One Fine Cowboy (25 page)

She watched Nate make his way down the hill, his hands in his pockets, his shoulders slumped. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she speed-dialed home.

“Mom?” she said. She took a deep breath. “I might be changing The Plan.”

Her mother lit into her just like she’d expected, but Charlie talked over the protests. “Now wait. I still end up meeting the same goal. I just get there different. Listen, Mom.”

Her mother was still protesting.

Charlie held the phone an inch from her mouth and hollered.

“
Listen!
”

“All right.”

Charlie described Nate’s proposition, and for once, her mother listened without interrupting, without objecting. “I’d be doing the kind of work we talked about, Mom,” she said. “Helping people. Kids
and
animals. It’s perfect.”

“But your degree. Oh, Charlie, you’re almost there. Don’t let it go.”

“Mom, I have to write a few papers. Maybe teach one more class. Then I have to do my practicum, and this is perfect.”

As she said it, she knew it would work. The program would be a perfect practicum. She could interview the kids at the start, note their progress, then assess the therapeutic outcome at the end.

Her advisor would say yes. She was sure of it.

She didn’t have to give up one dream for another. She could have them both.

“It’s perfect, Mom. It’s really what I want to do.”

Dead air thrummed through the line, and Charlie knew her mother was reading the bullshit-ometer, that secret device known only to mothers.

Apparently it still worked, even long-distance. Mona Banks cleared her throat in a no-nonsense way that didn’t bode well for the rest of the conversation.

“Charlie, this is about a man, isn’t it?”

Charlie clenched her fist and punched it into her thigh.
Busted
.

“He’s part of it.” She hated the way her voice came out—surly and defensive, like a little girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

“Can you trust him?”

Charlie thought back, remembering everything that had happened. “Yes,” she said. “He’s never lied to me. Not even when it might have been a smart thing to do.”

“Well, that’s good.” Her mother lapsed into silence and Charlie waited for the verdict. She didn’t let her mother run her life, but she knew this deviation from their shared goal would hurt. The Plan had been a bond between them—maybe not a particularly healthy one, since Mona Banks was clearly living vicariously through her daughter’s success, but it was essential to both of them. They’d been a team for so long—a mother/daughter partnership that faced the world united.

“Have you committed to this yet?” her mom asked. “Signed anything?”

“Of course not. I’m just thinking about it.”

“Well, think hard,” her mother said. “I understand why you want to do it. It does sound like good work.” She sighed. “It sounds like the kind of thing I would have liked to do. Helping kids like that…”

Charlie’s heart ached for her mom. “Well, maybe if I do it, you could come out and visit, or even help. It’s beautiful here, and I’d be making money—not a lot at first, but I wouldn’t have any expenses. Maybe I could send you a ticket.”

“Maybe.” Her mother sounded wistful for a moment, but she cleared her throat and got back to business. “But don’t let that influence your decision, honey. Be rational. Make sure it’s what you really want.”

“Okay, Mom.”

“And don’t sleep with him.”

Charlie didn’t answer.

“Oh, honey.” The long sad sigh of a martyred mother whispered over the miles. “It’s too late, isn’t it? Just be careful. Use protection.”

Charlie rolled her eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me. Even smart women screw up.”

Charlie laughed. “How’d you know I rolled my eyes? I’m two thousand miles away.”

“I know you. And I love you.”

“I love you too,” Charlie said. “I’ll call you when I decide, okay? And don’t worry. I’m not stupid.”

“No,” her mother said. “I know you’re not stupid. You’re just human.”

Charlie said good-bye and clicked the phone shut, then called her voice mail. She had three unheard messages. Two from her advisor, and one from someone with a Wyoming number.

Skipping over the first two, she listened to the Wyoming message. It was Brock, from the grocery store. He’d gotten in more veggie burgers.

Hallelujah,
she thought. Between that and the salad, she and Phaedra would be set.

She just needed to run into town. She could stop at the garage too. Maybe Ray could tighten up the bolts on her car and fix her suitcase. Whether she stayed or not, she’d need it to go back and tie up loose ends.

