Love Somebody Like You (11 page)

As they rode back down the bluff, he asked her about her afternoon's students and, as she shared stories, she relaxed again.

When they arrived back at Ryland Riding, they fell into their routine. As Ben got to know the horses' names, and figured out what he could do within the limitations of his injury, he and Sally became a more efficient team.

They had the horses ready by the time the first students arrived. This was another group of little kids, and once everyone was assembled, Sally told them, “We have a new arrival. My mare Sunshine Song had a baby last night. It's a colt—a boy—and his name is Moon Song. If you promise to be really quiet and not disturb them, you can have a peek.”

Their faces bright with excitement, the children and their moms all promised, and Sally led them around to the foaling paddock. Ben trailed behind.

The colt and his mother were in the shade of a few cottonwoods. Moon was nursing, but released the mare's teat and turned his head to study the visitors who lined up along the fence. He looked just as curious as the children who gazed at him with hushed oohs and “Isn't he cute?” comments. Sally stood back watching, a smile on her face.

As if she felt Ben's gaze, she glanced toward him.

He gave her a smile and a nod, hoping to share the specialness of the moment. She nodded back, and held his gaze for a long moment. He liked it when the two of them connected, when she put aside whatever made her so wary.

Moon went back to nursing, and Sally herded her reluctant students to the lesson ring.

For Ben, the rest of the afternoon was pretty easy. Sally's second class was made up of adolescents and young teens, and they were responsible for grooming and tacking up their horses, then removing the tack after the lesson and currying the horses. After that, Sally had a lesson with two teenaged girlfriends.

He helped out with students and owners as needed, cleaned tack when it was finished with, and kept the barn tidy. When Max, the vet, came to check on the two Songs, he chatted briefly with her. Other than that, he did the exercises the physio had given him as well as most of his regular core, lower back, and leg exercises and stretches. It made for a pretty laid-back day, which was good since he'd had only three hours of sleep last night.

But Sally was on the go all the time, however. It was after seven when she finished, and he could see she was dragging.

“Why don't I throw together some dinner?” he offered.

She gazed at him, bleary-eyed. “I'm beat. I just want to look after my hens, grab a sandwich, and hit the sack. I'm not in the mood for company.”

He studied her face. Should he say that he'd make her the sandwich, and that he didn't expect scintillating conversation? Earlier, she'd commented about him not listening, and always persuading her to agree to things. There'd been a troubled expression on her face.

Maybe this time he would not only listen, but take what she said at face value. “Okay, Sally, I hear you. You get a good sleep.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “You're not going to argue?”

“Did you want me to?”

She blinked. “No, actually, I don't.” A pause. “Thank you, Ben. Thank you for everything.” Another blink, as if she was deciding what more to say. She settled for “See you in the morning.”

Chapter Nine

What had she been thinking, letting Cassidy and Dave talk her into this? Late on Friday afternoon, Sally went into the barn where Ben was taking off Puffin's tack. “We can't go to dinner,” she told him. “I don't know what I was thinking. I have to call Cassidy.”

“Now?” Deftly, he slid off the saddle and pad so that they hooked over his good arm. “They'll have shopped, maybe started to cook. You can't cancel now.”

“Then you go. I can't.” Relief, tinged surprisingly with a little disappointment, seeped through her.

He took the saddle to the tack room and she undid the black-and-white gelding's bridle. When Ben came back carrying Puffin's halter, he asked, “Why can't you go?”

Sally slipped the bridle off as Ben put the halter on, his fingers brushing against hers. A tingle of heat rippled up her arm. She took a couple of steps backward, holding on to the bridle. “I can't leave this place unattended.”

“You did when we went riding. You do it when you take people on trail rides.”

“That's daytime. It's different.”

“Hmm. What d'you figure might happen?” He began to give the horse a light curry.

“Anything. Fire, horse thieves, vandals. The owners who are coming in—”

“Are all ones who care for their own horses, didn't you say?” He moved around to the horse's other side.

“Yes, but they might need help with something, or have a question.” She gazed at him across Puffin's back. “But I'm more worried about the other things. Fire, vandalism, and so on.”

“Hmm. You've never left this place unattended at night?”

When did she ever go out at night? Only for Dave and Cassidy's wedding. “Corrie was here.” Even during the day, Sally almost never left except to lead a trail ride.

Ben came back around the gelding and planted himself beside her. Right there, in her personal space, close enough that she could feel the heat he gave off. Or was that heat coming from her? “Call Heather,” he said.

“Heather?” The sixteen-year-old was one of her occasional students.

“I talked to her when she came for her lesson the other day. She said she'd love to ride more often but can't afford to. I bet she'd babysit the place if you gave her a free lesson.”

“I can't put a teenager in charge of Ryland Riding.”

