Authors: Joanne Kennedy
Sarah stepped out of her car and trudged toward Kelsey’s dark house. After a half hour of listening to the highway hum beneath her wheels, the quiet country night was a little unnerving. A cricket scraped out three hesitant notes as she approached the house, then fell silent.
In a way, the silence was welcome. At Kelsey’s she could be herself, nothing more or less. She was needed and loved, and she didn’t have to worry about impressing anyone. Just walking up the driveway made her feel like a princess changing back into the carefree goose girl in a fairy tale.
Lately, she could feel her past barreling up behind her like Secretariat pounding into the homestretch. Her professional poise sometimes felt like a heavy crown that weighed her down, and lately it kept slipping to one side when she accidently dropped a
G
or sat down at the conference table with her legs astraddle like the cowgirl she used to be. One of these days she was bound to blurt out a cuss word at a meeting or bring up Whiplash the Cowboy Monkey again.
Not that it mattered anymore. Gloria had spilled most of her secrets last night at the dinner table, and no doubt she’d leaked more during the pillow talk portion of the night.
She eased Kelsey’s front door open, slipped inside the darkened house, and closed it carefully behind her so the latch wouldn’t click. She was sure she’d carried off her stealth mission until Katie’s little black terrier mix rocketed down the hallway and skidded to a stop at her feet. The dog whined and wriggled, all bright eyes and pink panting tongue.
“Shhhh, Corky. Shhhh.” She picked up the puppy and carried him over to the sofa. Cradling him in one arm, she settled into Kelsey’s needlepoint throw pillows.
A shadowy form appeared in the dark hallway. “Sarah?”
“Fortunately, yes. But I could be Ted Bundy. You really ought to lock your door.”
“We’re in Two Shot.”
“We’re in the twenty-first century.”
“Good point, I guess.” Kelsey sat down on the edge of a rocking recliner that used to be Mike’s TV chair. Actually, it had been more like his throne. He’d held court there every night, king of the remote, flicking from football to fights and back to football while Kelsey waited on him.
At least now that he was gone she wore comfortable pajamas. After their marriage, Kelsey’s entire nighttime wardrobe had consisted of sexy sheer nighties with scratchy lace inserts. Sarah had wondered how she ever managed to sleep in them.
Kelsey had always been the pretty sister, while Sarah was the smart one. Kelsey was taller and curvier, with a generous figure that inspired envy in their girl classmates and lust in the boys. She’d had her pick of dates, and Mike had been her choice. At the time, Sarah thought it was a good one. The handsome, easygoing football player seemed like a good match for bright, bubbly Kelsey.
Except that he couldn’t seem to hold a real job and was a self-centered bastard. But they didn’t know all that until six months ago, when he’d walked out and left her on her own with two-year-old Katie.
“So how’s it going?” Sarah asked, keeping her voice low so she wouldn’t wake Katie. “You feeling okay?”
“So far. But I’ve got the flickering.” Kelsey fluttered her fingers on either side of her face. “I’ll have a migraine tomorrow.”
“Can’t you take something for it? I think there’s something you can take when you get the warning signs. You need to go to a doctor, Kelse. It’s not fair to Katie.”
“What wouldn’t be fair to Katie is getting hooked on some drug.” Kelsey’s pretty face creased into a frown. “You know what it’s like to deal with a mother who’s impaired half the time. I won’t let that happen.”
“It’s not booze, it’s migraine medication. There’s no danger of addiction, and…”
“Sarah, I’m working on it, okay? You think I don’t care about Katie? You think I want to spend all day Saturday on the sofa nursing a headache while my kid spends the whole day having fun with you? You think I like taking my sister’s money so I can keep a roof over our heads?” She swiped at her eyes. “I’m trying. I’m doing deep breathing, and I’m rewiring my brain.”
“Rewiring your brain?”
“Thinking positive thoughts. It creates new neural pathways and actually makes you intrinsically happier.”
“New neural pathways, huh?”
Maybe that was why Sarah couldn’t stop thinking about Lane. He’d made her intrinsically hornier. It was a good thing she had Kelsey and Katie to distract her, or she’d become a sex maniac by Monday.