Besides, stopping at Ray’s would give her time to think. Time on her own, away from the ranch. Away from Nate, where she could think clearly.

She slid the phone in her pocket and stared down at the ranch. She pictured herself sitting on this bench, surrounded by teenagers struggling to surface from various emotional crises. She’d draw them out, steer them toward solutions, teach them to tackle problems with logic, determination, and optimism. She pictured Nate, leading the kids on trail rides, with herself and Trouble bringing up the rear to make sure no one fell behind. She’d watch them as they rode, assess their body language and identify the ones that were hurting, the ones whose self-esteem needed a boost.

She pictured herself lying naked in bed with Nate on a hot summer night while a sage-infused breeze whispered through the window, cooling their flushed skin. In winter, she’d snuggle up to him while the wind whipped around the ranch house and poked icy fingers through the gaps in the doors and windows.

Something rustled at the bottom of the hill, interrupting her thoughts. Standing up, she craned her neck to see Taylor making his way up the winding path.

“How’s it going?” he asked.

“Good.” Charlie glanced down at the barn and outbuildings, wondering where Nate was. “Really good.”

“Nate must have told you about my idea,” he said.

“What idea?”

“About the kids. The clinics.” He sat down beside her. “You know Nate would never ask for help. But I’ve been looking for something like this—something meaningful to do with my money.”

“Your money?” Charlie felt the elation inside her slow and stop dead. “What are you talking about?”

“The ranch,” Taylor said. “I offered to stake Nate—partner up with him—if he’d open it up to kids like Phaedra. Didn’t he tell you about it?”

“Noooo,” she said slowly. “Not really. He told me a little.”

Taylor eased down beside her with a sigh. “Sandi’s trying to get him to sell the ranch. Calling in a lawyer, says she should get half. But I figure she’ll go for a settlement if it’s big enough. So if I invested…”

She stared straight ahead and intoned the words, “…then Nate could keep the ranch.”

Taylor nodded. “Right. And I really think a riding camp for troubled kids would be a winner of a business plan.”

Charlie nodded.

“And it would be perfect for you. You love it here, right? And with your psych degree, you’d give the place credibility. Combine that with my endorsement—we’d do great.” He paused, then eyed her with concern. “You’re going to do it, right?”

“I don’t know.

“I sure hope so.” His tone was casual, but his posture seemed tense. “I don’t know how we’d do it without you.”

“Did you tell Nate that?”

“Sure.” Taylor nodded eagerly. “Without you, we’ve just got a horse trainer and a celebrity. It’s the psych expert that would make it work.”

“So if I don’t stay, you won’t do it?”

Taylor shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe not.”

Charlie gripped the edge of the bench, hanging on for dear life as her emotions spun and crashed, dropping the bottom out of her brand-new future. Taylor had offered Nate money—but only if he could get her to stay.

So did he really want her for herself?

Of course he did. He’d told her he loved her, and coming from a man who barely spoke, that was huge. Surely he meant it.

Or was she just believing what she wanted to believe?

She needed to think this through, and she needed to do it somewhere else—somewhere far from the ranch, where Nate wasn’t always around, fueling her fantasies.

She headed for the house, breathing a sigh of relief when she found the bunkhouse empty. Grabbing her suitcase, she headed for the car. She’d stop at Ray’s first and get that broken wheel fixed. Then the grocery store, to pick up those veggie burgers.

By the time that was done, maybe she’d be able to make a rational decision.

Nate was just finishing up in the barn, closing the door behind him, when Charlie crossed the barnyard. She was carrying her suitcase.

Her suitcase. Was she leaving? His heart started thumping like a step-dancer on speed. She couldn’t leave. She couldn’t. They fit together. They were made for each other. And she’d be helping kids and horses, fulfilling all her dreams—it was perfect.
They
were perfect.

“Did you decide?” he asked. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer.

“Nate, I don’t know,” she said, shoving the suitcase into the backseat of her car. “I just don’t know, okay?”

