by Erica Penrod
“Maybe there was a spark for her too, intriguing her enough to get to know you.” Gemma zipped up her jacket.
“And who knows? Maybe she won’t want to date you after she gets to know you.” Jamon tossed a hot pad at Waylon.
“Gee, thanks.” He threw the pad back and nailed Jamon in the head. “Maybe you’re right and I’m reading way too much into her invitation. I guess I’ll have to suck it up and go.”
Gemma burst out laughing. “I don’t think you should use those terms with Tayla. It sounds like you’re expecting a root canal instead of a day out with a beautiful woman.”
“Don’t forget she’s a very rich woman.” Jamon pointed his spatula at Waylon.
“Don’t remind me.” Waylon didn’t want to be intimidated by Tayla’s wealth, but how could he not? “Another reason I should stay home.”
“Oh, come on.” Jamon pulled the steaks from the grill, put them on plates, and covered them in foil. “You’re more cowboy than that.”
“That’s easy for Mr. Billionaire to say, but not for an average Joe like me.”
Jamon placed the steaks on the table. “You don’t want anyone to judge you by your paycheck?”
“No.” Waylon exhaled.
“Then don’t judge Tayla by hers. It works both ways.”
“I agree with Jamon, but I also understand what you’re saying.” Gemma’s hazel eyes brimmed with kindness. “You’re a traditional man and a cowboy. In your mind, you should be able to financially take care of a woman in a lifestyle she’s accustomed to, if she needed it or wanted it. Up until now, you’ve never considered a relationship any other way.”
Waylon nodded. “Exactly.” He smiled at Gemma, hoping to convey his gratitude.
“How about we eat?” Jamon set the grilled veggies on the table next to the steaks. “And why don’t we worry about this tomorrow, after your outing with Tayla, when we know if there’s something to worry about or not?”
“Yeah, alright.” The juicy steak might be enough to take his mind off Tayla, at least for a few minutes.
Gemma shook her head. “Waylon, if you’d like to talk about it some more, we can. You know how your brother is when a piece of red meat is on his plate.” She winked at Jamon, who winked right back.
“Thanks, but I’m good.” Waylon picked up his knife. “And I’d have to agree with my brother on this one. Who wants to talk about feelings when there’s a juicy steak to eat?”
“Apparently not you two.” Gemma placed her napkin on her lap. “But if you change your mind anytime, I’m always available.”
“I appreciate that.” Waylon speared a piece of steak with his fork. “But maybe Jamon’s right and there’s no sense in worrying until I know there’s something to worry about.”
So much for being one hundred percent honest. He’d known there was something to fret about since the moment he’d seen Tayla. She’d sent his heart to the moon and back with just one glance, and her kiss—well, that was in a universe of its own. He smiled at Gemma and Jamon as he put a bite of meat in his mouth, knowing perfectly well he’d be up counting the stars as he wondered what would happen with Tayla when the sun came up.
* * *
Tayla’s blue Ferrari stood out like a watermelon in a potato patch in the apartment complex parking lot. Waylon said he’d be ready by noon and she was six minutes early. She dabbed at her lip gloss as she checked her reflection in the rearview mirror. If she knocked on the door now, she might appear overeager. She watched the clock for three more minutes until she got out to locate apartment 164.
The six-story building was like a slate-grey box with windows. Neatly trimmed shrubs bordered the bottom of the complex, and skinny pines stood on the corners. Tayla glanced up at the stairs and was grateful Waylon lived on the first floor. Her makeup would be a mess after a hike to the top floor in this humidity. She touched her forehead, checking for moisture at just the thought. For a woman who wasn’t going on a date, she sure fussed over her appearance.
She arrived at Waylon’s door when her stomach dropped like she’d done a double loop on a roller coaster and her throat tightened. Tayla knocked and took a step back. An uncomfortable several seconds passed, and she worried she got the wrong apartment.