She pulled her legs up onto the sofa and sat Indian style facing her sister. “So what did you do this week?”
“Worked.”
“No, I mean what were your days like? We talked about trying to simplify things, remember?”
“My life is simple. I take care of Katie. I work. It’s not rocket science.”
“It is when you try to do it perfectly.”
“I know.” Kelsey kicked idly, hitting the front of the recliner with her heel as she furrowed her brow in thought. “I gave Katie cold cereal on Tuesday and Wednesday. But I could tell she didn’t like it, and when I made pancakes Thursday morning she was so happy.”
“What time did you have to get up to do that?”
“Five.” Kelsey sighed. “And the night before was the PTO meeting. I had to go, because they were working on the fund-raiser for new safety equipment for the playground. There’s this new surfacing material made from recycled Styrofoam…”
“Can’t other people take care of that? Just until things get easier for you?”
“They need my support. And besides, things aren’t going to get easier.”
“But you’ll learn how to balance things. And Katie’s growing up.”
“Too fast.” Kelsey rose from the sofa and began picking up the plastic Weebles scattered around the floor. The little round toys were a hazard, but Sarah couldn’t help feeling that Kelsey was only picking them up so she wouldn’t have to look Sarah in the eye.
“I do all right.” She tossed the Weebles into a basket that was already brimming with stuffed toys, board books, and plastic cars. “In fact, I can pay you some of your money back.”
“You don’t have to do that. It wasn’t a loan.”
One of the Weebles rolled off the heap of toys and fell to the floor. Kelsey scrambled after it on her hands and knees as it rolled under the sofa. “Well, I can’t just take it.”
“You need it to pay bills.”
“I did. But I’m doing better now.” She held up the Weeble as if capturing the renegade toy was evidence of her newfound success.
“How? Did you get a raise?”
“No. I just—I have some extra, okay?”
“Well, spend it on Katie then.”
“Yeah, ’cause she needs more toys.” Kelsey lurched to her feet and sighed. “I’m all right, Sarah. I appreciate your help, but I’ll be okay.”
“Well, I don’t mind helping.” Sarah scratched the dog under the chin and the puppy grinned and panted. “I just don’t think you should have to work so hard. You don’t have to be perfect, you know.”
“You’re telling me this? Picture-perfect professional Sarah?”
“Oh, I’m definitely not perfect.” Sarah shifted the dog in her lap and gave his collar a totally unnecessary adjustment.
Kelsey cocked her head and studied her. “You’re not, are you? What happened? Why are you here in the middle of the night?”
“Nothing. I just—roommate problems.”
“That Gloria girl? I wondered about that. She sounded like a wild child.”
“You have no idea.” Sarah shuddered, remembering the tangle of naked arms and legs on her sofa. “Kelsey, I don’t think I can room with her anymore.”
“I don’t think you should have to.” Kelsey started kicking the recliner again. “I can make it, Sarah. And Mike will start paying his share soon.”
“What makes you think that?” Sarah asked.
Kelsey shrugged and looked away. “I just—I just think he will.”
“Listen, what if I stayed with you? Just for a while. That way I could get away from Gloria and still help out.”
Sarah had thought Kelsey would be thrilled to have help every day, but she just shifted in her chair and looked uncomfortable. “Isn’t that an awfully long drive?”
“Kind of, but I’d see more of Katie.”
“Yeah.”
Sarah wondered if Kelsey was already getting a headache. She was frowning as she shoved the basket of toys under the coffee table with one foot.
“What else is wrong?”
“Nothing,” Sarah said.
Kelsey used two fingers to point from her eyes to Sarah’s and back again. “Big sister radar, remember? It’s a man, isn’t it?” She closed her eyes in mock concentration. “I see a tall, dark asshole in your future…”
“He’s got brown hair.” Sarah wanted to kick herself the moment she said it. She and her sister had always competed in the Golden Girl Sweepstakes to see which of them could live the most perfect, enviable life. Kelsey had dropped out of the race when Mike left, but Sarah was still competing, almost subconsciously. Admitting to a relationship—no, not a relationship, a
fling
—with the kind of cowboy she’d always scorned would be like throwing the game.
