Wild Hearts (10 page)

I looked over the herd again. The horses had a hold on him—something almost otherworldly. I hadn't understood his connection to the horses before. But now I could see the way looking at the herd lit up his face. Soon I would be partly to blame for taking that away.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Never walk when you can ride. And never stand when you can sit.

I unwrapped the fluffy white towel and dropped it onto the wooden deck chair. It was barely sixty degrees outside, but the hot tub sounded perfect. I adjusted my turquoise bikini strap and stepped into the warm water. I lowered myself onto the seat, and water came up to my earlobes.

I'd spent the last three days working at Dad's job site. The starts of his jobs were always busiest—I'd been working from eight or nine in the morning to well after the sun set. Dad prided himself on finishing jobs ahead of schedule, and, with the rocky beginning here aside, this job was going well. Most of it. Dad had been a little shady about two phone calls that he got every day at ten a.m. and two p.m. He always stepped outside and when he came back in, the look on his face scared me enough to stay quiet.

I'd gotten brave one day and sneaked Dad's phone over to the card table between us. The phone rang and I lunged for it.
Dad snapped at me to leave the phone alone. Every morning, there had been two or three people standing beside Dad's trailer with signs. Brody had offered to handle them from now on and Dad had agreed. I was glad—Brody was level-headed and could talk the protestors into leaving.

My fingers were about to press the jet button, when Mom's voice carried over the yard from her phone conversation. “Are you sure it's safe?” Mom said into the phone. “Don't lie to me.” She paused and I strained to hear more. “Let Brody handle it, then. Is there someone else to take over? A job isn't worth . . .” Her voice trailed off and I couldn't hear her anymore. She put the phone in the back pocket of her jeans and returned to her garden. I started to call out to her, but changed my mind. She would tell me if it was serious.

I closed my eyes for a minute, grateful for the warm water relaxing my muscles. No more thinking about protestors. I wanted to think about things besides business today.

Mom had decided to start her first garden. We'd never had one before—it had never made sense to do one, since by the time the garden would bloom, we would move and someone else would get to enjoy the flowers.

But Mom decided to go for it this time, and planned to document the garden's growth and turn it into a photojournalism piece.

Photography was her first love, but she wanted to take writing classes to pen articles to accompany all her photos. She had tried talking me into a writing or photography class this summer. She knew I felt lost and wanted to find my “thing.” My
gut told me I wasn't going to find what I was looking for in a classroom.

Yesterday, during a break from working for Dad, I'd met Mom in town. Together, we had shopped for garden supplies. Everyone had looked at us, but no one had approached Mom or me. No one except the older woman who owned the store. She introduced herself to us and helped Mom find everything she needed for her garden. After a pleasant experience in town, I think Mom felt much better about me going into town by myself.

The sound of a hawk overhead jerked me out of my thoughts. I looked down at Mom and grinned. She was intently reading a bulb packet and muttering to herself. She stuck her hand in the hole she had dug, pulled out the bulb and turned it over. Like that poor plant had a chance of growing upside down. I laughed and twisted my hair into a knot, getting the dripping ends out of the water.

My phone rang on the table and I leaned over and swiped it off the stand.

“Kate!” I said into the phone, greeting my older sister.

“You're not lost in the wilderness, are you?” she asked. “If you are, I'm sorry to say I can't help you.”

I laughed. “I never expected
you
to save me from the woods. But isn't LA like a concrete jungle?”

“I guess,” she said. “I went to report on a star sighting at the Ivy and it was supposed to be an exclusive and all these other people from, like,
Entertainment Now
were there.”

Disdain dripped from her voice when she said
Entertainment Now.
Competition among the networks was fierce. Last summer,
she had visited us while she was on vacation and had yelled at me because I'd flicked on
EN
for five seconds. It wasn't my fault that only
EN
had the Sean Houston exclusive, but Kate didn't agree.

