Love Somebody Like You (10 page)

Today, he wouldn't take the time to make a healthy breakfast. Instead, between sips of strong black coffee, he slathered a multigrain bagel with cream cheese and strawberry jam. He slipped into the annoying sling and, with the bagel in his cuffed hand and the mug in his good one, went to visit Sunshine Song and Moon Song.

Sally was already in the birthing paddock, dipping the foal's umbilical stump in antiseptic solution while Sunshine Song watched protectively. When Sally finished, she stroked the colt's shiny black neck. Then, seeing Ben, she came over, smiling. “All's well. Moon's peeing and he passed the meconium.”

“That's great.” Had to love the horse world, where topics like a foal's first dump were cheerful breakfast conversation. Speaking of which. “You had breakfast?”

She shook her head. “Not yet.”

He set his coffee mug on a fence post and held out the bagel. “Want to share?”

“Thanks, but I'll go get some cereal now that I know these two are okay.”

“I'm gonna hang out here, have my bagel and coffee, then I'll get to work.”

“If you can tear yourself away,” she teased.

As pretty a sight as the mare and foal were, the sparkling emerald glints in Sally's eyes and the smile on her face were even more addictive.

After she'd gone, he ate breakfast, said good morning to Chaunce, and then went into the barn and readied horses for a couple of early riders.

The actions and the scents—horse, straw, hay, manure, leather—were familiar. Growing up on a ranch, he was used to the routine involved in caring for animals. At Ryland Riding, some tasks were the same, some different, but it was easy to slip into the flow of it. Life in the country had a rhythm governed by dawn and dusk, by seasons, by cycles of animals and crops. The work was physically demanding, occasionally mentally challenging, and always satisfying. For him. His sister, older than him by ten years, had been bored to tears and had moved to the city.

When Ben had chosen rodeo, or it had chosen him, he'd figured that one day he'd come full circle, back to the ranch where he'd grown up. Now, though he understood why his parents had sold it, their decision left him feeling like he didn't have a home base. Nothing more than a spare bedroom in his parents' house in Calgary, or the bunkhouse at the horse trainer's where he worked in the off season. Strange how a guy who spent most of his life on the road could miss having a home base.

Chapter Eight

Midmorning, Sally had just turned Campion out in the paddock after the farrier's visit. Her cell rang as she walked back to the barn. “Ryland Riding,” she answered.

“Hey, you,” a warm male voice said.

“Dave! You're back.” How wonderful to hear that familiar voice. She'd missed him and Cassidy in the month they'd been on their honeymoon.

“Yes, we got back on Sunday. Sorry I didn't call earlier, but there was so much to catch up on at the inn.”

“I bet.” Dave had spent years restoring the historic Wild Rose Inn, and had done a fabulous job. “But Madisun handled things okay?” Cassidy, Dave's brand-new wife, shared the assistant manager position with Madisun Joe and had persuaded Dave to leave the younger woman in charge.

“Madisun did great. It was good for both of us, me learning to delegate and her developing more confidence.”

A cheeky female voice said, in the background, “Told you so.”

Sally smiled. “Say hi to Cassidy.”

Dave did, and his wife called, “Hi to you too, Sally.”

Sally went into the office. “Did you have a wonderful honeymoon? How was Italy?” she asked Dave as she sank down on the sofa in the same spot where she'd sat last night.

“Fantastic. Next time we see you, we'll tell you all about it.”

“How was Cassidy's health?” She'd been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis last year.

“Terrific. A couple of pseudo-exacerbations when we had unavoidably long days, but no new attacks and mostly she was pretty symptom-free.”

Cassidy's voice came again. “Even if I did try his patience more than once.”

Sally smiled. Dave was superorganized. Cassidy was a free spirit and had struggled against the structure imposed by her disease: a treatment plan, lots of rest, a regular exercise regimen, and so on. “You two are good for each other.”

“That's for sure,” Dave said. “Now what's this I hear about Ryland Riding? Corrie left, and you have some new guy, Ben, who's an old friend?”

She frowned. “How did you know that?” Not that it was a secret, but she hated people gossiping about her.

“Sally, it's a small town.”

“Which I'm not a part of,” she reminded him.

“Doesn't stop the rumor mill. I heard about Ben from, let's see, Terry at the Gold Pan diner, Madeleine at the bank, and Tiffany Knight who was in for lunch and said her son Marty was excited to meet a rodeo star.”

And Ben had been around for all of two days. Sally shook her head. This was why Pete had been so adamant about keeping their lives private. “Why were they telling you?” she asked grumpily.

“They know we're friends. So what's the story, Sally? Who is this guy?”