“All she has to do is watch out for fires and horse thieves and call you or 911 if something worries her. She strikes me as a responsible girl.”

“I guess.” Heather did seem to be mature and disciplined.

“You have a problem delegating.”

“This is my place,” she defended herself. “And I did delegate to Corrie, once she proved herself.” Like Dave with Madisun, Sally had been reluctant at first, but delegating had proved to be a good thing. “Heather might be okay,” she admitted, “but it's Friday night. She'll be busy.” And Sally could stay home, safe inside her comfort zone.

“Don't know unless you try. Want me to call?” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I'll look up her number on the office computer.”

Sally opened her mouth to protest, but he'd gone. She shrugged. No way that a pretty, outgoing girl like Heather wouldn't have Friday night plans. Sally led Puffin out to the paddock.

When she came back, Ben shoved his phone into his pocket. “She'll be here in an hour.”

“She's available at this late notice?”

“She planned to hang out with a couple friends, but she's canceling. Guess she'd rather be with horses.”

“I can relate,” Sally said dryly. But maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Dave, Cassidy, and Robin were nice. Ben was nice. They'd probably get along and have lots to talk about. She didn't need to stress out; she could sit back and listen.

Hard to believe that she used to love hanging out in a Western bar, chatting with rodeo colleagues and fans. Now, even a simple dinner among friends had her nerves a-jangle.

“How about I finish up here?” Ben said. “You go do whatever girly stuff you need to do.”

Girly stuff? Sally's mouth fell open. “Oh, Lord, I can't go!”

“What now?” He sounded exasperated.

Despite his vow that he'd never hurt her, it made her anxious when a man was annoyed with her. Eyeing him warily, she said, “I don't have anything to wear.”

To her surprise, he chuckled. “Women always say that.”

“In my case it's true. I own a dress, but it's . . .” She'd worn it to Dave and Cassidy's wedding. “It's not right for a casual dinner. Other than that, all I have are jeans and shirts.”

“It's ranch country. Jeans and a shirt will be fine.”

“No, I mean work jeans and shirts. The kind I wear every day.”

“Sally, they won't care what you wear. They want to see
you,
not your clothes.”

“Actually, it's you they want to see.” And Ben, even in the most casual of work clothes, looked fantastic.

“Well, I'm wearing jeans and a shirt. You'd better do the same or I'll feel underdressed.”

She twisted her mouth. Life was so much easier when she didn't socialize.

As she walked to the house, she mused that, even though she'd learned the wisdom of dressing to not be noticed by men, her vanity hadn't entirely deserted her. Just for once, it would be nice to look like Sally Pantages again rather than Sally Ryland.

She showered off the day's dust and sweat, washed her hair and dragged a comb through her tangled curls, and rubbed heavy duty lotion into her dry skin. The contents of her closet were uninspiring: everything was old, plain, and baggy. She selected the least worn pair of jeans, a tee in a pretty shade of yellow, and a green and white plaid shirt with a thin yellow stripe running through it. Wearing green brought out the green highlights in her gray eyes.

No make-up. She didn't own any.

It used to be part of her image as a barrel racer, along with the flashy silver shirt and long, fiery hair. Rodeo was performance as well as sport. But Pete had told her she was so pretty she didn't need make-up. On the flip side, he'd also said it made her look slutty.

She studied her reflection. Drab. Definitely not slutty.

Was Ben attracted to her? Sometimes his eyes gleamed in a way that sent a tug of awareness through her. If he was, it couldn't be because of her appearance.

Sally shook her head vigorously to get rid of his voice. Ben wasn't like that. Two or three of the female owners and students, including the beautiful Madeleine, had flirted with him. He'd been friendly, but nothing more. The only person she'd seen him look at
that way
was her. Which really didn't make sense.

“Sally?” A knock sounded downstairs.

The bedside alarm clock told her it was later than she'd thought. “Be right down.” Sock-footed, she ran down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Ben leaned against the frame of the open door between the mudroom and the kitchen, a doorway she'd never invited him through. A part of her noted that fact, and appreciated that he hadn't invaded her space. But mostly, she gaped in pure appreciation of
him
.

This was just plain unfair. He hadn't lied; he wore jeans and a shirt. But while she looked like her workday self, he was stunning. From the top of his damp, overly long hair to the toes of his gorgeous tooled cowboy boots. His blue snap-front shirt had black embroidery in a Native Canadian design and was tucked into jeans that hugged his long, muscled legs. The rodeo buckle on his belt—Calgary Stampede—drew attention to his narrow waist and hips.

Her own shirt had no embroidery and it hung loose over her jeans. Her trophy buckles for barrel racing were in a box in the storage room that used to be her and Pete's bedroom.

“You look good in green,” Ben said.

