Love Somebody Like You (14 page)

Her pulse kicked up and she drew her foot away as Cassidy said, “So, thank you, Ben.”

He put his fork down on the plate he'd emptied, and leaned back. “Not sure what I did, but you're welcome. I'm happy to be here. Great company, great food, and it's nice seeing the inside of the inn.”

“You should try the restaurant some time,” Cassidy said. “Mitch is an amazing chef. And the Western bar is so much fun.” She eyed his sling. “Guess you're not up to line dancing?”

“Not for another few days. You have line dancing in the bar?”

“Sunday nights,” Cassidy said. “It's fun even if you don't dance. Why don't you come this Sunday and check it out?”

“Love to,” he said promptly. “Sally, why don't we see if Heather's available Sunday to keep an eye on Ryland Riding?”

What was up with this “we” business, and him trying to make plans for her? Though she had to admit, she sure used to like hanging out at a Western bar listening to country music and dancing with cute cowboys . . . But that was in her Sally Pantages days. “I'm sure the bar is great. But you all know I'm not big on socializing.”

“Mom and Evan will be there this Sunday,” Robin said. “And Gramma Brooke and Jake. You know them. They're nice, right?”

She was being ganged up on again. “They're nice,” Sally admitted. “But I don't have anything to wear.”

“Days of Your,” Cassidy reminded her.

The thrift shop. She had been tempted when Cassidy mentioned it earlier. It could be more fun and economical than ordering generic clothes online. One day, maybe she would come into town and check it out. The next time she had a little cash. “Saturday's booked. No way do I have time to come into town and shop.”

“Hmm.” Cassidy rose to clear the plates. “We're about the same size. You could come here Sunday and I'll lend you something.”

“I couldn't do that.”

Cassidy tilted her a smile. “What did I say earlier? Friends like to help each other out. It'd be fun.”

 

 

Watching Sally's face, Ben wondered when she'd last done something as totally girly as hanging out with another woman, trying on clothes. Maybe gossiping about guys. He kind of liked the idea of Sally gossiping about him. Hopefully, she'd have good things to say.

Though maybe not. If she compared him to Dave or to Ty Ronan, men barely older than he was, he'd surely come up lacking. That was the kind of guy who'd be a good match for Sally.

Cassidy and Dave exchanged glances. Cassidy said, “Sally, Robin, would you mind helping me clear the table and get dessert and coffee going? Robin, we'll see if we can persuade Sally to come into town Sunday and have some fun.”

Robin bounced to her feet and Sally rose more slowly. Ben knew she'd be all too happy to help in the kitchen, but figured she'd rather not face a double dose of female persuasiveness. He gave her an encouraging grin and got a scowl in return, which made him smother a chuckle.

“So,” Dave said when the three females had left the room.

Ben looked at him where he sat at the opposite end of the dining room table, and wasn't sure whether to let out the chuckle or to feel terrified. Dave's elbows rested on the table, his hands were clasped, and his eyes were narrowed. Bad enough that he'd hassled Ben about not having a goal or plan in life. What was coming next?

“You and Cassidy had this planned.” Ben reached for his wineglass.

“She knew I wanted to talk to you alone.”

Ben took a sip of bubbly wine, though a slug of beer would be better suited to this conversation. “I get that Sally's your friend. She's my friend, too.” Deliberately, he added, “From way back.” In other words, from long before Dave even met her.

“Cassidy and Robin say I can be overprotective when it comes to the people I care about.” Dave looked solemn and older than his years. “I don't think it's such a bad quality.”

“I don't either. I'm the same way with my family and friends.”

“Then you won't be offended if I ask what's the deal with you and Sally.” His level tone made it clear that he didn't give a damn whether Ben took offense.

“Nope. I think she's lucky to have such a good friend. I want to be that kind of friend to her as well.”

“Friend? That's all? You're staying out at her place.”

Ben drummed the fingers of his right hand against the place mat, deliberating. “Seems to me you should be asking Sally about this. But I'll tell you anyhow. I have a trailer with my own sleeping quarters, kitchen, bathroom. That's where I live.” Not that he wouldn't happily share Sally's bedroom, but she'd yet to invite him past the kitchen door. “My horse is in Sally's paddock and we've got a place to exercise and train. In return, I assist Sally with whatever my shoulder lets me do. That's the deal.” He repeated Dave's word.

“Hmm.”

“Let me guess. You want to ask what my intentions are.”

“Well?”

Because Ben appreciated the way the other man cared for Sally, he told him. “I like Sally and I respect her. A lot, on both counts.”

