Love Me Love Me Knot

by Deb Lee

  “Nowhere else I’d rather be.” She tucked her hand in his and for the first time in God knew how long, felt at ease.

  Her mind cleared, allowing her a thought she hadn’t considered in four years: perhaps her café was not a lifeline for the girls, but a crutch holding them back. Holding her back—she squeezed Ryan’s hand—from what she really wanted.

  Chapter 28

  Ryan held the barn door open for Sophie. It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, but everything inside was just how he remembered. Dust particles hovered in the air and the smell of manure and straw burned his nose.

  There were eight stalls in all. Four on each side. The first one to the right housed the tack and the feed. The left side held his past. He turned purposefully to the right and peeked into the stall. Sure enough, as if time hadn’t touched a thing, the halter and lead line for all the horses hung neatly against the wall next to the bridles. Four saddles sat atop saddle racks along back wall and years of blue, red, yellow, and white award ribbons adorned the far wall.

  Sophie tucked her hands behind her back as if she were afraid to break something and slowly strolled down the center of the barn taking it all in. She barely made it to the first set of stalls before she stopped, homing in on that stall dedicated to his past.

  Ryan stood at the threshold, not ready to cross that line. He watched her carefully circle around his delicate scope covered by a bulky canvas drape. Just how he’d left it.

  She inched closer and carefully placed her hand on top. Dust specks erupted into the air and the sunrays made them sparkle like tiny diamonds.

  “What’s this?” she asked in an almost whisper.

  “Regret.”

  “So, this is it. This is your telescope?”

  He came up behind her and laid his hands over her arms. At his touch, her shiver pricked against his hands, and Ryan couldn’t help but smile. “You want to see what’s behind door number one?”

  Her eyes widened if only slightly. “Only if you want to show me.”

  The tease in her voice quickened his already racing heart and he forced a dry swallow. Okay then. Here goes nothing. He slowly reached around her and removed the cloth from the full-sized, black, pristine, reflector telescope. Untouched by human hands for over a decade, it still maintained its wonder and mystery.

  Sophie gasped in awe. “Ryan, it’s beautiful.”

  “Thank you.”

  She spread her arms wide, gesturing around the room. “All this is yours? From your home?”

  “Just a few items I didn’t want Dad to sell before he moved to Paris. Tia’s home is . . . well . . .” He found he couldn’t say the words. Couldn’t speak them. Tia’s home is my home. So he shrugged again. “I rather my things stay here for now.” And since I travel so much, I didn’t dare leave these stashed in my spare bedroom. I only keep a few personal effects, as well as a few things my mom loved, here.”

  “In a barn rather than your home?”

  Yeah, Ryan understood the paradox. “Tia’s home is safer and well loved.”

  She quietly took in the rest of the items in the stall. A stack of Astrology Times magazines, a signed football jersey displayed in a glass case, a box of vintage toys. A dusty Pound Puppy hung over the box. Sophie picked him up and held him to her chest. “Yours?”

  Ryan took the stuffed toy and shook it. Its droopy ears waggled. “I forgot about him. I begged my parents for a real one. I must’ve played with this guy until his stuffing nearly disintegrated. I did eventually get that real dog.”

  “I didn’t know you had a dog.”

  A cold sweat percolated on his neck. “Yeah, his name was Jasper. My dad dumped him with a neighbor before he moved.”

  “Oh.” Sophie’s voice carried a sympathetic tone. One Ryan didn’t want. She pet the Pound Puppy as if it were his real dog. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Yeah. It sucked. Anyway . . .” Ryan carefully set the toy back in the box.

  Sophie’s eyes settled on something, making the corners of her lips tug upward. “Is this your mom?”

  A framed picture of his mother and him from his eighth-grade graduation rested against an antique gold-plated mirror. He could see her reflection. Soft, pink cheeks, almond-shaped green eyes, gazing intently at the camera, and a look of longing that he couldn’t quite place. “Yeah,” he said.

