Her Hidden Falls Anti-Hero Cowboy

by Taylor Hart

  And then . . .

  She vomited nasty stale scotch and strong coffee all over the gutter. It burned her throat, her nose, any sense of self-dignity gone.

  She was horrified.

  Unfortunately, she couldn’t stop it. She hunched over and felt another wave coming on.

  “Charlotte?” Ryan took her under his arm and hurried her back across the street.

  The surge came on again. “I can’t—”

  Ryan picked her up, stopping whatever was going to vomit out. He whisked her through the door of the bookstore. “Where?”

  All Charlotte could do was point and try to hold back the nauseous tide.

  Ryan moved toward the bathroom like she didn’t weigh him down at all. “Here we go.” He put her down next to the toilet and pulled the seat up.

  Charlotte vomited again. Every part of her trembled, and even though she knew she would be tragically embarrassed and upset that this was what Ryan was seeing of her, there was nothing, physically, she could do. Except vomit again and again.

  She didn’t know if it would ever stop, and her head was spinning.

  She tried to steady herself with the toilet and felt her hair being pulled back and gently tied at the back of her head.

  All of this was done just in time for her to vomit again.

  She heard the water turn on and felt a cool towel on her head. “Shh. It’ll be all right now. You’re okay.”

  She wasn’t okay. Whatever had made her think she could get away with guzzling a bottle of scotch? She now knew she could never get away with it.

  Her body stilled.

  Ryan cleaned up around her mouth and then quickly and efficiently wiped down her clothes. “Let me help you to bed.”

  She tried to fight the gentleness of his touch. “You gave that telescope to him.”

  The look that flashed over his face was one of complete ignorance.

  “I know you did.” She held her ground.

  Finally, he shrugged. “He deserved it.”

  Charlotte felt woozy. Woozy and dizzy. She stumbled.

  Strong, warm hands steadied her. “Charlotte, I’ll let you slap me for it as soon as you rest, okay?”

  Charlotte stared into his eyes. They seemed light, unguarded, exactly the same as the first time she’d met him. The clear blue was so innocent, pure, and young. She couldn’t stop it then. The tears. The shame. The pain. She cried the awful cry of true, unabashed pain.

  He pulled her against his chest. “Shh.” His arms wrapped around her and stroked down her head. “You’re tired. Let’s get you to bed.”

  She let him lead her, but she couldn’t stop crying, and she hated herself for it.

  Ryan tugged her gently with him through the apartment, looking around.

  Charlotte pointed up the stairs. “Up there.”

  Ryan picked her up again.

  Charlotte felt so weak, frail, and everything she didn’t want him to think she was. Everything she wanted to stuff away and hide and stomp to the depths of, what Sam would call, “the planet’s core.” She sighed out a soft laugh at the childish description.

  Ryan reached her bed and gently put her down. He moved things off her bed and pulled back the covers. “Okay, Char, let’s have you sleep for a while.”

  Charlotte didn’t know if this was a dream or a nightmare. Char. He’d called her Char. Pain expanded into her chest. That’s what he used to call her. She opened her eyes and tried to focus on Ryan. Pain hammered into her head and her body started to shake. “The store.”

  Ryan gently felt her forehead and frowned. “Is the store open?”

  Charlotte nodded and closed her eyes. She wanted to force herself to stay awake. She wanted to will herself to get out of bed, but she knew that was impossible. So she did what she always did when she needed help. “Get Angela.”

  “Who?” Ryan’s voice sounded far away.

  “Angela.”

  “Okay.”

  “Ryan.”

  He stared down at her tired face. “Yes.”

  “You’re getting the ranch over my dead body.”

  Chapter 15

  Ryan sat in a chair next to her bed, watching her sleep.

  He, once again, wished for the release of some kind of emotion. He wished he could cry, or at least tear up, but he knew he wouldn’t. He hadn’t even cried when they’d finally gotten home. When the mental health specialist assigned to him had asked why he thought he couldn’t cry. How was he supposed to know?

  He hadn’t cared.

