Turn and Burn

by Lorelei James

  He could call her back and apologize. Tell her he knew they needed to talk. That at least wouldn’t leave this void hanging between them.

  Fletch reached for the phone only to have it ring. Jet Eriksen’s name popped up on the screen. He let it ring again before he answered. “Hey, Jet. What’s up?”

  “You don’t want to know. I’ve got a remote emergency call and I won’t be done in time for our dinner tonight.”

  “So you’re calling off the meet?” He had the hope that the dinner would be cancelled yet again and he could track down Tanna immediately after his last call.

  “No. Tasha is still going. Artie will probably be missing too; his assistant said he ran into complications at his last call. I still think it’d be good for you and Tasha to talk. If either Artie or I finish early, we’ll show up. Either way, I’ll keep in touch.”

  “Good enough. Thanks for letting me know.” After Fletch disconnected, he called his answering service and retrieved the message. A quick stop, the client promised. But Fletch knew if the client was calling late on a Saturday afternoon it wouldn’t be routine.

  He glanced at the clock and sighed. He had a lot to do in the next three hours before he met up with his potential business partner.

  The only way he could get through this day would be to do the one thing he’d asked Tanna not to do to him: compartmentalize. Put the lid on his anger, shove the box to the back of his mind and do his job.

  But he would deal with Tanna first thing tomorrow.

  Tanna didn’t spend a ton of time fussing with her appearance. She showered, let her hair fall loose, slipped on a denim dress, her championship buckle and her angel wing cowgirl boots.

  She’d be freaking out about the blowup with Fletch if she wasn’t already obsessing over this meeting. She’d have to tell the Gradskys the truth. Telling a little white lie that everything had been fine in those months she was out of the spotlight and before moving to Wyoming was doing a disservice to all she’d learned and overcome in the past three months.

  The Cattleman’s Club parking lot was jammed on a Saturday night. Inside the busy restaurant, the hostess led her to a table in the back. Chuck started to get up when he saw her, but she waved him down. “Please sit. I’m happy to see Southern gentleman manners in a Northerner.”

  “Spoken like a true Texan.”

  “Guilty.”

  “Sutton called. Something came up and he won’t be joining us.”

  They made polite conversation for a few minutes until the waitress delivered their drinks. Toast done, they focused on the menu in silence.

  Tanna had such a bout of nerves, and was still reeling over the conversation with Fletch, that she needed something to calm her down. A shot of tequila ought to do the trick. She excused herself and cut to the bar.

  As she waited for the bartender, Tanna looked around the restaurant and froze when she noticed Fletch at another table. He wore that beautiful smile and was wholly engaged with his dinner companion—a female companion.

  What the fuck? What happened to his claim that he’d be out answering calls until the wee hours? Why had he lied to her? Why had he picked a goddamned fight with her and let her stew? As an excuse to have dinner with someone else? And what were the odds they’d end up in the same restaurant? Pretty good considering Rawlins had about four places to eat that didn’t have a drive-through.

  Her emotions teetered between fury and betrayal as she watched Fletch with the blonde, their heads bent close in serious conversation. The location of the booth, and their position in it, indicated they’d chosen it for privacy. Plus, Fletch wore the cowboy hat that kept his face in shadow—and it was highly doubtful he’d worn it because he was worried about getting interrupted for veterinary advice during his intimate dinner. When the woman grinned, and squeezed Fletch’s hand, Tanna had to look away.

  Skulking in the shadows made her feel ridiculous, childish and like a stalker. She oughta march up to the table and demand to know what was going on. The balls to the wall, take no shit Tanna would be dragging that woman out of the restaurant by the hair, and beating the tar out of her in the parking lot.

  Yeah, that’d make a great impression on the Gradskys. Sneaking off to do a shot of tequila and then starting a hair-pulling fight in a restaurant with a woman she didn’t know. As much as her heart ached and her blood boiled, she had to forget about Fletch and focus on why she was here.

  Tanna left the bar without ordering the shot and returned to Chuck and Berlin. “Sorry. Saw someone I knew. Now, before you guys offer me anything, there are a few things you oughta know about me, and what’s happened in my life the last two and a half years.”

  Chuck and Berlin listened attentively. At one point Berlin reached out and put her hand over Tanna’s. By the time she finished the story, the waitress had given up on taking their order.

  Silence lingered, not a particularly comfortable silence.

  When Berlin said, “I’m just going to see where our waitress ran off to,” and Chuck followed her, Tanna had a sinking feeling. She’d probably been too honest. Sutton should’ve been here to kick her under the table.

  Excruciating minutes passed until Chuck and Berlin returned. A waitress appeared and Tanna rattled off food without really knowing what she’d ordered.

  Berlin leaned forward. “Your honesty is appreciated. So you deserve ours also. We’ve had half a dozen riders on Madera in the last two months and she’s never performed the way she did with you. Which is why we still think you’re a perfect match and could win another national championship on our horse.”

  “I sense a but.”

  “But we’re sensing some ambivalence on your part on whether you’re still interested in competing in the sport at the level you used to.”

  “Maybe you’re sensing my fear that I won’t ever get to that level again, regardless of what horse I’m on.”