  Sophie smiled. “You were close to her.”

  Ryan pursed his lips and nodded. His throat tightened.

  Sophie took a hand from his face and caressed it. “It’s okay.” She brought him the few short strides where several bales of hay stacked neatly against the side of the stall. She sat down and pulled him next to her. “What was she like?”

  “Ha.” Ryan’s chest burned with memories. “Mom was something else. Whereas Dad worked for the astronomy institute, and had always hoped I would pursue, Mom loved my passion for sports.”

  “She sounded incredibly supportive.”

  Ryan half-heartedly smiled. “I think she was hyper competitive, so she understood what drew me. We had to stop playing Monopoly when I was twelve because she’d own all the good property while I inevitably sit in jail. Not once did she let me roll my way out. I always had to pay the fine.”

  Sophie laughed, dropping her head, and Ryan curled his fist under her chin. “Would you like to go riding with me?”

  She nodded. Her lips were inches from his, and he could taste her sweet breath as if she were breathing life back into him. Then she pulled away, eyes darting as she took in the whole stable. “This place really is a diamond in the rough.”

  “You like it?”

  “I do.” The horse in the stall next to them whinnied, and Sophie jerked her head in the mare’s direction. “Can I meet her?”

  Ryan caressed her cheek. Can I kiss you? “Yes,” he said instead. Stupid mare and her impeccably awful timing.

  Sophie bit her bottom lip and stood, taking Ryan’s hands and pulling him up with her. Outside of the stall, she grabbed a handful of grain from a mesh feed bag and clucked at the mare. The horse nickered before plotting over and stretched her neck through the iron bars, investigating. The plaque on the stall door read SANTANA. Sophie opened her palm under Santana’s muzzle and she eagerly lapped up the grain. Lucky horse. Ryan stepped away to the tack stall. He grabbed a halter and lead line off the hook, and the chaps, which sat on top a western saddle.

  Sophie turned around. “You know how to get the horses ready?”

  His lips twisted. Partially because he wanted that kiss he’d started in his head and partially because he loved that she seemed impressed that he could saddle a horse. “Did this for years.” Ryan leaned against the stall door and gazed at Sophie. She seemed so relaxed and happy. He wanted to offer her a lifetime of feeling this way.

  “You’re so lucky.”

  Ryan chuckled. “I didn’t feel so lucky when I was a fourteen-year-old kid shoveling manure. That’s purgatory for the male teen.”

  “Oh, yeah, I guess so.”

  “Have you ever ridden before?”

  “No, never.”

  “Well, you’re in for a treat. Nothing quite compares to riding a horse. In fact,” Ryan said, handing her the brown, leather chaps, “yesterday you rode your first Ducati and today your first horse. I’d say this trip has been educational in many ways.”

  Sophie blushed, and that gave him smug satisfaction. She stared at the chaps, and he realized she had no idea how to put them on. “May I?”

  “Um, yeah, thank you.” She handed them back.

  Ryan set down the halter and unsnapped the long line of buttons. Newer chaps had zippers, but these old, leather ones resembled chaps from a John Wayne movie. And Ryan wouldn’t miss the opportunity to assist.

  He took her leg and
propped it up on his thigh. Her leg was smooth and her calf muscle flexed in his palm. He wrapped the chap around her leg, snapping the first button at her ankle and worked his way up to the top of her thigh. Then he repeated the same motion with the other leg.

  There are two things a young man won’t forget: The first time their father hands their ass to them from wrecking the family car while drag racing, which he’d won, and the first time they touch the woman they want to marry. Ryan’s thoughts shifted to the night he made love to Sophie. Though years had separated them from that night, he still recalled exactly how her skin felt against his palm, and how it was no less perfect now than it was in the bed of his old Ford.

  When he fastened the last snap, he stood, allowing his hands to trail the back of her body.