  Why should it have mattered? Why should he cry? Wasn’t it a good thing to get out? To escape?

  So he sat here. Not crying.

  He’d been taken off guard, shocked, even semi-disgusted when Charlotte had thrown up on the street.

  But he could handle a little throw up. He’d smelled a lot worse for a lot longer than a couple seconds. Smells usually didn’t even bother him anymore.

  He had to admit he’d found her vulnerability slightly attractive. Call it old fashioned, it was ingrained inside of him. To help. To complete a mission. To be a hero. His mother had known this. It had been the reason she’d insisted he follow through and join the military. She’d even told him, “Go be a hero to the world and then come back and be my hero.”

  Too bad she’d been wrong. He hadn’t been capable of being a hero to anybody.

  He shook his head and clutched the photograph in his hand.

  This picture. It’s what had about undone him.

  He’d found the empty bottle of scotch on the floor next to the desk, but he didn’t judge her. He would be the last person to judge anybody. Everyone had to deal, and if she had to do this, well . . . he didn’t like it. He especially didn’t like it because she had her kid. He knew how it felt to have an alcoholic for a parent.

  No. He didn’t like that at all. But . . . Okay, he was judging her. He had to get out of this town as fast as he could. He heaved in a long breath. He stood up and efficiently cleaned up her room, putting all the pictures into the box on the floor.

  He trudged through the store. It was cute, and the pastries didn’t hurt the place either. As he walked through the aisles of used books it hit him. He laughed again about the name of the store, The Do Over.

  Nice.

  He sauntered over to the glass case that housed the pastries. They looked fresh. The coffee smelled even better. He poured himself a cup and promised himself he would pay her later.

  He sipped the coffee and pulled out his phone. Star would know how to find Angela. Apparently, this Angela was the one who could cover the store. He pushed the button to call Star. He needed to get Charlotte some help, get her mother to sign the paperwork, and get out of this town.

  The door dinged, and he looked up.

  A woman with a neon purple scarf wrapped through her black hair and assorted earrings up her ear stared back at him. Immediately, she went into a ninja position. Her face contorted into a comic imitation of a very mean, very intense kung-fu fighter. She kicked. “Ya! Ya! Don’t mess with me! Where’s Charlotte?”

  Ryan snorted the coffee. “Huh?”

  Her eyes darted frantically around the store. “I will so bust you up.”

  Ryan imagined what he looked like—a bloody guy sipping coffee. He put the coffee down. “It’s not what you think.”

  The purple-scarfed ninja tucked her head and let out a loud banshee cry. “I knew something was wrong!” She bulldozed around the glass and planted her head into his stomach.

  It did take the wind out of him. “Wait!”

  She got in a quick jab and tried for another.

  Ryan grabbed her fist mid-strike. “I’m Ryan. Ryan Hardman. I’m a—”

  She didn’t wait for him to say more. Her jaw dropped, and her hands went to her cheeks. “Shut up! Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, ohmygosh!” The way she reached for him, with ninja-like speed, he found himself smothered in an exuberant jumping hug. “I knew it! I knew it! I totally knew it!” She pulled back and shook her
head. “Did she tell you I called it? Did she?”

  Ryan knew what to do when people hit him and tried to beat him up. Heck, he even knew how to play nice and be a salesman. He didn’t know what to do with a hyper, ninja, purple scarf wearing woman.

  She stuck her hand out. “Can I see your palm? Please? Seriously, just for a second.”

  Ryan let her take his hand.

  She stared down at it and then her head swung up. “What did you do to her?”

  Chapter 16

  The only reason Charlotte had come to the Halloween party was to retrieve her son. She pulled up to the line of cars and cursed. Why did her mother have to have this party every year? Why did she insist on inviting the whole county? Why did she think it was fun? Just . . . why?

  Charlotte did feel better, a lot better. As soon as she’d woken up at about five o’clock to the silence of emptiness, it had all come back to her. The telescope. Ryan. The anger. The vomit. She’d stayed in bed another ten minutes and tried to convince herself it hadn’t been as bad as she was remembering. She tried, with no success.

