew business like I know horses. When he and I met, my sister and I had a small training business going. Part-time thing, but we had a few clients, made a little money. Within three years, Sam had turned that business into a full-time job for everyone involved. Two years after that, we’d brought in two assistant trainers and were still turning away clients.”
“Sounds like a pretty successful operation.”
“Oh, it was. Big-time. We were competing at levels I hadn’t even dreamed about. The last two years, Sam made it his mission to get me onto the US Equestrian Team for the next Olympics. Anything I’d ever imagined when I was younger, this blew it out of the water.” I paused, sighing. “And I. Was. Miserable.”
“In your marriage?”
“In general.” I glanced at Dustin. It was so surreal to me, looking at someone who had so much concern in his beautiful eyes, while I talked about this. “My job, my marriage, just…my life. It got to the point I couldn’t find a reason to be happy in anything.”
“Depression?”
“Major. My mom and sister encouraged me to go to a therapist, so I did, but I think I found the worst therapist on God’s green earth for me.” I rolled my eyes. “Apparently, I’m as adept at selecting therapists as I am at selecting a husband.”
“So I’m guessing therapy just made things worse.” His tone was soft. Gentle. The verbal equivalent of the arm he’d put around me last night when I’d desperately needed it.
“Pretty much. She didn’t have a lot of sympathy for someone coming in and saying ‘I’m married to a faithful, devoted man, we’re rolling in money, and I have the career I’ve always dreamed about, but I’m unhappy for some reason.’”
Dustin sniffed. “Christ. Because money and careers solve everything.”
“Right?” I scowled. “Apparently I needed to appreciate the things my husband was doing for me. The thing is, I did. I was beyond grateful for everything he’d done. But it didn’t negate all the other things he’d done.”
“Such as?”
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