  She pressed into him, and her breathing quivered.

  “That’s a good look for you.”

  “Yeah?” Her breath caught. She lightly pursed her lips together and set her hands over his biceps. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.” Ryan skimmed his fingers all the way up her back until they reached her shoulders. He gently pulled her hair, tilting her face upward to meet his. Her velvety skin smelled like fresh air and juicy pears. He saw his future in her eyes.

  She bit her lower lip.

  Easy, Ryan. She’s nervous.

  Her nails dug into the back of his arms, and he inched her in closer until his lips brushed against hers. “You smell incredible.”

  Her lips parted just enough for his mouth to cover hers, and he pressed into its softness. She moved her hands to the back of his shirt and gripped.

  He lifted her to her tiptoe and pushed her flat against the stall door, searching every part of her mouth. It was silky and giving, allowing him to navigate and rediscover a place he once knew so very well.

  Her breath hitched, and she threaded her fingers into his hair, arching into him.

  His passion rose to meet hers. If he didn’t stop now, he’d be tempted to take her on the barn floor. Conjuring every ounce of self-control he had, he broke the kiss, drawing back and searching her eyes.

  Ryan brushed his thumb against her flushed cheek. “I like this look on you.” When her eyes beckoned him to come closer, he obeyed.

  “Hey, guys,” Jamba called.

  Damn! Thought he was gone.

  Ryan grunted and pushed himself off the stall door.

  Jamba’s head peered out from a stall at the end of the row. He wore a Patriots shirt and a Mets baseball cap. His timing may be way off, but at least he had good sports sense.

  “What’s up?” Ryan answered.

  “Bad news. Joplin’s out. She has hives.”

  “Huh?” Sophie’s eyes were still dilated. Ryan felt a thrill of pleasure knowing he’d made her feel that way. “Is she going to be okay?”

  “Horses get hives all the time. She just can’t go out today if you were hoping to ride her. I’ll give her a dose of meds and she’ll be good in the morning.”

  Sophie slumped against the stall door and Santana stuck out her head, nuzzling her hair. Sophie patted the side of her jaw. “Good girl,” she cooed, coaxing Santana’s neck further out of the stall. “I guess we don’t get to ride. That’s a bummer.”

  “You can ride.” Jamba walked past them. ”Double up on Santana. She’s a gentle quarter horse so you won’t need a saddle.” He ducked into the tack stall and brought out a bridle and a Clemson orange bareback pad. Handing it to Ryan he offered a couple quick tips and left the barn.

  “You won’t need these then,” he said, pointing to the chaps. “You can take those off.”

  “I liked it better when you did it,” Sophie teased.

  Ryan grinned. He tried to maintain a cool front though his insides scorched. Me too. Sophie removed the chaps and handed them to Ryan. He dumped them on the ground. “Shall we?” He unlocked the metal latch to Santana’s stall, and Sophie stepped inside.

  She cocked her head at the horse. “So, what do we do?”

  “Just trust me. I’ll take care of everything.” As he uttered the sentence, Ryan hoped she would remember those words long after they finished riding.

  Chapter 29

  Sophie, having never ridden before, and still completely dazed from that earth-shattering kiss, felt incredibly incompetent on top of this beast with nothing but a bareback pad keeping her from the hard ground. It was one thing to see a quarter horse up close; a completely different thing to be that high off the ground. Luckily, her competent cowboy sat behind her. And with his arms firmly wrapped around her hips and the reins secured in his grip, she could ride like this for days. Darn Henry Ford and his invention anyway.

  “It’s incredible out here,” Sophie said as they walked along a canyon trail. Dried barren trees appeared to have popped up from scattered seeds with no worry about where they grew. She longed for that sort of simplicity. As far as she could see, the landscape looked like a scene from an old western movie,varying shades of browns and reds cascading throughout. Aside from Ryan, the horse, and the distant sound of a city too far away to gauge actual distance, she felt she was in her own island within an island.