“I told you I used to barrel race, right? Ben was riding saddle broncs. He's still competing.” Not wanting to get into family stuff, she didn't mention her sister. “He was at the Williams Lake Stampede and Rodeo and came by to say hi. He's injured and needs time to heal. Rather than drive himself and his horse back to Alberta, he's helping me out in exchange for having a place to park his trailer, look after his horse, and train. We're friends, Dave. That's it.”

Friends.
The word popped out, a word she had previously only applied to Dave, Cassidy, and Dave's daughter, Robin. Yet it felt like the right one to describe Ben. The fact that he stirred up her blood in a disconcerting way . . . well, that was a completely separate and ridiculous thing she'd never admit to.

“I kind of figured,” Dave said. “I know how you felt about Pete.”

No, he didn't. She had let him believe that Pete had been the love of her life and that she'd never get over his loss. No one knew the truth about her life with Pete, nor about the way he'd died.

“You and Ben should come for dinner,” Dave said.

“Oh! Thanks, but, Dave, you know I don't like going into town.” Besides, going out for dinner together was the kind of thing couples did, and she and Ben most definitely weren't a couple.

“I know you're shy around people. We'll have dinner at our place. You and Ben, Cassidy, Robin, and me.”

“I have lessons late in the afternoons, and horses to get ready for owners who're coming out to ride.”

“Not every day. Right?”

Not on Fridays and Sundays. She tried a different approach. “Ben's only here for a short time. I don't want to drag him into, uh . . . I mean, not that meeting you and your family would be . . . Look, Dave, I just don't see it working.”

“Give me that,” Cassidy said in the background and then, into the phone, “Sally?”

“Hi, Cassidy. Welcome back.”

“Thanks. As for dinner, Dave's protective instinct has kicked in and he wants to check Ben out.”

Of course. Sally should have known it was more than a casual dinner invitation.

Cassidy went on. “You know he won't back down when he gets like this. You might as well stop arguing. Besides, I'm dying to tell you about Italy. What nights work for you?”

Sally had been outmaneuvered, and she didn't want to be rude to her friends. Reluctantly, she said, “I'd have to check with Ben, but the best days for me are Fridays and Sundays.”

“Perfect! This is Thursday, so let's do tomorrow night. What time can you come?”

“Tomorrow? Uh . . .” This was happening too fast for her to think. “Around six-thirty? Is that too late?”
Please say it's too late
.

“Great!” the other woman said. “I'll assume Ben's free unless you let me know otherwise. We're looking forward to meeting him.”

Sally slowly lowered the phone. A sound made her look up as Ben stepped into the office. Sweat beaded his dark forehead, and she had the absurd urge to reach up and brush back a few strands of damp black hair. She put the phone in her pocket and clasped her hands. “Did you hear that?”

“The last part. Sorry, but you had the office door open.”

“It's fine.” She bit her lip. “Friends have invited us for dinner. It seems people are talking about you. Us. That's . . . I hate the idea of people gossiping about me.”

“It's human nature. Especially in a small town. Besides, what's the big deal? You've got an old friend visiting, helping you out.”

“But what if they think . . .” She ducked her head, embarrassed.

“That we're more than friends?”

Keeping her head down, she nodded.

“Would that be so terrible?” he asked. “You're a widow. I'm single. Consenting adults; no one getting hurt.”

She tried not to flinch at the last word. When she
had
been getting hurt, she and Pete had kept their secret so well that no one suspected.

“You're allowed to date,” Ben said.

“I don't want to date,” she rejoined, lifting her head. She wished she hadn't, because his strong-boned face and warm chestnut eyes were too appealing, making her question the truth of her words.

No, that was crazy. She knew better than to fall for a man again—much less a rodeo star who was only in town for a couple of weeks. Besides, she had a business to run and a reputation to protect. Her private life, pitiful as it was, should remain private.

Ben's mouth had tightened. Probably, like everyone else, he figured she was still grieving Pete's death, and after three years ought to get over it. Fine. Let him think that.

“Anyhow,” she said, “we're invited for dinner, but we don't have to go. Dave can be a little overprotective, so it might be awkward.”

“Macho cowboy here,” Ben joked. “He doesn't scare me.”

The man had away of making her want to grin. “No, but—”

“Sally, don't overthink it. I'd like to meet your friends. What's the big deal?” A considering expression crossed his face. “Did you and this Dave guy ever date?”

“No! Never. It was never like that between us.” She'd never once felt attracted to Dave, and she was sure the same was true for him.

“Did Dave and Pete get along?”

“They never met. I only got to know Dave a couple of years ago.”