The door opened. “Sorry.” Waylon stood in the doorway in a half-buttoned shirt. Her jaw went slack at the beautiful sight. “I got back from fishing a little later than I planned.” His damp hair demanded to be touched, or at least the runaway lock along his forehead beckoned. His clean-shaven skin must’ve been covered in aftershave, as a delicious aroma wafted in the air around her. She focused on the details of his face, his slightly crooked nose, and eyes that took her home every time she looked in them. His dimples, like parentheses around his mouth, whispered to her, “Sure, his eyes are gorgeous, but wait till you get a taste of me.”
She clenched her fingers into her palms, her nails digging into her flesh—a physical reminder not to lose her inhibition, grab him by the collar, and kiss him until she got her fill.“Are you okay?” Waylon asked.
“Uh, yeah, I’m fine.” She collected herself.
“Oh, good.” He finished up the last few buttons of his shirt—a travesty if she ever saw one. “I worried you were mad at me again.” He flashed a quick smile, and her breath caught.
“No, not yet, anyway.” She glanced down at her watch. “Give me five minutes.”
He laughed. “Please come in. I just need to grab my jacket and we can go.”
She nodded and stepped into his apartment. The tidy kitchen was to the right and slightly smaller than her master closet. On the opposite side was the living room with a well-loved recliner and a folding chair. A large flat-screen TV sat in the corner on a folding table. The man had his priorities.
“Sorry, I haven’t got around to furnishing the place yet.” Something in his eyes told her how important her response was to him.
“I’m very impressed.” She gave him a playful punch to the shoulder. “I think you might be a neat freak, and you have a very original take on living room arrangements.” Inside, her heart ached for all he’d been through, self-inflicted or not, and marveled at his perseverance. Her chest filled with pride over Waylon and his humble home. This was exactly the reason she worked so hard to make Prevail Recovery Centers a success. “And that TV—” She walked over and ran her hand along the thin frame. “—is the perfect focal point.”
Waylon laughed. “She’s a real beauty, isn’t she?” His eyes twinkled. “And as far as you know, I might appear to be a neat freak, but perhaps it’s because I don’t own anything.”
She shook her head. “Nope, I’m not buying it.” Tayla walked up to him and touched her finger to his chest. “You are clean.”
Waylon grabbed her hand. “How do you know?”
His hand over hers was like a missing link. “Uh …” Her voice hitched. She pointed with her free hand. “The vacuum tracks. They give you away.”
“Maybe I just hurried and vacuumed before you got here.” He didn’t let go of her.
“No.” She bit her lip. “The lines are perfectly matched into straight rows. No messy man does that.” She swallowed the lump in her throat.
Waylon squeezed her hand before he took back his own. “Alright, I’ll confess. I do prefer things to be in their place.”
Tayla felt the absence of his touch as she thought about her clothes she’d dropped in the middle of the closet floor and the bed she’d left unmade. Maybe she shouldn’t disclose that much information just yet. In her defense, she’d employed maids for several years now and didn’t think much about cleaning anymore. The place was always perfect when she got home, and cleaning was the last thing on her mind.
“I knew it.” She glanced at her watch. “We’d better get going, if that’s okay?”
“Of course.” He walked over and opened a closet. “I’ve got my jacket and I’m ready.”
Tayla clenched her teeth and grinned. I sure hope my heart is ready for this.
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Nine
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Waylon stared at the helicopter waiting for them in Tayla’s back yard. “I could’ve driven to your house.”
“I asked you to come with me.”
“Friends can meet friends at their houses.” He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “But if this were a date, then yeah, you were right to pick me up.” He loved watching her cheeks blush and the way she bit her lip. And teasing her helped him focus on her and not the internal struggle between his heart and his mind. When he’d opened the door and seen her standing there in fitted jeans, cowboy boots, and a brown leather bomber jacket, his heart cried out, Oh, heck yeah! Her midnight hair, short and wild, made its own statement, and her large gold hoops were the exclamation points. Her precisely lined brows framed her crystal-blue eyes. Eyes that stared at him. His mind chanted, This will never work.
