Mackay handed Rawson his large print Bible. “Use this. I’ll share with Liz.”
Disappointment washed over me at being cut off from Rawson. Oh, get thee behind me, Satan! I didn’t want to like anything about the cocky cowboy. He only wanted to embarrass me and upset Mackay, but my brain didn’t care. I wanted to smell his cologne one more time.
The teacher had us turn to a verse in the Old Testament. Rawson touched my arm, and I too quickly gave him my attention.
“Where’s Isaiah in this mess?” he asked irreverently.
I leaned over to flip to the right section.
“You spruced up real nice, Miss Ruthersford,” he whispered.
Goosebumps formed on my arms, making him smirk as he noticed.
I rubbed them as Mackay leaned into my other ear. I willed my body to react, but his breath tickling my skin did nothing. Dang!
“Is he bothering you?”
“He just needed help finding Isaiah.” And I needed help finding my good sense.
Rawson leaned forward and winked, making Mackay tense up like a coiled spring. I tried to ignore him. It seemed the safest option considering the state of my mind and power of his cologne.
“You’re adorable when you’re flustered, Miss Ruthersford.”
“Shush,” I practically hissed. “I don’t want to be called out again.”
“Ah, Mr. Larsen’s a softie. He never once gave me detention in high school, and I more than deserved it.”
I thought I heard Mackay’s teeth grinding as he pulled me back firmly. “Tell him to be quiet. He’s being very disruptive.”
“Sorry.”
“Are you?” The accusation in his eyes made me feel like a naughty child.
When class ended, Mackay’s eyes narrowed like a boxer as he took my hand.
“See you later, Benny.” He didn’t acknowledge Rawson as he marched me out the door.
Silence settled between us on the drive to his house. Without Rawson’s irresistible scent blocking my brain, I realized how foolish I’d behaved. Rawson didn’t like me. He just liked to tease me. I hated how I loved the smell of his cologne; it irritated me how my whole body warmed whenever he smiled. The fact that I liked his outlandish clothes that enhanced his physique and had every female at church gawking at him irked me also, because everyone was drawn to Rawson Law. I didn’t want to be another of his groupies.
As I finished eating dinner with Mackay’s family, I reached over and squeezed his hand under the table. When he turned with hope in his eyes, my gut reaction was to cast up my walls, but I couldn’t continue being so cold. Mackay deserved more from me. Rawson was wrong. Vanilla was good and solid—a staple in the ice cream world.
“We’re heading over to visit Dad before I take Liz home,” he told his mom.
“Be home by nine.”
He leaned over to peck her cheek. “I’ll try, but it’s a long drive. It might be closer to ten.”
The woman threw me a scowl, as if it was my fault I lived in the boonies.
“Thanks for dinner, Mrs. Benson.” I used my sweetest voice.
When we reached the hospital, my mood plummeted. His dad was so heavily medicated he had a hard time speaking. Mackay put on a brave face, but I could tell his dad’s deteriorating health upset him. I felt even worse about my earlier games with Rawson, and determined to cheer Mackay up when he took me home. I owed him a kiss. Maybe I owed him my heart.
By the time he pulled up to the ranch house though, doubts tied my stomach into knots. As I endured another Dippy kiss and waited for gravity to pull him upright again, I wondered what was wrong with me. As kind as Mackay was, I only liked him as a friend. A good friend. But affection between us felt wrong…like kissing a brother. Not that I had a brother, but kissing Mackay felt like what I imagined that would be like. Yuck. Maybe I was so jaded from Justin’s death that I couldn’t feel anymore.
“Thanks for dinner,” I said as he straightened. “Uh, I better go in. I have an early day tomorrow.”
“Good night, Liz.” His look of adoration stirred up insta-guilt.
Slipping inside, I closed the door and let out a weary breath.