He glanced toward the open dining room door and caught a murmur of voices from the kitchen down the hall. Turning back to Dave, he leaned forward and said quietly, “I'll be honest and tell you I'd be a happy man if it turned into something more. But all I've got to offer is short term, and that might not suit a woman like her who deserves so much more. Besides, Sally's got her boundaries, her defenses. She's . . .” He hunted for the right word. “She's vulnerable.”

Dave's brows rose. “Don't let her hear you say that.” His voice too, was low.

Ben gave a short laugh. “I'm not that stupid. She's strong, proud, too independent. But there's something beneath it.” He studied the other man. Did Sally trust Dave enough to tell him a truth she refused to reveal to Ben?

Dave's hazel eyes gazed steadily into his. “Grief can knock you back a long way. Make you wary about ever jumping in again.”

“I saw that with my grandma after Granddad died. But . . .” He drummed his fingers again. “Look, I don't want to gossip about Sally. But we both care about her and . . . I think there's something wrong. She's too nervous around men.”

Dave blinked once, slowly. “A widow. A young, attractive woman living alone. Makes sense she'd be cautious.” His tone was neutral. If he knew Sally's secret, he wasn't divulging it. At least not yet.

“Sure. But you didn't know her before she got married. She was sassy, feisty.” He gave a quick grin. “Hell, she had no trouble putting cocky cowboys like me in our place. Now all that sass is gone and she acts . . . afraid. I think some man scared her. Maybe hurt her.”

Dave let out a long sigh. He rose, thrust his fingers through his hair, and paced the length of the room. “Cassidy and I wonder about that, too. It was part of the reason we were so surprised to hear she had a man staying at her place, and we wanted to meet you.”

So Sally hadn't confided in Dave either. Relieved that the other man had accepted him, Ben turned sideways in his chair to look up at him, “If she didn't know me from the old days, she wouldn't have let me stay.”

“She knew you well enough to trust you.”

“She trusts me up to a certain point, but she has strict boundaries. And she's skittish. Like a horse that's been mistreated. D'you know what I mean? Are you a rider?”

“I sure am. And yes, that's a good description.” His jaw tightened and he shot a glance out the open door. “I hate to think of someone hurting Sally.”

“I know.” Ben realized he had fisted his right hand. Stretching his fingers out again, he said, “I've tried to talk to her. She won't admit that something happened. But I did get her to tell me that, if there had been some problem, the guy was no longer a threat.”

Dave's face lightened. “I'm surprised she'd say that much. And relieved.”

Ben rose to stand beside Dave. He checked to make sure that the female murmur was still safely distant. “Wondered if it might be Pete.”

He frowned. “Surely not. He and Sally were crazy about each other.”

“You saw them together?”

“No. But everyone said so.”

“Did Sally say so?”

Dave opened his mouth to reply, then closed it. After a moment, he said, “No. But she let me believe it.” He frowned. “Did you know Pete?”

“No, but I was around when he swept in and courted Sally. It was fast, romantic. He was like a freaking tidal wave carrying her along with him.”

“Sometimes love hits like that.” A shadow in Dave's eyes suggested that he might be thinking of his deceased fiancée.

“I guess. They did really seem to be in love.” Ben had put a lot of thought into this over the past day or so, and now he shared what he'd been thinking. “But looking back, it was almost too intense. The guy was obsessed with her. She gave up rodeo, suddenly they were getting married, then they moved to B.C. Did you know she cut off connections with her family? And all her rodeo friends? That sure as hell wasn't like the gal I used to know.”

Dave gave a low whistle. “I didn't know all of that. She doesn't talk about personal stuff. Here, she and Pete kept to themselves.”

Ben swallowed, and then spoke words that grated in his throat. “Abusers isolate their victims, right? If something bad had been going on, Sally'd have had no one to turn to for support.”

“I hear what you're saying. But he's been dead three years and she's still skittish.”

“Maybe because he gave her reason to mistrust men. Damn, Dave, you should've seen her the way she used to be. So happy and vibrant.”

The other man's eyes warmed. “You do care for her. More than a little.”

Gruffly, Ben said, “Hard not to. Maybe I'm wrong, and it wasn't Pete. But the fact remains, she's messed up.”

The female voices grew louder and Robin cried, “No, Merlin! Stay in the kitchen.”

Dave said under his breath, “Then help her, Ben, but don't hurt her. She can't take being hurt again.” He strode over to meet his wife, relieving her of a platter with a chocolate-iced cake.

Sally followed with a tray holding four coffee mugs and a glass of milk. Robin carried dessert plates and a carton of ice cream.

As Ben resumed his seat, Cassidy said, “Guess what? We talked Sally into coming on Sunday. So, Ben, you make sure she doesn't back out.”