  Finally, she’d gotten up, padded down to the closed up store, and called Angela. Angela had informed her that she’d attacked the bloody man in the store before she’d realized it was Ryan.

  Charlotte had eaten a few saltine crackers before taking some ibuprofen and cleaning herself up. Note to self, she and Scotch didn’t mix.

  She detoured past the parked cars and off roaded to the back of the house. She scanned the perimeter for Nathan’s car and didn’t see it. She really just wanted to get Sam and go home. She didn’t want to talk about the sale of the ranch. She didn’t want to fight with Nathan. She didn’t want to see Ryan. Not after . . . She couldn’t even think about it.

  As she took the corner and got back on the gravel road that led to the back of the house, she realized the universe wasn’t giving her anything that she wanted.

  Nathan and Ryan both stood there—ready to fight.

  They were toe to toe at the bottom of the porch. Sara and Sam stood at the top of the porch next to the door. Both men turned as she pulled up next to them. Ryan abruptly backed away from Nathan.

  Nathan met her as she opened the door. “You can’t let this happen, Charlotte. This will ruin our town. If we bring in a big developer like this, it will shut down commerce inside the city. It will make it so nobody goes into Hidden Falls and rents a hotel room or eats at a local joint.” He tilted his head and widened his eyes. “Or checks out a local bookstore. Seriously, this will ruin our economy. It will ruin everything that Hidden Falls is. You can’t let your mother do this.”

  Charlotte stood as tall as she could and shoved the door shut. “Stop it, Nathan.”

  “But—”

  “I can’t do this right now. I don’t feel good.” She knew it was a cop out. In fact, it was a cop out she’d used many times throughout her marriage.

  Nathan’s eyes were sharp and calculating as he did a quick up and down. His face showed mock concern. “What’s wrong?”

  Charlotte wanted to defy him. She wanted to tell him that he could take whatever load of crap he wanted to peddle and shove it where the sun didn’t shine.

  But she didn’t.

  Her son was right there, and she couldn’t put him through this tonight. Not after the telescope incident. Not after everything else they’d put him through the past year. There was also the fact that her mother was in the middle of her Halloween party.

  Even though Ryan’s warm arms tucking her into his chest and then tucking her into bed had caused all of her emotions to whiplash, she still didn’t know if it was a good idea to sell. Everything inside of her wanted to fight for the ranch. Fight for the dream. Fight for what her father would have wanted.

  She couldn’t be on Nathan’s side of this. Could she? It didn’t feel right. At all.

  Nathan took a step closer to her. Too close. “You’ve got to listen to me.”

  “I’m taking Sam inside to the party.” Her mother opened the screen door.

  Charlotte looked up at her son. His face was pensive, sad, and angry—all at once. She knew he’d been more emotional lately. The divorce had been hard on Sam.

  Sam had changed. He was fragile. Sometimes angry to a point that Charlotte no longer knew how to help him. He would cry at the drop of a hat. He would fly into rages. All she knew was that it was her fault. “Hi, sweetie.” Charlotte tried to put on her best “everything’s okay” voice.

  Sam blinked. “Hey, Mom.”

  Her mother tugged at his arm. “Let’s bob for some apples.” The screen door slammed behind them.

  Nathan kept going. “You have to listen to me.”

  The throbbing ache in her head finally exploded. “Fine,” she snapped.

  Nathan’s eyes widened.

  When she’d been married to him she’d been warned about snapping at Nathan in public. He felt it made both of them look stupid. Too bad she didn’t care about looking stupid anymore.

  Nathan leaned back with a glare. “Fine. Ask Ryan why he wants to buy the property.”

  “I’m not buying it.” Ryan’s voice was soft.

  Charlotte turned to him for the first time. He wasn’t looking at her. He was looking past her. His arms were crossed and his stance reminded her of the old Ryan at the end of a long day at the ranch. He’d stood like that as he looked over his work to see if it was good enough or not—if he could be done for the day or not.

  Nathan clenched his hand into a fist and let out a breath of air. “Ask him what his company wants to do with the land.”