I’d never intended for Mackay and me to get this far and couldn’t stand the thought of our relationship progressing one step further. But what were my options? Rawson Law? Heaven forbid. Certainly he had mega-models lining up to date him. And as much as he teased me about Chance and Seth, they were just friends. It seemed the devil dangled Rawson on the side of a cliff to tease me, while God hoped I’d behave and choose Mackay on sturdy ground. So why did falling off a cliff suddenly seem so enticing?
Chapter 32
Rawson
As I rounded the corner of the tack room carrying two saddles, Lizzie collided with me.
“Oh!” she gasped. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” I took in her work attire—dusty jeans, a button down flannel shirt that hid her assets, and an abominable bun that gave her ponytail a run for its money. I wanted to yank the pins out to free her curls. It seemed a criminal offense to hide them from the world and torture her cute face by pulling her cheeks and forehead back so severely. “I was looking for you.”
She frowned as my gaze lingered on her willowy form. “Are one of those mine?” She reached to take a saddle and blanket from me.
“I have it.” I swung out of reach and headed to the stalls. “Which horses are we working this morning?”
She followed behind me. “Millennial Eagle and Sidekick Shooter.”
I hissed. “I suppose you want me to work with Shooter.”
“Yeah, but stay off him.”
“Don’t worry. I learned my lesson.” I stopped, and she bumped into me. “Hey, I wanted to apologize for yesterday.”
Her cute face puckered; well, at least as much as it could pulled back by that infernal bun.
“I feel bad for embarrassing you in Sunday School.”
The way her lips twisted made me all hot and bothered, especially when she nervously licked them. I looked up at the rafters, knowing no good could come from crushing on my boss. She was too uptight and innocent…nothing like the women I was used to.
“No hard feelings?”
She shrugged. “As long as you stop harassing Mackay. You made him so angry.”
I set the saddles on a bale of hay. “He didn’t take it out on you, did he?” I’d rip his arms off if he had.
“Of course not. Mackay’s the ultimate gentleman.”
I began saddling Shooter. The last thing I wanted was to hear her gush about her tub of vanilla. “I still think you should give Chance a chance.”
She rolled her eyes before entering Eagle’s stall.
“His name demands it, and the guy thinks you walk on water.” I stifled a grin. “But we know from the lake incident that you don’t. Why you can’t even steer a kayak.”
Thankfully, she laughed instead of getting all huffy. I never knew quite which way she would swing when I teased her.
“I sink as much as the next fellow.”
“No, you’d kick and flail yourself to shore. You don’t need to walk on water with determination like yours.”
Pink blossomed in her cheeks. “Thanks…I think.”
As I followed her and Millennial Eagle into the arena, I admired her long legs. Unlike her upper body which she camouflaged in baggy shirts, her jeans fit like a glove.
I worked the idiot horse for about an hour before Liz told me to switch out for Yakama Yoda. As the two-year-old stallion nibbled at my chin, I patted him.
“Who’s the man? Yoda man.”
Lizzie let out a barking laugh as Yoda kept nosing me from behind. “You surprise me.”
I reached up to rub his neck. “Why’s that?” A rosy blush colored her cheeks, making me want to reach out and touch her instead.
“When your father put me in charge, I figured you must not know squat about horses. But the more I see you in action, I realize that’s not true.”
Her words picked at a festering scab. “Maybe I’ve just fooled you.”
“No.” She led the newest gelding past me. “You might fool me, but you can’t fool horses…and they all like you.”
“Except Shooter.”
“Shooter’s not right in the head. He doesn’t count.”
“I’m surprised to hear you say that. I thought you were the equine Mother Teresa.”
“Even Mother Teresa had to admit some days that there were crazy people in the world.”
I reached up to massage Yoda’s velvety ears. “This guy’s going to be fast.”
“He won’t be able to help it with the force behind his name.”
I grinned at her lame attempt at humor.
She mounted Moonshine and walked him around the arena. Catching up to her. I slowed Yoda’s pace so he wouldn’t bite at her mount in a display of dominance.