He grabbed her arm and spun her toward him, making her stumble and fall against him. He loved her. He needed her. He’d told her, but maybe that wasn’t enough. Maybe he needed to show her. Trapping her in a fierce embrace, he crushed his mouth to hers and set his instincts free.

She was wrong. It would work. They’d proved it that night, and now they were proving it again. She was kissing him back, devouring him as fiercely as he was consuming her.

Then she stiffened and pushed him away, twisting in his arms and shooting him a furious glare. He’d expected to see heat in her eyes, but a heat that answered his—not one that repelled it.

“Nate, no,” she said. “No. I have to go.”

***

Nate staggered to the kitchen and slumped into a chair, resting his head in his hands. He was still sitting that way when Taylor walked in ten minutes later. The actor pulled out a chair and sat down.

“What’s got your girlfriend riled up?” he asked.

“What girlfriend?” Nate asked bitterly.

“The one that just peeled out of the driveway.”

Nate shrugged.

“You have a little trouble with this kind of thing, don’t you?” Taylor said, grinning.

Nate sat back down and shook his head, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands hanging limply between his legs. “You might say that,” he said. He looked over at Taylor, who was still grinning. “Glad you find the whole thing so damned entertaining.”

“I’m telling you, this place is better than
One Life to Live
,” Taylor said. “You want some help planning out the next scene in your soap opera?”

“I’d appreciate it,” Nate said. “I sure as hell don’t know what to do myself.”

“You love her?”

Nate shrugged again.

“Well, do you?”

Nate nodded.

“Let’s use our words,” Taylor said in the same tone he might use with a toddler.

“Yes,” Nate mumbled.

“So what do you want to do?”

Nate gave him a scornful glance. “Keep her from leaving, of course. But it’s a little late for that.”

“No, I mean what do you want to do, long term? Where do you see this relationship five, ten years down the road?”

Nate paused—not because he didn’t have an answer perched on the tip of his tongue, itching to jump off and make itself known. He just wasn’t sure he wanted to confide in the man who held his future in his hands. If Taylor knew what an emotional wreck he was, he might change his mind about investing in the ranch.

Right. Because up until now, Nate’s behavior had been so professional. Hell, he’d already screwed things up so badly, he might as well go for broke. He should be out there in the arena, helping Taylor and Doris tame their horses. Instead, they were in here helping him tame his screwed-up life.

“So what do you want to do?” Taylor repeated.

“What I want to do is marry her,” Nate said. “But where do I see it long term? Over. I mean, she’s gone.”

Taylor sighed. “You dumbass,” he said. “She’s only gone if you let her go. Did you tell her you want to marry her?”

“I haven’t gotten that far yet,” Nate said. “But she knows. She knows I want to—to be with her forever, and all that.”

“Does she?”

“Well, yeah. I think so.”

“You think so?” Taylor looked at Nate like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Did you tell her?”

Nate shifted in his chair. “Well, not really. But I—I kind of showed her.”

Taylor rolled his eyes and sighed. “Yeah, I’ll bet you did. Women like to be told, though, okay? How ’bout you give that a try? The girl can’t read your mind, you know.” He laughed. “Not even when you’re naked.”

Nate shook his head. “You don’t get it. She’s gone, suitcase and all. I’ll never see her again. I don’t even know where she lives. Sandi has all the registration forms, and cashed all the checks. And she’s not liable to give me Charlie’s number.” He splayed his hands helplessly. “She’s gone.”

“You know where she goes to school, right?” Taylor asked. “There’s this thing called the Internet, you know. Great for finding people.”

Nate nodded. Taylor was right. He could track Charlie down, try again. But what could he say that he hadn’t already told her?

“I don’t know how to do this, Taylor. I don’t know what to say,” Nate said. “And Charlie needs—more than some women. Not that she needs anything. She’s fine on her own—so
complete
, you know? But still, she’s delicate.” He looked down at his hands. “She’s been hurt. Her dad…” He stopped. Charlie wouldn’t want her secrets spilled, not even to Taylor.

“Sounds like you’ve got it figured out. What you need is a script.”