“Do you want it to be a date?” Tayla cocked her head and gave him a sideways glance as if the question were a challenge. She dished the teasing right back at him.
“No.” He crossed his arms and pulled his lips in a tight line. “I’m good.” The act lasted for three seconds, and they laughed.
“Come on, let’s go.” Tayla headed towards the chopper. The air swirled around them, and the noise grew louder and louder. A man held the door and helped Tayla inside. Waylon followed, and the door was closed behind him. The pilot handed them each a headset as the other man climbed in.
“We’re headed to Yakima,” Tayla said through the speaker. “The flight will be about forty-five minutes.”
His heart raced in his chest, the thundering beat echoing in his ears, and a smile was plastered to his face. Waylon couldn’t quit grinning if he tried. He’d never ridden in a chopper before, and he probably looked like a little kid on a new bike. “Is this yours?” he asked Tayla, whose wide eyes were on him. The question might not have been polite, but Waylon couldn’t resist.
“No, not this particular one. But I’ve got the same Bell 407 back in Idaho, and they’re fast. Depending on my needs here in Seattle, I may buy another one.” Tayla’s voice was calm and steady, as if she’d just announced she’d planned to pick up a new jug of milk. Her eyes lingered on his, and the kindness was still there. She wasn’t boasting; she was just telling him how her life was.
Insecurity threatened to rob this moment from him, and Waylon wouldn’t allow it. Either he accepted Tayla for the woman she was, or he didn’t. “That is so cool. It must be awesome having a helicopter.” Genuine happiness for her washed over him.
Her eyes lit up, and a tender smile emerged. “It is, and the best part is when I get to share it with friends.”
Waylon held her gaze, appreciating Tayla’s willingness to share what she had with others. “Thank you,” he mouthed, and she nodded.
For the rest of the flight, they enjoyed the scenery without words as the pilot pointed out different landmarks like a tour guide. An understanding seemed to exist between him and Tayla now; he accepted her for who she was. The question was, could she do the same?
* * *
Mended Soul Ranch was a little piece of paradise bordered by the Yakima River, about 150 miles inland from Seattle. Twenty-five fertile acres were divided into crops, pastures, and an arena. A barn with stalls and a two-story home owned by Mallory Fitz was an oasis for both troubled horses and humans.
“My best friend, Saige, told me about this place when she found out I was coming to Seattle.” Tayla peered out the window as the helicopter descended. “She said I really needed to see the facility for myself. I called Mallory on Thursday, and she was kind enough to squeeze us in today for a tour.” Tayla intended to check out Mended Soul Ranch while she was here, but with Waylon, the trip would be even better.
Waylon smiled. “I’m excited to see it.”
“I looked the place up online last night.” Tayla turned to Waylon. “The work they do here is pretty cool. Not only do they rescue horses, but they also have programs for people who’ve got PTSD and other issues.” The helicopter touched the ground in a field. They removed their headsets and remained in their seats until the pilot gave the clear to exit.
Mallory waited for them. Her handshake was strong, but she had soft brown eyes and long silver hair pulled in a ponytail with a red bandanna. “Welcome to Mended Soul Ranch.” Tayla and Waylon followed Mallory through the field to a side-by-side with four seats. “Hop in and we’ll head to the barn,” she said.
Tayla glanced at Waylon, who smiled as he jumped into the back seat. Her body leaned to follow him, but her mind chided her. Proximity diverted her from her agenda. Her concentration wavered as her mind drifted, wondering what those strong arms would feel like wrapped around her. Her knees got weak and her heart galloped away in a daydream. Tayla reined in her thoughts and climbed into the front passenger seat beside Mallory. Really, Tayla, you’re being ridiculous.
They followed the winding dirt road, passing a large alfalfa crop and a series of horse runs where each horse had a fenced-in space and a lean-to for shelter. Tayla counted twelve runs as they drove by, and she saw horses of every size and color.
“These are our graduates,” Mallory explained. “They’ve been with us long enough and are stable enough to spend time out on their own.”