“So who is he? What happened?”
“Nobody.” Sarah put her hands up, palms out, to stop the onslaught of questions. “Nothing.”
Kelsey gave her a suspicious look, then slumped. “Well, it’s about time you had some fun. I just wish you’d tell me about it so I could live vicariously, that’s all.”
“Nothing to tell.” Sarah set the puppy on the floor and stood up, brushing imaginary crumbs from her dress. As she bent forward, her necklace swung forward and almost hit her in the face.
“What’s that?” Kelsey reached over and took the charm between her fingers. “Oh, Sarah, a little horse. Are you going to start riding again?”
“No.” The vehemence of her denial surprised her, and it made Kelsey take a step back.
“Sorry, I just—it was your thing, you know? You loved it so. And just because things didn’t work out back then doesn’t mean you can’t ride anymore.”
“I can’t,” Sarah said. “Trust me, it’s not going to happen.”
“Okay.” Kelsey winced and raised a hand to her forehead. “Oh, shit.”
“It’s starting?”
Kelsey closed her eyes tight and clutched her stomach. “Yeah.”
“Go lie down, hon. Try to get some sleep. I’m here.”
“Okay.” Kelsey gave her a weak smile. “What time do you have to leave in the morning?”
“Early. Like seven. But if Katie’s up, I’ll give her breakfast.”
“Okay.” Kelsey stood, her shoulders hunched against the pain. “So, on Saturday…”
Sarah knew what was coming, and she could feel a headache of her own coming on. They’d had this conversation before.
“What about it?”
“Maybe you could take Katie to town. Some of the other moms in the PTO go to the playground in the afternoon.”
“Like who?”
Kelsey listed a couple of girls they’d gone to school with who were grown now with kids of their own.
“I don’t think so,” Sarah said. “We can play here.”
“Sarah, you have to go to town sometime. You can’t just hide out here. Especially if you’re moving back.”
“Why? They won’t have anything to say to me. I couldn’t get out of this town fast enough, and people here couldn’t wait to kick me in the butt on my way out.”
“That’s not true, Sarah.”
“Then why didn’t anybody talk to me after Roy died? Why did every room go quiet when I walked in? Why didn’t one single person offer to help us?”
Kelsey stomped her foot. “Because you scared them all away!”
“I was a fifteen-year-old kid. How scary is that?”
“Pretty damn scary when it’s you, Sarah. It was like you had your own personal thundercloud you carried around with you. Nobody knew what to say to you. You never reached out. Never gave anybody a chance.”
“A chance to what? To come watch our mother drink herself to death? To see how our lives were falling apart? Why? So they could gossip about us again, the way they did before Roy came along and made us respectable?”
“So they could help.”
“I didn’t need their kind of help.”
Kelsey stood in the door to the hallway looking defeated. “You’re just making it worse, you know. Everybody sees your car here. They’re all wondering why you don’t come say hello.”
“Well, they can keep on wondering.” Sarah sighed. “I’ll be late tomorrow, okay? I have a lot to wrap up.”
“You work too hard,” Kelsey said.
“Look who’s talking. Taking care of a three-year-old and working full-time is a lot harder.” Sarah smiled, trying to break the tension. “Besides, I love my job.”
As she said it, a bolt of dread shot through her and she thought she might get a migraine herself. She used to love her job. But with all that had happened that night, she was hardly looking forward to her next day at the Carrigan Corporation.
“I figured it out,” Eric said.
Sarah perched in the chair in front of his desk in her usual posture, straight up, knees slanted to one side, hands clasped in her lap. She was doing her best to look poised, but deep down her stomach clenched with dread. Eric hadn’t mentioned Gloria yet. He hadn’t mentioned the revelation that Sarah, his “Vassar girl,” had grown up “dirt poor.” He hadn’t asked her how things had gone with Lane, or mentioned the fact that she’d seen him naked scampering down the hall in her seedy, poorly furnished apartment.