As Sally handed him a mug, he gave himself the treat of brushing his fingers against hers. “Hah. This woman has a mind of her own. But I'll use my best persuasive powers. I'll tell her she'll break your heart if she doesn't let you play dress-up with her.”

Sally snorted, but her eyes danced with humor as she gave him a mock glare. “You think you're pretty clever, don't you, cowboy?”

He winked, happy that she was joking with him. “I have my moments.”

“I suppose you do.” Her eyes softened with an expression that made his heart give an unexpected throb.

Dave had warned him not to hurt her. But it occurred to Ben that, just possibly, he might be the one who was in for some pain.

Chapter Eleven

Early Saturday evening, after a day packed with lessons, Sally was tired but full of a sense of achievement.

“Busy day,” Ben commented as they led the last two horses out to the large paddock. “You're a great teacher. You enjoy it, don't you?”

“Very much.” She unbuckled Melody's halter and gave the buckskin a final pat on the neck before stepping outside the fence and latching the gate.

“Not as exciting as barrel racing.”

“It's exciting in a different way. I find it really satisfying to share my love of horses and to help riders develop their skills.”

“Watching you, I can see what you mean.”

Without discussing it, their footsteps turned toward the foaling paddock where Song and Moon were both flourishing. She and Ben settled side by side, his right forearm next to her left one on the top rail of the fence. Hers was covered by a cotton shirt, buttoned at the cuff. His was bare below the short sleeve of his shirt. The heat of midday had worn off, thankfully. Earlier, it had been a scorcher. Out in the ring, sweating under the triple layers of bra, tee, and shirt, she'd seen Ben working Chauncey's Pride in the neighboring ring, his shirt unbuttoned down the front. She'd caught tantalizing glimpses of firm pecs and six-pack abs. It hadn't helped her concentration on the lesson—and she'd been amused and irked to notice that the moms in the bleachers had paid more attention to him than to their young riders.

But at least it normalized her own distractedness. It wasn't slutty to enjoy looking at a handsome man.

“Best entertainment in the world,” Ben said.

She gave a guilty start before realizing he meant the colt playing with its shadow. “I could watch foals forever.” Or, it seemed, Ben's fine body. Moon made her smile with affection and amusement; Ben's physique aroused more—well,
arousing
—sensations. Around him, she felt like a woman again. She was beginning to think that might not be such a bad thing.

He turned to her. “Want to put something together for dinner?”

Much as she enjoyed being around him, she shouldn't get used to it. Besides, she needed her personal space. Even more than that, she needed him to respect her boundaries. “Not tonight, thanks. I have some housework and other stuff to do.” Her pulse quickened. Going against Pete had never worked out well.

“You still need to eat. I could make something and bring it over.”

She swallowed, unable to distinguish between kindness and pressure. “That's nice of you but, uh, I'd kind of like to be alone.”

“Sure.” He said it easily, without any undertone of hurt or anger, at least not that she could hear. “Just promise me you'll eat.”

Tension eased from Sally's shoulders. “I'll eat. After that amazing meal last night, I think it may just be salad and hard-boiled eggs tonight.”

“I hear you. That was some food, eh?”

Leaning on the fence beside him, she glanced at his profile. Ben likely wouldn't want to hang around Ryland Riding on his own on Saturday night. “Feel free to go into town.”

He glanced at her. “I'd rather pack up some sandwiches and a bottle of beer and take Chaunce out for a long ride. Go to the lake, or up that hill you took me to, and have a picnic.”

That sounded nice.

He cocked an eyebrow. “You're welcome to come.”

Had she looked wistful? “Maybe some other time.” She did need some space, some time away from Ben, and something had been nagging at her all day that she wanted to do.

“I hope so.”

They walked to the barn, then went their separate ways.

Sally made herself a quick, light meal, did an hour or two of housework, and then went into the spare room. This had been her and Pete's bedroom. After he died, she'd called Goodwill and donated the furniture, along with his clothes and personal possessions. Online, she'd bought an inexpensive bedroom set and had it delivered and set up in a different room.

Now the old bedroom was empty but for storage boxes. After some rummaging, she found the one that contained her tooled cowboy boots, the one nice pair she'd kept from the old days. Not that she'd ever worn them again, but sentiment wouldn't let her toss them. They were well broken in from two-stepping and line dancing in lots of bars along the rodeo circuit.

She eased her foot into one. To her surprise, the boot fit like her foot belonged in it. The leather, the shade of dark honey, was dry, but leather conditioner should restore it. If she went to the Wild Rose tomorrow night, her feet would be dressed in appropriate style.