“Do you keep all the horses you work with?” Waylon raised his voice over the sound of the engine.
“Ideally, we want to place them into loving homes, but we’re very selective. We have a screening process and follow-up visits to make sure the animals are adapting to their new home.”
“I’m sure it’s a big job to place a horse after they’ve been neglected or abused,” Tayla said.
“Yes, it’s a lot of work, but we want both the horse and the family to be happy.” The road forked, and Mallory took a left. “If it’s not a good fit, we bring the horse back and keep trying.” She slowed down as they approached a massive barn. “And unfortunately, there are some horses who aren’t able to recover well enough to be adopted, and the ranch becomes their home for life.”
The barn was traditional red with white trim. “Mended Soul Ranch” was painted in black, with the ranch’s brand beneath. Men and women in Mended Soul jackets wandered about them; some led horses, and others appeared to be teaching people. Tayla watched a teenage girl stretch forth a trembling hand and touch a horse with the guidance of a tall, heavyset man. Mallory parked the ATV just outside the large opened barn doors.
“I read online about other horse sanctuaries after Tayla invited me to come here. I’m impressed by the therapeutic programs available.” Waylon climbed out beside Tayla. “Can you tell me about the kind of programs you have here?”
Mallory led them into the barn. “Yes, I’d be happy to talk to you about that, but first I’d like to introduce you to a friend.” They walked about a third of the way through the barn before Mallory stopped in front of a stall. “This is Promise.”
Tayla peered inside and saw a skeleton of a horse. “Oh, my.” She covered her mouth as her eyes welled.
“It’s okay.” Mallory touched her arm. “It’s overwhelming to see something like this, but we’re here to help, and that is a good thing.”
“What happened to her?” Waylon’s voice broke, but he recovered quickly. “I’ve never seen a horse look like that.”
“Come here, girl.” Mallory pulled a small carrot from her pocket and offered it to the horse. Gingerly, the horse padded over and nipped up the treat with her lips. Mallory stroked her face and rubbed her ears. “Promise was nearly starved when she was confiscated, and her feet were a mess, but look at those eyes.” Mallory smiled. “There’s promise in there.”
“And so that became her name?” Tayla slowly raised her hand as Mallory nodded, giving her permission. She touched the animal’s face and immediately felt a calm come over her.
“Yes.” Mallory turned to Waylon. “You’re welcome to pet her too. She needs all the love and reassurance we can give her. She’s on a speci
al diet to bring her weight up without overloading her system too quickly, and the farrier is working closely with our vet in hopes her feet will make a full recovery.”
Promise leaned into Waylon’s hand.
“She likes you.” Mallory stepped away to give him more room.
He nodded and continued to pet the mare. Moisture filled his eyes, and Tayla’s heart constricted, seeing his vulnerability reflected back at her.
“Easy, sweet girl.” Waylon sighed as the horse rested her face on his chest. He stroked the top of her head and rubbed her ears. Promise exhaled, and man and beast appeared to find understanding in one another. Seconds passed as they clung to one another.
Tayla tried to clear the emotion from her voice. “So, tell me more about this program you have for helping people.”
“Horses are prey animals and are very aware of the world around them. They recognize emotions and intentions in humans, even when we’re not aware of them. With nonverbal communication, horses help a person acknowledge what’s going on inside. Most of the time, we don’t even use horsemanship skills or riding, but through simple activities where the horse mirrors the participants’ emotions. The therapist asks the person why they think the horse is behaving in a certain way, and when the person answers, they usually find the connection. Once the person concedes to their feelings, the horse will immediately be more comfortable.”
“That’s amazing.” Tayla smiled as Waylon turned towards them, his emotions appeared under control.
“I’ve been around horses my whole life and know how much they’ve meant to my family and me, but I didn’t know anything about this therapeutic aspect.” Waylon gave Promise one more pat before they walked away. “Although my friend Howard gave me a horse after my parents died, and I know what her companionship meant to me.”