  Charlotte rolled her eyes and turned back to Ryan. “What is your company going to do with the land?”

  Ryan shifted his gaze to hers. It was the unattached, “I don’t know you” gaze, not the one from earlier. These were not the eyes that had tucked her into bed. “Sell it.”

  “And what will they do with it?”

  Ryan didn’t flinch. “Develop it.” He shrugged and averted his eyes back to the ranch. “It’s usually what development companies do.”

  Nathan scrubbed his face a couple of times with his hand. This gesture was one he consciously tried not to do when he was irritated and upset. He’d worked on carefully controlling his gestures so people couldn’t read his emotions. Obviously, he was failing at the moment. He glared at Ryan. “Convenient, isn’t it? Convenient to come into a town and talk people into selling something they’ve always loved and then ride into the sunset while the whole thing implodes on itself.” Nathan swore. “Seems like you’ve always been doing this job, one way or another. You make a mess and then leave me to clean it up.”

  Charlotte’s heart pounded as though a tsunami had just swooped in. She knew what Nathan was doing. He was threatening her. “Shut up, Nathan. Just shut up. Get off my property.”

  Nathan smirked. He’d crossed a line. He liked to be at the line. He liked to hold the line over her head. “Whatever.” He took a few steps back and kept his eyes on hers. “Just remember that there’s more at stake here than your property, Charlotte.”

  “Best do what the lady asked.” Ryan’s voice was cold, hollow, commanding.

  Nathan swung his gaze to Ryan. “Oh yeah? What? Are you going to go all military commando on me, Ryan? Really? We’re not back in high school, and we’re not in some freaking foreign country where U.S. troops can go around harassing whoever they want. We’re adults now, and we’re in the freaking USA, so back off or I’ll call the cops.”

  “Did someone say cops?”

  Charlotte sighed with relief when she saw Sean walk out the screen door and purposefully down the porch steps. He was taller than both Nathan and Ryan. Charlotte knew he took the whole cop thing seriously—on or off duty. It was one of the things she’d always liked about the Hardman boys—their sense of duty.

  Nathan dramatically made an obnoxious throat noise then he spit right in front of Sean’s feet. “Oh, my bad, officer. Excuse me.”

  Before Charlotte realized what h
appened, Ryan stepped in front of Sean. “Show some respect.”

  Nathan took a step back and glared at Ryan. “It always did take more than one Hardman boy to fight each other’s battles.”

  Sean’s voice was low, his eyes focused on Nathan. “You’d do best to know your enemy before you face that enemy.”

  Nathan slowly shook his head. “Right, whatever. You just need to remember that I’m pretty good friends with your Sergeant.”

  A loud laugh came from the screen door. It opened and Beau stepped out. “Oh, mayor, see that’s the funny thing. You always like to throw your political weight around, but too bad it doesn’t matter much when you have to step up and be a man.” He glanced around. “And too bad that you’ll have to tell everyone you stumbled down some stairs when we get done kicking your trash.” He glanced at Charlotte and slowly sauntered down the steps. “Or maybe you’ll have to use another excuse for the bruises we’ll give you—Lord knows you’re good at thinking them up."

  Nathan paled. “You better hold your tongue, boy.”

  Charlotte felt the heat lick up the sides of her face. Beau. He couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He’d never been able to keep his mouth shut. She hated the way the tears sprang into her eyes. Tears of shame, embarrassment, humiliation. She’d thought she’d covered it up well the day she’d run into him at the market after one of Nathan’s episodes. She tried to focus on the previous anger to keep the tears from going down her face.

  Ryan turned to face her, his face completely blank. Nothing different about him except the way his hands were clutched into fists at his sides.

  Chapter 17

  Tense, angry adrenaline spiked Ryan’s heart rate. He glared at Nathan. “You better tell me you never hit her.”

  “You liar, I’ll sue you for slander.” Nathan spat at Beau, but he took a step back.

  Beau stepped next to Ryan’s shoulder and let out a cackle. “The truth hurts.”