“Thanks. You, uh, look good, too.”
You'd look good in anything. And, I'm dead sure, in nothing at all
. The latter thought, coming out of nowhere, sent shocked heat racing through her. Why, why did he have this effect on her?

Ben stepped away from the doorway so she could enter the mudroom. “Heather's here. I made sure she has our cell numbers and the vet's number.”

“Thanks.” She pulled on her best boots, which were embarrassingly old and hadn't been conditioned in ages. Following Ben out of the mudroom, she closed and locked the door.

In silence they walked toward the barn. “Heather?” she called.

The girl trotted around from the back of the barn. A slim, ponytailed redhead, she was clad in jeans, work boots, and a plain gray tee. “Hi, Sally. I was admiring Moon Song. Isn't he the most handsome guy you've ever seen?”

No, that would be Ben.
“He's a beauty. Thanks so much for doing this. It should be pretty quiet. There'll be some owners coming—”

“Yup. Ben showed me the schedule.”

“You shouldn't have to do anything for them. Just say hi and be friendly.”

She grinned. “You bet. Is there anything else I can do while I'm here? Muck out stalls, clean tack?”

“If you cleaned the tack from this afternoon, that would be great. Thanks.”

“No problem, Sally.” Her expression sobered. “Money's tight at home, so if I can work in exchange for a lesson or some riding time, I'll be, like, eternally grateful.”

Sally glanced at Ben. “He's the person to thank.” She swallowed. “I guess we both owe him a thank-you.”

“Jeez, ladies,” he said. “Don't make a big deal of it. Sally, we'd better get going.”

“Okay. Heather, my cell's in my pocket. Call if anything, I mean
anything,
worries you the least little bit.”

“You bet.”

Somewhat reassured that Ryland Riding would survive the evening, and hoping she did the same, Sally walked beside Ben to where she parked her truck and horse trailer. His rig was there too, on a piece of flat ground with a view across rolling grasslands to the distant hills. As she'd suggested, he'd run a hose to the closest water tap.

“Want to take my truck?” he asked. It was unhitched from the trailer.

Her old truck almost never got used, and each time she turned the key in the ignition she said a silent prayer that the engine would turn over. Still, she eyed his sling. “Are you sure you should be driving?”

“Hasn't stopped me yet.”

“Well, then, thanks.” She climbed up into the passenger side of his truck.

When he got in the driver's side, a flutter of anxiety and excitement quickened her breath. This was the first time in forever that she'd been in a vehicle with a man. Even when she was married, she'd held down the fort at Ryland Riding while Pete did the few errands that required leaving. If she mentioned this to Ben, he'd think she was even odder than he already did.

 

 

Ben glanced at Sally, all the way over by the passenger window. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap and her face muscles looked tense as she stared straight ahead. He wanted to touch her arm or leg to offer reassurance, but figured she wouldn't take it in a good way. Besides, he needed his right hand on the steering wheel.

Speaking over a Faith Hill song that was playing on the radio, he said, “Stop having second thoughts.”

Sally's mouth twitched, not with humor but with a grimace.

He really didn't get her behavior. On the phone, she'd sounded genuinely affectionate with Dave and his new wife. Yet she'd tried to avoid this dinner. Was it because of Ben? Did she not want to introduce him to these people? Or was her reluctance somehow linked to her comments about not going to town and not having clothes other than work ones?

He turned down the radio. “Tell me a little about your friends.”

“Dave Cousins was born here. He owns the Wild Rose Inn, which he restored.”

“I saw that place. He did a great job.”

She nodded. “He's married to Cassidy Esperanza—she kept her own surname—and he has a twelve-year-old daughter, Robin, who'll be there tonight.”

“
He
has a daughter? From a previous marriage?”

“Yes. He and Cassidy have just come back from their honeymoon. He and his ex, Jess, share custody of Robin. Jess remarried a few years ago, and she and Evan have a little boy.” Sally's voice relaxed as she spoke. Now she was glancing around, taking in the hay fields and ranch land broken by occasional houses and outbuildings.

“Jess remarried quite a while before Dave did.”

“Dave was engaged to a woman who was diagnosed with brain cancer. Anita died and it shattered him. He couldn't imagine ever loving another woman.”

When she stopped speaking, Ben glanced over and saw that she'd pressed her lips together and was frowning. Was she remembering Pete? He sure wished he knew the truth about their marriage. Had Pete been an abuser, or the love of Sally's life? Had his death shattered her? If so, that might have forged a bond between her and Dave. “But he did move on,” he said.

Her face softened; her lips curved. “Cassidy came to town last summer, intending to stay only a few months. She was a drifter with no real home. She got a job at the inn and she and Dave fell for each other. She stopped drifting and he found that he could love again.”

It was a nice story, and he liked the way Sally's face warmed in telling it. “How do all of them get along?” Ben's family life was so straightforward compared to Dave's.