  “I’m glad you’re having a good time,” Ryan said, his lips pressed to her ear. “Happy you stayed?”

  Sophie sighed and leaned against Ryan’s solid chest. She ached to touch him, to explore him, to try again. “Mostly.” No matter how hard she tried to disconnect, the café’s financial woes seeped into her thoughts. “But I’m worried about the future of the café. The company doesn’t seem to value it. But I care. If I can’t make them see the vision, I’m going to lose funding.”

  “Have you had a meeting with the board?” Ryan’s hand caressed Sophie’s as she stroked Santana’s mane.

  “They stopped taking my calls a long time ago. But I’m waiting to hear back from grants. And when I get home, I think I’m going to organize an outreach fundraiser.”

  “You really care about them.”

  “Yeah, we’re a family.”

  “What would happen if it closed down?”

  Sophie thought about it for a moment. Asher’s warning about the café closing replayed in her mind. “Nothing good, that’s for sure. To understand the girls, you have to really understand the disease. There’s not a lot of awareness out there to help troubled teens who throw up on a whim.”

  “And you understand it?”

  Sophie shrugged. She wasn’t ready to tell Ryan about her experience. There was no way he could understand.

  “You know I’ve followed your career,” he said out of left field.

  Sophie twisted so she could clearly see him. “Really?”

  “Absolutely.” The blue in his eyes turned crystal clear. His sincerity was unmistakable. “When I read your work I feel like I personally become a part of your story. You have a way of writing that evokes emotion. That’s hard to do in a space of fifteen hundred words.”

  Sophie couldn’t imagine Ryan reading her work. “How come you never told me? Usually when another journalist reads and likes a column, they comment on it in the internal loop.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe because I didn’t want you to know I was reading it.”

  She wasn’t sure if she believed that. “Okay, what’s your favorite story of mine?” She scanned his expression, looking to see if his face would betray his words. When it didn’t, she waited for him to answer. When she saw his lips curl up and the smile spread across his face, she knew exactly which one. All of them.

  Ryan adjusted his seat on the pad. “I have read every one of your articles for the past ten years.”

  Sophie heard herself swallow. If that didn’t make a girl want to kiss a guy, what would?

  “But my absolute favorite was your four-part series on how reading memory-jogging articles and class
ic books to the elderly increased their appetites and boosted their morale. The part about reading old Sunday morning comics like Li’l Abner and Peanuts really struck a chord.”

  Wow. She owed that article to Grandmoo. Grandmoo spurred her heart for seniors. She found reading old articles like the opening of Macy’s in New York and personal accounts of meeting JFK brought smiles to lonely faces who had no idea what was going on in the present.

  So, she wrote the series to honor Grandmoo, as well as Donovan’s mother whose dementia had worsened.

  “Ryan, I had no idea. Thank you.”

  “So, will you tell me something else?”

  Sophie relaxed back into his chest. “Okay.”

  “Tell me about the girls in your café. I want to know about them.”

  The calm wind gently danced around the leaves. A few shoots broke loose and glided to the ground. “When you have your face in the toilet, and you slowly wreck your intestines one heave at a time because you feel it gives you a measure of control, it slowly kills you. But really it takes control of you. That’s what I’m fighting with these girls. Control over the disease. Not the disease itself.”

  “Wow. And they all struggle?”

  “In some form or fashion. Charlie was the first to join our group and stick around. Not willingly at first. The judge gave her the option to join or complete a thousand hours of community service for a minor vandalizing offense. Then came Joy, Erika, Jasmine, Quita, Dominique, Deidra with her unpredictable mood swings, and Jenny who is quiet. Though girls have come and gone like a revolving door, the core group stuck around. All of them have something special and unique about them.” Sophie relaxed against Ryan and breathed him in. He smelled good enough to eat . . . or kiss.

  “You don’t need a license to run a group like that?”