“I’ve been thinking it’s ridiculous for me to be your boss,” she said. “You know way more than I do.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. You have a gift I don’t. Sure, horses like me, but they like anyone with half a brain in their head and a sugar cube in their hand. You, though, are like a horse siren. When you speak, they listen.”
She snorted like she had in church the other day when I inadvertently said “Yeah” to that Trina-girl’s comment about looking hot. I hadn’t really been listening to the silly woman. Until Liz snorted, I didn’t register how arrogant I’d come across.
Her index finger shot out at me. “Don’t say a word.”
“My lips are sealed, Miss Snort-boss.”
“You’re impossible,” she huffed. “But seriously, I’m going to talk to your dad about sharing responsibilities.”
“He’ll never go for it.”
“I know you and him don’t get along, but you could prove to him that—”
“I’m not proving anything.”
“But you’re so good with—”
“Drop it.”
As she led Moonshine to his stall, I untacked Yoda. Silence felt awkward between us. She’d tried to do me a good deed, and I’d thrown it back in her face.
“Really, I’m content with how things are.”
She latched the stall. “Okay. But if you change your mind, let me know. I’m more than willing to step down and let you take charge.”
“That isn’t your call to make.” I locked up Yoda and joined her at the tack room.
She pursed her lips. “I never set out to be your boss, you know? When you returned, I feared your dad would fire me since he had you.”
“That’d be the day. Dad has never needed me.”
As she studied me, I noticed golden flecks in her brown eyes.
“I don’t believe that. You obviously clash like brass cymbals, but I can tell he loves you very much.”
“That’s girl talk.”
“Good. Because last I checked, I’m a girl.”
I allowed my gaze to drop to her chest and legs. “Oh yeah. You’re definitely all girl.”
She punched my shoulder. “Stop it.”
“What? I’m just making an observation. Chance is definitely going to ask you out one of these days…and then maybe you’ll experience that snap, crackle, and pop I keep talking about.”
Her giggle kept replaying in my head long after we parted. It was adorable, but so were bunnies, and I’d shot my fair share of them in my younger days. Maybe I needed to take Damon to town and shoot Liz out of my head. There were plenty of women in town who’d be happy to see me and help me forget my troubles. No sense being tempted by my boss…even if she was cute.
Chapter 33
Liz
Breakfast was a quiet affair. As I chewed on a bite of bacon, not really tasting it, I knew I’d reached a new low. When you don’t taste something as delicious as bacon, you might as well be dead. My mind kept hiccupping Rawson; and like real hiccups, I couldn’t make him go away no matter how many strange internal rituals I attempted.
Grabbing my glass, I downed some milk to wash that man from my thoughts. But my mind hiccupped again, recalling how easily we’d gotten along the last couple weeks, giving me high hopes for the future. We complimented each other and had made great strides in training several of the harder horses…even Shooter.
“Can you pass me the muffins, Liz?”
I mechanically transported muffins to my boss at the head of the table as my mind stewed on how to deal with his son. Rawson had shown up hours late for work the last week and had skipped out completely this weekend. I couldn’t keep covering for him. Eventually, Mr. Law would notice.
Gulping down my milk, I stood. “Thanks for breakfast, Charity.” I turned to pat Benny’s back. “See you later.”
“Count on it,” he said through a mouthful of muffin.
I slipped out the door. As I crossed the pasture, I hiccupped Rawson again. Two weeks ago, I’d wanted to make him my partner. Today I seriously considered filing a complaint about him to Bart.
Grabbing a broom, I began sweeping the aisle between stalls when my inconsistent apprentice showed up to annoy me.
“Hey,” he called from the other side of the arena, sounding out of breath, “sorry I’m late. I got here as fast as I could.”
He disappeared into the tack room as I guided Whiskers in a circle.
“Which horse do you want me to get?” he shouted.
“Taco Twister.”
When he swore, I smirked. Rawson couldn’t stand the two-year-old dun. The magnificent gelding possessed no focus…kind of like him. Maybe that’s why I derived such perverse amusement pairing them together.