  “Tanna, we watched you today. Quite frankly, we don’t give a shit about plying you with false flattery. We’re all about the performance. And that’s one thing you can do: perform. Just imagine the difference even two months of training on Madera will make.” Chuck’s eyes twinkled. “You might shave your time down to twelve seconds at next year’s CRA.”

  Tanna snorted. “That’d be the day. Although, during a practice run in Galveston one year, the electronic eye timed me and Jezebel at eleven point nine eight. I assumed the machine hosed up.”

  They laughed.

  “So, here’s what we’re proposing.” Chuck laid it all out and Tanna was stunned by their generosity. For the first time, in a very long time, and since she’d ridden Madera, she felt like she wasn’t washed-up. These people believed in her, which went a long way to her believing in herself. Sutton had been right about this too—riding a horse like Madera gave her a glimpse of the champion she used to be. The champion she could be again.

  “Can you be there next week?” Berlin asked. “We’d really like to do a test run at a small rodeo in Lodestone in three weeks.”

  Lodestone might be a small rodeo, but it was an important one—with a big purse and lots of points to be won, since Labor Day weekend signaled the beginning of the end for cowboys and cowgirls to qualify for the world finals. The best of the best in rodeo attended Lodestone. It’d be the perfect time to start the buzz that Tanna Barker would be back in action the first of the year with a new horse.

  Then her hopes sunk a little. She’d assured Harper and the Split Rock crew that she’d be around the entire summer and three weeks remained. Lainie and Celia had both stuck their necks out to secure her the job. Quitting would be a shitty way to repay them.

  “Tanna?”

  She looked up. “Sorry. Look. This is a lot to process. Obviously I’m very interested. But I’d like a day or two to think it over, see if I come up with any other questions or concerns.”

  Chuck nodded. “Fair enough.”

  Talk turned to mutual acquaintances, rodeo gossip and always—who was riding the top of th
e leader boards in rodeo events. They ended up closing the place down.

  After parting ways, Tanna opted not to drive back to Muddy Gap. She scored the last room at the motel across from the bar. By some weird coincidence or fate—or maybe the universe was testing her—she ended up in the same room she’d shared with Fletch on her first night in Wyoming.

  That seemed like a long time ago. She never would’ve guessed he was the one.

  As she stretched out in the middle of the king bed, images from that night kept flashing through her mind. Yeah, the sex had been rockin’, but there was so much more between them now. Though neither of them had bucked up and said the “L” word yet, there was love there. The type of forever love that didn’t just vanish after one stupid fight.

  Once they both cooled down, they could discuss where they went from here.

  Because she might be leaving the Split Rock, but she wasn’t leaving him.

  Early Sunday morning, after it’d sunk in how much of a dick he’d been to Tanna Saturday afternoon, Fletch drove up to the Split Rock. Her truck wasn’t parked in front of her trailer.

  A feeling of panic set in. Had she already left? He beat on the door harder than necessary. Hearing no response, he walked in, calling out, “Tanna?”

  No answer.

  Her bed hadn’t been slept in. Her coffeepot was unused. Her laptop sat on the coffee table. He slumped against the wall, relieved that she hadn’t just snuck out in the middle of the night, without saying good-bye, which was no less than he deserved after the way he’d acted in the last week.

  Fletch had made up excuses not to see her after she’d told him about the horse owners being so anxious to meet with her that they were driving to Wyoming as soon as possible. Was it a petty, assholish way to react? Yep. He’d justified his actions—if he spent time with Tanna he’d most likely come off as pissy, not supportive, and she deserved support at this crucial junction in her career. No matter how much he wanted her to succeed, he feared her doing so would mean the end of them.

  Fletch didn’t want them to end. Ever. He should’ve just told her how he felt rather than being such a chickenshit. He had lied to her; he’d never been in love before he met her. He’d never told a woman he loved her and he had no idea how to do it. Blurting it out during sex seemed . . . disingenuous somehow.

  And not telling her that you love her was somehow . . . better?

  At least his entire day hadn’t been a wash, fraught with frustration. Last night Fletch had spent a long time talking to Tasha. She suffered burnout from running a solo practice too. She swore she’d take less money—if that were possible—if it’d give her more time with her husband and the baby she carried.

  As they’d walked out of the restaurant Arnie and Jet had called, asking them to meet at the diner. They hashed out an informal agreement and the wheels were in motion to combine four practices into one. They’d agreed to share the news with their employees and meet again at the potential business site at the end of the week.

  He’d been so excited about this big change in his life, he’d found himself dialing Tanna to share the good news—but had hung up when he realized it was two in the morning. Oh, and she was pissed as hell at him.

  So where was she?

  As he scrolled through his contact list to call her, his phone rang. Unknown number. He answered it absentmindedly, “This is Dr. Fletcher.”

  “Fletch? It’s Bran. I’m callin’ from Les’s phone. Holy shit, man, I’ve got a big fucking problem with my cattle. Several of them have died and I don’t know what the hell is goin’ on. Never seen this before. Any chance you can swing by? Like immediately?”