She’d been hoping he was embarrassed. Maybe the two of them could just silently agree to pretend the night had never happened. Maybe if she kept her polished, professional mask on, he’d follow suit.
But judging from the got-it-going-on grin on his face and the theatrical pause she was suffering through, things were about to change.
They were certainly changing for Sarah. She’d packed the rest of her belongings into the Malibu on her lunch hour, while Gloria was working. Gloria was fun, Gloria was sweet, but Gloria was a lousy roommate. Sarah had overlooked the late hours, the loud music, and the frequent male visitors—but she couldn’t overlook the business with Eric. She simply couldn’t trust Gloria, and there was no room in her life for people she couldn’t trust.
Eric broke into her thoughts, leaning back in his chair. “We need to talk about Two Shot.” He paused, his gaze intensifying. “I think it’s the key to everything.”
Oh, shit.
He was so right. Two Shot
was
the key to everything. Her evasions. Her many, many sins of omission. Her lies.
Well, not exactly
lies.
She’d never told Eric where she was from. She’d just let him believe her life had begun at Vassar. It was as it she’d been born into the world at the age of twenty-five with a master’s degree instead of an umbilical cord.
She’d started hiding her roots soon after she’d started college. She’d listened to her new classmates describing their summers in the Hamptons and winters in Gstaad, and she’d launched into a narrative about tipping cows and John Deere joyrides that earned her raised eyebrows rather than laughter. When the girls edged away almost imperceptibly, she’d realized fitting in would be a challenge. So she’d studied the rich girls harder than she’d studied Econ 101, memorizing the effortless way they walked, copying the subtle simplicity of their clothes, imitating the faint note of ennui in their voices. By her second semester, she’d changed from a wide-eyed country girl into an upper-crust sophisticate.
But now she’d been busted.
“Yes, it’s all about Two Shot.” Eric picked up a gold-plated Mont Blanc pen and tapped it on the desk, first one end, then the other. “Lane really cares about that town, and he’s afraid the drilling operation will change it.” He set the pen on the desk and rolled it right, then left. “I don’t know why—it’s not much of a town. Just a crossroads, really.”
She nodded.
“Your friend said you’d lived in a trailer.”
Here it came. She was going to get fired. “Yes, I did. For a while.”
“Was it in a small town?”
She nodded, unable to speak past the lump forming in her throat. He was toying with her, sure as he was toying with the pen. Or did he really not know about her connection with Two Shot?
“I think you’ll be just the right person to solve the problem.”
She lifted her head, blinking. “Really?”
“Sure.” He set down the pen. “Lane seems to think our workers will come into town and shoot up the place like outlaws in a Sergio Leone movie.” He leaned toward her, steepling his fingers. “You and I both know that’s not true. We’re going to bring money into that town. Money, jobs—prosperity. And I suspect the people of Two Shot will welcome that kind of change.”
His intent expression darkened and his heavy brows arrowed down. She could almost hear distant thunder. “Besides, it’s not up to Lane to decide what should happen. It’s up to the people. And that’s where you come in.”
“Really?” she said again.
She needed to shut up and listen. She sounded like an idiot.
Eric didn’t seem to notice. “Lane can’t turn up on TV talking trash about the drilling if the whole town wants it to happen, right? So you’ll go to Two Shot and talk to everybody who counts—the mayor, the police chief. But in addition, you’ll talk to the regular folks. Ranchers, waitresses, hairdressers—everybody.”
Could the world come up with a worse nightmare to impose on her? Talking to everyone in town would definitely lead to some one-way conversations, because she doubted anyone in town was speaking to her.
“No. I—I can’t.”
“It’s okay. You won’t be missing all that much at the office. This is so much more important.”
He’d completely misinterpreted her refusal. Eric thought he knew her, she realized. He thought she was simply a dedicated worker who didn’t want to take a business trip because she was worried about falling behind on other projects. He had no clue she was a liar and a fake.