“Oh?” He paused. “Did you and Pete have friends in the area?”

Hah.
“We didn't have time to socialize.”

“Uh-huh.” He studied her for a long moment, and then he turned away. “I came in to check the schedule.” Gazing at the tacked-up chart, he said. “I see there's a couple of hours clear in the early afternoon. Seems like a good time to take Chaunce out.”

“Of course. Anytime.”

“Come with us.”

“I can't—”

“Bet there's a horse that could use a nice long trail ride.”

“You have the most annoying habit of not listening to me.” And yet he did it in such a different way from how Pete had. Ben teased rather than threatened.

“No need to, when I already know what you're going to say.”

She pressed her lips together. “How can you annoy me and amuse me at the same time?”

His grin flashed. “It's my special talent. So, how about it? Got a horse that needs exercise? Maybe the one that had the abscessed hoof?”

“Campion. Yes, he's been stall-bound for a while. The farrier just shooed him. He'd love to get out for a ride.” She cocked her head and studied Ben's face, frowning slightly.

“What?”

“How do you do that? Get me to agree to things?” Pete had done it, too. He'd got her to do things that he said made her a good wife. Like always having dinner on the table when he wanted it, and being cool and businesslike with male clients. Like having sex with him whenever he was in the mood, no matter how she felt. Like covering the bruises he inflicted under long-sleeved shirts and not wincing when she moved.

“By showing you that you really want to do them.”

Hmm. She did appreciate Ben's help, she enjoyed sharing meals with him, and maybe she did want an excuse to take Campion for a trail ride. But then in the beginning with Pete, she'd enjoyed making a home for them, and she'd been flattered by his possessiveness and his jealousy of other men. How could she trust her own judgment? “You confuse me,” she said softly.

“If it's any consolation, you confuse me, too.”

She hadn't the slightest idea what he meant by that, but wasn't going to ask.

 

 

Thursday afternoon, riding with Sally, Ben thought that a guy could get used to this. A pretty woman, good horses, fine weather. They trotted single file down a trail that followed a small, meandering river lined by cottonwoods, and then loped side by side across a rolling meadow. As they approached a bluff, a flock of grouse took off with a whir of wings.

Sally and Ben slowed their horses to a walk, and she gestured toward the bluff. “There's a spectacular view from the top.” The trail was a narrow switchback. She rode ahead of him, shifting forward in the saddle to take her weight off her horse's hind legs. Ben admired her slim back, curvy butt, and the tousled sun-gilded curls below the brim of her hat.

When they reached the top, they dismounted and walked to the edge. He filled his lungs with fresh, pine-scented air and said appreciatively, “We're not in Alberta anymore.” The scenery was more varied and lush than where he'd grown up. Here, the hay fields and range land were broken into an irregular patchwork by woods of hemlock, red cedar, and pine, by groves of cottonwood and aspen, by streams and small lakes, and by hills and craggy bluffs.

“Do you figure you'll end up in Alberta?” Sally asked.

He watched a pair of hawks lazily riding thermals. “I guess. My parents are in Calgary now. So's my sister and her family. I won't live in a city, but I'll probably try to set up something nearby.”

“Your own ranch or horse training business?”

“Maybe.” He glanced at her, where she stood a foot away from him, her hat shading her face. “I'd like to be my own boss. But it'll depend on whether I win enough and can save enough.” Maybe, years down the road, he'd achieve what Sally already had: owning a successful operation. But for now, rodeo was his life, and it was a good one.

“How long d'you plan on competing?”

“Haven't really thought about it. Could go another ten or so years, I guess.”

“That might be pushing your luck, at least when it comes to bronc riding.” She shot a pointed glance at his sling.

Injuries did add up. “Perhaps. But not with roping. Some guys ride into their forties.”

“You could go on the senior pro circuit.”

He grimaced. “Don't imagine I'll think of myself as a senior when I'm forty.”

“Keep falling off the broncs,” she teased, “and you'll be as crippled as an eighty-year-old by the time you're forty.”

“Now that's just mean.” Without thinking, he reached out with his good arm, tucked it around her, and pulled her close.

Her body tensed.

He bit back a curse and released her. “Time to head back and get the horses ready for your kids' lesson.”

She didn't say a word, just walked toward her bay gelding.

He sure would like to know what had happened to make Sally so jumpy. He'd like to beat up the guy who'd done this to her. Increasingly, he was coming to wonder if it might have been her husband. Little things like her not going to town, and her and Pete not having friends, were just too incongruous when Ben thought of the outgoing Sally he used to know.

Patience, he reminded himself. He had to win Sally's trust before she'd share the truth with him.