I expected an argument, but Rawson marched to Taco’s stall and started tacking him up. He worked like his life depended on it, and in a way, it did.
When I heard the lunch bell, I led Whiskers out of the arena, but Rawson stopped me.
“Tie him to a post. I’ll finish with him while you eat.”
“You’re not coming?”
“Nah. I’ll work through lunch since I started a little late.”
“Three hours is more than a little.”
His Caribbean blues appraised me. “Sorry. I promise—”
“Please don’t make any more promises.” No way would I let him sweet talk his way off my bad list.
He ran a hand through his hair. “My friend needed help. I couldn’t leave him alone. Let me make it up to you. How about we take Shooter and Taco out for a picnic.”
“I’m already behind.”
“Those two need time in the saddle. It’ll be a working lunch, except more pleasurable.”
“What would be more pleasurable is if you’d get your sorry butt to work in the mornings instead of—”
“I know. I’m really sorry, boss.”
I hated when he tossed that word around. His startling blue-green eyes crinkled at the corners, working their magic on me.
“Okay, I’ll give you one last chance to redeem yourself. You better pack a mean lunch. I’ll saddle the horses.”
He saluted as I brushed past him. “You won’t know what hit you, darling.”
“Wash that taunting grin off your face.” I didn’t look back as he laughed because I feared a smile might escape. Why did he have to be so dang funny?
By the time I had the horses saddled, Rawson returned with a backpack loaded with food. He mounted Taco Twister and leaned down to say something in his ear. It was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. As I climbed onto Sidekick, Rawson winked at me.
“Stop staring.” I urged Shooter into a trot and headed for the foothills.
“Why? The view’s nice.”
“You’re such a liar.”
He caught up to me and grabbed my reins. “Hold up. Why do you always accuse me of lying when I’m only telling the !@#$*!”
I covered my ears as he used the Lord’s name in vain. “Please don’t use His name that way.”
“What?”
“I hate how dirty I feel every time you open your mouth, espec
ially when you use God’s name as if it was worth less than an inflated Mexican peso.”
“Fine. Let’s make a deal. I won’t swear around you if you stop thinking you’re plain and deficient around me.”
“I don’t think I’m deficient. And who uses words like that anyway?”
He chuckled. “I have to put my college education to use. And you do think that. You gave me a whole list of deficiencies on the drive to Bozeman that one time, and just now you accused me of lying when I said you looked nice.”
I squirmed in my saddle. “Give me my reins.”
“Not until you make the deal.” He switched them to his left hand and stuck out his right. “Shake on it.”
I rolled my eyes, but gave him my hand. A pleasant, sizzling sensation rattled me as we made contact. The horses bit at each other as Rawson squeezed my fingers, shooting fiery pulses up my arms.
“Tell me three traits you love about yourself—a love triangle.”
“Why?”
“We made a deal. The Love Triangle game is how I’ll know you’re keeping your end of it. You can hear whether I’m keeping mine, but I won’t know if you’re listing deficiencies in your head. So tell me three things you love about yourself. You have ten seconds. If you can’t do it, I’ll pull out the big guns and let you hear the names I call the cattle.”
“That’s stupid.” I pulled my hand from his to regain equilibrium.
“Ten…nine…eight…”
“All right. Shush. I can’t concentrate if you’re counting.”
He held out his hand and dropped a silent finger for each number. As he lowered the second to last one, I pushed his hand down.
“I like my hands.”
“Your hands?” He grabbed mine again. “Me too. They’re graceful and soft…very soft.”
I yanked out of his grip. “They’re calloused and scratched up more than a cat tower.”
“Damn it, Lizzie. You’re not supposed to tell me deficiencies.”
I puckered my lips. “Okay. I like my hands because they’re calloused and scabbed. Are you satisfied?”
He grinned. “That’s one. Give me two more.”
Between Hope & the Highway Page 14