“There’s a little diner there. Suze’s.” He settled back in his chair. “Lane reminded me of it, said it’s still there. It might be a good place to start spreading the word about what Carrigan can do for the town. Get people talking about how many jobs it’ll create, how much money it’ll bring in. See if there’s a pet project—a library, a meeting hall, something like that—and show how we can make it happen. Maybe a shooting range, or a motocross track. That’s what those people like, right?”
He looked at her expectantly. Much as she wanted to call him out on his stereotyping of small-town people, she felt like she had no room to take risks, no room to run. She’d been a little worried about the project’s proximity to Two Shot, but she’d expected to work behind the scenes, lobbying the legislature, attending meetings. She hadn’t expected to have to go right into town and talk to the people she’d left behind all those years ago.
“I don’t know…”
“It’ll work,” Eric insisted. “All you have to do is your job.” He fished a set of keys out of his pocket and slid them across the desk. “I even arranged a place for you to stay so you won’t have to make that drive. Go on home and pack your bags.”
She felt panic rising in her chest. “Where do you want me to stay?”
“There’s an old cabin at the ranch. I think you’ll find it quite comfortable.”
Her eyes widened. “Doesn’t it belong to Lane?”
“It’s on a separate plot of land, across the creek. Don’t worry, you won’t be sharing a room with him or anything.”
No, but she might end up sharing a bed with Lane again if she got within a stone’s throw of him. His energy, his charisma—hell, maybe it was just his muscles. Or his kindness. Whatever it was, she was helpless to fight it.
“Don’t worry,” Eric said. “It’s fully renovated into a top-notch guest house. You’ll have your own kitchen, and there’s a sitting room and a loft bedroom. It hasn’t been used much since we were in high school, so I called Lane’s foreman and asked him to send somebody over to clean.”
“You used it in high school?”
He smiled nostalgically. “Lane and I used to call it the Love Nest.”
***
Lane hunched over his laptop at the tiny desk wedged below the microwave in his trailer, reading the latest PRCA statistics. He was near the top of the pack in bull riding, but there were a couple of young guys pretty close on his heels.
He sighed. Both guys were talented riders, but neither was a true cowboy. One was from New York City, of all places. The kid didn’t know a damn thing about ranching and probably couldn’t ride a horse. He’d trained on machines in schools designed just for bull riders.
Now the kid was a star on the Professional Bull Riders tour, taking home purses that made the National Finals prizes look like chump change. Lane didn’t begrudge him the money, but the PBR pulled the good bulls away from the small-town rodeos Lane loved.
And no real rancher ever needed to ride a bull. Lane had started rodeoing because he loved the way it preserved traditional ranch skills, so maybe he should go back to bronc riding. He’d quit the bareback event because it was too hard on his body; even the roughest bull ride didn’t dish out as bad a beating as the crack-the-whip action a good bronc dealt out.
But saddle bronc was a possibility. The purses weren’t as big as bull riding prizes, but it was the event that required the most artistry on the part of the cowboy. Riding a bull was about flair, skill, and confidence. Riding a saddle bronc was about balance, spurring, and finesse. Cowboys still had to make the buzzer, but they had to do it with grace. A great bronc ride was beautiful, pure poetry.
Beautiful. Pure poetry
. His mind’s eye flashed to Sarah lying in the bed of his truck, dressed only in shadows and moonlight. Now
that
was poetry. He allowed himself a moment to sit back, close his eyes, remember. Dangerous stuff—more dangerous than any rodeo bull.
Usually, women weren’t a problem for him. Their expectations of a rodeo cowboy were low on the romance side, and though a few women had tried to snag a piece of the Carrigan fortune, not one had succeeded. He loved ’em and left ’em, and nobody was surprised—least of all the women.
But Sarah was turning things around. She’d left him standing in the alley with his hat in his hand—and he couldn’t blame her. After all his talk about understanding her real self, he’d practically accused her of sleeping with his brother. Deep down, he knew that was something she would never, ever do.
But why had Eric been there? The question was driving him crazy.
He turned back to the screen, telling himself it didn’t matter. By this time tomorrow, he’d be on the back of a bull in Amarillo. He wouldn’t be thinking about Sarah and how he’d blown the one relationship he’d ever hoped would last. He’d be thinking about hanging on. Surviving.