Taylor grabbed a notebook off the end table in the living room, along with a ballpoint pen, and sat down across from Nate. Flipping open the notebook, he clicked the pen and gave Nate a questioning look.

“Okay. What do you want to say?”

Nate ducked his head and mumbled.

“What? Speak up, son.”

“That I love her. That I want to marry her,” Nate said. He still couldn’t meet Taylor’s eyes. This was embarrassing, that’s what it was.

“Okay. That’s a good start, but we need more. How much do you love her?”

“A lot. A—a whole lot.”

Taylor rolled his eyes. “That’s not going to cut it,” he said. “You need to be more original. Speak from the heart.”

Nate shifted in the chair, wishing he hadn’t let this business start. “My heart doesn’t have much to say, that’s all.” He shrugged. “It says I love her. A lot.”

Phaedra emerged from the bathroom, along with a cloud of steam. She was dressed in a black silk bathrobe with a red-eyed bat embroidered on the lapel. A towel was wrapped around her hair like a turban.

“Hey,” she said. “Sorry, the shower’s nicer in here. Dad said you wouldn’t mind.”

Nate shrugged.

“And it’s lucky I’m here, because I’m good at this stuff. My teachers all say I should be a writer. So.” She pulled out a chair and sat down, folding her hands on the table and leaning earnestly toward Nate. “Tell me what else you love.”

“What?” Nate couldn’t believe this misfit teenager thought she could help him.

“What else do you love?”

“Sam,” he said. He didn’t even have to think about that one.

“Okay, but you can’t compare your love for Charlie to how you feel about your daughter,” Phaedra said. “That would be ooky. What else do you love?”

Nate thought a moment. “The ranch.”

“Okay.” Phaedra pulled the notebook away from her father and wrote down, “The ranch.” She drew a bulbous heart above it, then looked back up at Nate. “What about it?” She slashed a line through the heart and tipped it with an arrowhead, then sketched feathers onto the other end.

He shrugged.

“You are hopeless,” Phaedra said. “What’s the best thing about it?”

“Sunrise,” Nate said. He didn’t have to even think about that one.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” He looked off across the kitchen, avoiding her gaze, and it was almost like he could see the peachy sky at sunrise reflected on the wall. “It’s like, first one bird sings, and then all the others join in, and the song gets bigger and bigger, and louder and louder. And it’s like they’re all celebrating that the sun came up again, like it’s some kind of miracle, and it’s a new day, and everything’s—I don’t know—fresh.” He blushed. That sounded dumb, coming from a cowboy. More like some sissy poet guy or something.

“Okay. That’s good.” Phaedra tapped the pen, staring down at the notebook, then started writing. “How ’bout this?” She spoke slowly as she wrote. “When I see you, it’s like the sunrise—like when the birds start singing, and everything’s new, and no matter what happened the day before, you know you’re going to get a fresh start. You’re my fresh start, my rising sun, and I want to wake up to you every day.”

“That’s kind of corny,” Nate said.

“No shit,” Phaedra said. “It’s a love letter, not a literary masterpiece. And besides, it has to sound like you—and frankly, you’re kind of a corny guy.”

Taylor laughed.

“Well, he is—always mooning around after Charlie like a lost puppy or something. It’s pathetic.”

“Thanks,” Nate said.

Phaedra looked down at the notebook. “This is a good start,” she said. “I’m going to go back to the bunkhouse and work on it a while. Maybe Doris has some ideas.”

Nate rolled his eyes.

“Hey, she’s got a lot of life experience,” Phaedra says. “And we should use all our resources.”

“I’ve got a better idea,” Taylor said, pushing his chair back. “How ’bout we go for a ride?”

Phaedra clutched the notebook to her chest, shaking her head. “I want to work on this.”

“Okay.” He turned to Nate. “You and me, bud. Let’s saddle up and take off for a while.”

“But the clinic…” Nate began.

“Forget the clinic. You need a break,” Taylor said. “Besides, we’re partners now. And a ride’ll do you good.”

Nate nodded, picking up his hat and tipping it onto his head. A ride would do him good.

It was the one thing he was still sure of. He could definitely ride a horse.