  It was the first time he’d ever heard Bran panicked. “I’m on my way.”

  Chapter Thirty-five

  On the way back to the Split Rock late Sunday morning, Tanna turned on the road leading to Celia and Kyle’s.

  A sleepy-eyed Celia answered the door. “Tanna? Whoa. Look at you all fancied up in a dress.” She smirked. “Am I witnessing the walk of shame? Or did you actually get up and go to church?”

  “Neither. Long story.”

  “Come on in. I got nothin’ but time to hear it.”

  The dog promptly flopped in the middle of the floor and Tanna almost tripped over him.

  “Sorry. Patches always has to stay between me and the door. Some protective thing.”

  “How’s mama today?”

  “Anxious to hold the little bugger in my arms rather than inside me. This last month is gonna drag ass, I just know it.” Celia pointed to the living room and sat on the couch, taking up most of the space, leaving Tanna with the corner. “I can’t sit in the recliner anymore because I can’t get out of it.”

  “You are looking . . . rounder. But you do have that happy glow about you, so I feel entitled to hate you a little.”

  “And you’ve got that little line between your eyebrows that tells me you’re upset, or annoyed, or pissed off, or all three.”

  Tanna laughed. “Can’t pull one over on you.”

  “So, what’s up?”

  “Short version? I’ve been offered a chance to get back into training and possibly competing.”

  “What? When did this happen? That is so great!” Celia pushed her feet against the outside of Tanna’s thigh. “Now tell me the long version.”

  So she did.

  When she finished, Celia was uncharacteristically serious. “I’m not surprised someone wants to showcase your skill on their horse, but I am thrilled for you, T.”

  “Thanks. I really clicked with Madera. Even quicker than I did with Jezebel. It’ll sound corny, but it’s like we were waiting for each other.”

  “Not corny at all. So, what are you gonna do?”

  “I’ve got two options. Ask Chuck and Berlin if they’ll board Madera at Eli’s until I’ve fulfilled my commitment to the Split Rock. Which I don’t see happening. Or I can ask for two days off in a row, request the third day to work at the lounge. That’d give me two full days of training plus part of another the next three weeks.”

  “How far is their ranch?”

  “Four and a half hours. A hop, skip and a jump for an old road dog like me. And I heard from Garrett this morning. It’s official he’s settling in Colorado too.”

  “Doing what?”

  “He wouldn’t tell me anything except security. So it could be anything from bein’ a mall cop to working in an off-the-books secret military-type company, to bein’ a school crossing guard.”

  “That’ll be good for you, having him close by again.”

  “We’ve had several long talks and some things are clearer to me, as far as what happened with my dad before and after Mom died.”

  “You gonna try and mend fences with him?”

  “Nope. The ball is firmly in my dad’s court. But I’m gonna stop blaming him for the suddenness of the decision to sell the ranch when I was the one who missed the signs.”

  Celia frowned. “I’m confused.”

  Tanna patted her friend’s swollen ankle. “Forget it. I’m not confused and that’s a good thing. Where’s Kyle?”

  “At Bran’s. He had a bunch of cattle get out and they ate . . . well, they’re not sure what they ate. But five have died, and some calves are sick and some aren’t. Fletch has his hands full so Kyle went to help. I don’t expect I’ll see him until later tonight.” Her eyes narrowed on Tanna. “Didn’t Fletch tell you where he was goin’?”

  “I haven’t seen Fletch since Tuesday.” Lest Celia got it in her head to pry, she added hastily, “But I’ve been at Eli’s training when I haven’t been working, so we’re hit-and-miss.” She stood. “I did have another reason for coming by. I’m taking my horse trailer. It’s a mess. I’ve decided today is the day it gets cleaned out.”

  “You don’t have to move it to clean it out. Do it here.”

  “No way. You’ll volunteer to help and I’ll say no, and you’ll do it anyway, and your husband would get upset and have my hide.” She shi
vered. “Kyle is one scary dude when he’s upset.”

  “When have you seen him upset?”

  “At the hospital after your little bulldoggin’ mishap.”

  Celia grinned. “We probably wouldn’t have gotten married if not for those stitches.”

  “Wrong.” Tanna kissed her forehead. “You and Kyle were destined to be together.” She placed her hand over the hard mound of Celia’s belly. “I love this little bugger already, so take care of yourself and baby G, mama. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  Harper showed up at Wild West Clothiers early Monday morning.

  Tanna had finished a new jewelry display. The pieces of twine draped between a small rack wrapped with raffia was supposed to look like straw . . . but it hadn’t turned out as well as Tanna had hoped.

  Harper paused in front of it. Looked it up and down and said, “Nope.”

  Shit.

  “Grab something to drink. We need to talk.” Then Harper turned over the BE BACK IN THIRTY MINUTES! sign and headed into the back room.

  She and Harper had a friendly working relationship, but they weren’t friends. And they’d spent very little actual time together, so this felt like she was in trouble with her boss.

  Tanna snagged a bottle of water and followed her.

  Harper had settled at the folding table, papers spread out in front of her. “It’s come to my attention that you’ll be requesting a permanent switch in the schedule. Since we don’t play favorites with Tierney’s