Maybe he and Sarah had more in common than he’d thought.
“She said she’d take survival,” he told Willie, who was curled up at his feet. “Guess that’s about all we’ve got too.”
He tapped the mouse pad, bringing the screen to life. He had mail—including a reminder that draws for Amarillo were up on the Professional Rodeo Cowboy’s Association website. Clicking into the list, he grinned. Rusty Nail. The big brindled animal could spin like a tornado and jump like a jackrabbit—all at the same time. He was a high-score bull, the kind a cowboy wanted to draw. Lane had ridden him to a buckle in Cheyenne last year, and he was willing to bet he could do it again.
His cell phone jumped to life, jitterbugging across the table and falling to the floor. He stared down at the screen.
Eric
. He clicked the green “go” button and grunted a hello.
“Hey, Lane.”
“Hey.”
“Thought I’d give you a warning. There’s a hurricane headed your way.”
“What?”
Eric chuckled. He sounded smug, like he’d won an argument or proved what a yahoo Lane was somehow. Too many of their verbal battles had ended with that chuckle.
“Hurricane Sarah’s coming to Two Shot. I thought I’d better let you know, since she’ll be staying at the Love Nest.”
The light seemed to fuzz and blur in Lane’s head, and his skin prickled despite the heat. Eric had Sarah at the Love Nest? The cabin had been a nest all right, though the “love” part wasn’t quite accurate. He and his brother had played host to a number of girls there during their adolescent Two Shot vacations. They should have called it the Lust Nest.
“Tell me she’s on company business.”
Eric snorted. “Sarah’s always on business. She’s probably on business when she’s—well, never mind.” The smile came back into his tone. “You probably know all about that.”
Lane wanted to make a smart remark, some kind of rude comment, but he couldn’t speak. Eric must have caught the tension, because his voice sounded wary when he asked, “What’s the matter?”
“I saw your car.”
“Yeah, good.” Eric sounded positively smug. “And you were struck with envy, right? Don’t blame you, driving around in the rattletrap Dodge. You ought to get yourself something better.”
“No, I mean I saw it at Sarah’s.”
“What, last night? Shit, you weren’t with her when she got home, were you?” He laughed uneasily. “Now that was embarrassing. I know Gloria’s hardly the kind of girl I ought to go for, but I couldn’t help myself. Well, actually, I could
help
myself
. And I did.”
“Gloria?”
“Yeah. You know, the blonde. Sarah’s roommate.”
“Sarah’s
roommate.
” Suddenly, everything was sharp and clear in Lane’s mind. “It’s her apartment too.”
“Yeah, and let me tell you, there’s not a surface in there we didn’t—never mind. I should be ashamed of myself, right?”
Lane felt suddenly giddy with relief. “Why? Gloria’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Well, she’s hardly my type. I don’t know why I always end up with the wrong kind of woman.”
“Maybe because they
are
your type,” Lane said. He remembered the blonde doing her rodeo rider imitation and smiled. “I think she’s just what you need. Step outside your comfort zone and live a little, why don’t you?”
“I suspect that with Gloria I’d be living a lot.”
“And it would be about time.”
Eric paused. “Oh. I get it.”
“What?”
“You thought I was with Sarah.” Eric sounded more appalled than amused.
“No, I…”
“You did. And then I tell you she’s at the Love Nest.” He chortled. “Had you going, bro.”
“So she’s there because…”
“She’s working on something.”
Lane slapped the desktop and Willie jumped up, giving him an irate look before curling up again a few feet away.
“So you’re not only planning to drill on the ranch, you’re putting up employees there without even asking. I thought we had a deal, Eric. The ranch is mine. The company’s yours. Maybe I ought to come over there and take over your office. See how you like it.”
“The Love Nest isn’t yours. It’s not on the ranch.”
“It figures you’d find a technicality. What’s she doing—taking measurements? Plotting out a trailer park for the yahoos you’re going to bring in to work the wells?”