Next she found the box that held her trophy buckles. Pete had said it was egotistical to flaunt a flashy belt buckle, but Sally had always taken pride in these. It wasn't the “I'm the best” thing as much as the sense of how she and Autumn Mist had worked hard and achieved something special together. Sally took out the last one she'd won, from the Calgary Stampede just before Pete proposed to her.

It symbolized the end of her old life. Could wearing it again symbolize the start of a new life, one where she freed herself from Pete's influence? Maybe she could become a new Sally, one who acknowledged her past accomplishments, her present strengths, and her femininity.

From a shelf in the closet, she took out her old jewelry box. Her best friend had given it to her for her twelfth birthday. Made of pale wood, it had a rearing horse carved on the top. She opened the lid. Inside, there were only a few items.

She picked up the engagement ring with the big, sparkly diamond solitaire. She hadn't been able to wear it when she was working around Ryland Riding, but she'd had to remember to put it on whenever she was in the house.

Next, Sally picked up the gold wedding band. She'd worn it all the time, even for a year after Pete died. She'd been too scared to take it off. Scared of crazy things. Like that he wasn't really gone but was faking her out, setting a trap, waiting to catch her betraying their marriage.

After all, how could he really be dead? One minute he'd been gripping a pitchfork, yelling at her, red-faced and furious, raising his hand to strike her.

Now her hand clenched around the cold metal of the two rings. The edges of the diamond stabbed into her palm. Until death do us part. A life sentence.

But even after Pete's death, she hadn't been free. He'd left her not only a heavily mortgaged piece of land and a business loan on a shaky enterprise, but a manure heap of self-doubt, shame, and guilt.

She opened her hand and stared down at the rings. How had something that had started with such promise so quickly turned dark and scary? How had she let it happen?

So many times after his death, when she'd worried over how she could possibly make the next mortgage payment, she had thought of selling these rings. Yet something had held her back. Now, maybe it was time to get rid of these reminders.

But the rings weren't the reason she'd opened her jewelry box tonight.

She lifted out a couple of the half dozen pairs of dangly earrings: etched silver feathers and gold hoops strung with turquoise stones. She'd loved to wear them to the bar, along with a fancy shirt with an embroidered yoke and pearly snap buttons.

The earrings would look good with her tooled boots and the clothes Cassidy was going to loan her. When Sally was thirteen, she and a couple of friends had pierced each other's ears. The holes in her ears had grown over, but the Internet would remind her how to do it. She could imagine the expression on Ben's face.

She grinned, then shook her head and put the earrings back. That was just plain foolish. If she decided to get her ears re-pierced, she'd have it done professionally.

At the bottom of the box, she found the silver chain with the dangling horseshoe. This was the item that had been on her mind all day. Her parents had given her the necklace when she had signed up for Little Britches rodeo. It became her lucky charm. She'd worn it every single time she competed. When she took it off after that last Calgary Stampede, the night Pete had proposed, she'd had no idea she would never wear it again.

She walked into the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror, then undid the clasp of the chain and held the necklace up. Automatically, her fingers did what they used to do and fastened the clasp behind her neck. She stared at her reflection.

Her face was thinner, her cheekbones more pronounced. Her long hair was now much shorter, a mess of wavy curls that she whacked off when they got annoying. The freckles across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose were the same. The neckline of her T-shirt was higher than anything she used to wear. The horseshoe, which used to dangle on display in the notch of her collarbone, now tangled in the neck of her tee.

She lifted the pendant free, straightened her shoulders, and imagined herself without the tee, wearing a snug-fitting Western shirt with the top three snaps undone.

She'd told Ben she couldn't find her way back to the carefree woman she used to be, and that was true. But she didn't like the woman she'd been when she was with Pete, nor the one she'd become after he died. Could she find a new Sally whom she did like?

She touched her lucky horseshoe and knew where she had to start.

With her family.

 

 

Sunday at a quarter past six, Ben opened the screen door into Sally's mudroom. Freshly showered, he wore jeans, boots, and a black Western shirt with cinnamon stitching. The door from the mudroom into the kitchen was open, but he knew better than to take that as an invitation. Instead, he knocked on the frame and called, “Ready?”

A few seconds later, Sally stepped into the kitchen, looking uncertain. “As ready as I'll ever be, I guess.” She had a purse over her shoulder and toted a big bag. Other than that, she looked the same as always. No, there was one thing different: a silver necklace.

“I recognize that horseshoe,” he said as he took the bag from her. “You used to wear it.”

“It was my lucky charm. My parents gave it to me.”

“Your parents?” And she was wearing it now, even though she'd been estranged from her family? “Does this mean you talked to them?”