“Did you get the scoop anyway?” I asked, lazily swirling my fingers in the water. Mom was still planting and it seemed like she got the hang of it now. She was no longer flopping dirt from one freshly dug hole into the next.

A rush of voices flooded the background and that had to be the
Access
lot. Kate had told me stories of the dozens of people running around to meet the show's daily deadline. It was a pressure-packed job.

“Yeah, I got it,” she said, sounding far away and suddenly distracted. “Listen, I've got to run, but tell Mom I got my vacation days changed. I can come visit you guys in July instead of waiting until Thanksgiving.”

“Great!” I said, excited, since I hadn't seen her in months. “Miss you.”

“Miss you and love you!” Kate said, hanging up.

I plunked the phone back on the table and half stood in the hot tub. The cool spring air gave me goose bumps and I sank back down in the water. “Mom!” I yelled.

She lifted her head and pulled off a dirty glove, shading her eyes. “What?”

“Kate's coming home before the holidays!” I called down to her. “She said she could come in July.”

“Wonderful!” she said.

Even though it was mid-March, Mom would be thrilled from now until then. She'd start getting a room ready for Kate
and would be buzzing around the house talking about how she missed having Kate at home.

After an hour of pruning in the warm water, I couldn't sit still any longer. I headed for my bathroom and hopped inside the glass shower, bikini and all. After I'd showered, I towel-dried my hair and let it hang loose at my shoulders.

Ever since my day with Logan, I'd sort of been keeping one ear open for a far-off sound of an ATV. I wasn't expecting him to pull up in my driveway—that was a definite
no
that we had established when he had offered to take me home that afternoon. It had been four days ago when he had dropped me off just before my driveway, and I had walked the short distance home. I'd been greeted by my parents and they had asked how my day had gone. I picked out a couple of things that I'd done with Logan and made it sound as though I had gone exploring by myself.

I pulled myself out of the memory and tugged a three-quarter-sleeve waffle knit shirt over my head and stepped into an airy peasant skirt. I dabbed on strawberry lip gloss and ran a bronzer over my cheekbones. My reflection wasn't half bad. My shoulder-length hair hung in dark waves around my shoulders and the bronzer made my green eyes pop.

Something swirled deep in my stomach. Again, it felt as though everyone had found their niche except me. Kate was on TV. Logan had horses. Mom had photography. Dad had work. This summer had to be different than before—I had to stop working for Dad in three-day sprints and start finding
something that
I
was passionate about. If I wanted to find myself—as lame as that sounded—it wasn't going to happen while I sat in a hot tub.

 

CHAPTER NINE

A man is not born a cowboy. He becomes one.

Out of breath and trying not to look sweaty, I parked my bike outside of Watson's. I'd passed WyGas on the way and had lingered for a moment, looking for Logan's truck. But it wasn't there.

Inside Watson's, Amy bagged groceries at the register.
I live here now. This is the only grocery store in town.
Ignoring her, I went to the back of the store and got a Diet Coke. I waited until there wasn't anyone else in line before going up to the register.

“Just this,” I said, thrusting a five at her.

Amy took the money and put the change back on my waiting open palm.

“Thanks,” I said. I opened my drink and walked away.

“Um, Brie?” Amy called.

I put my hand on the exit door, ready to push it open, but turned around, facing her. “What?”

“I wanted to apologize again,” Amy said. She tucked her black hair behind her ears. “I was a total bitch to you.”

I stayed silent, just staring at her.

“I did a lot of thinking after that happened,” Amy said. “Actually, you acted so much classier than I would have if
somebody had talked like that about my dad,” Amy continued. “If I were you, I probably would have hit me.”

I almost smiled. Sincerity radiated through her voice and I could tell how sorry she was. This was her second apology. How many more times was I going to make her say that she was sorry? There was something about Amy that I couldn't help but like.

“Thanks,” I said. “It was cool of you to apologize again.”

“Are you doing anything now?”

I shook my head. “No, I was just going home.”

“My shift was over ten minutes ago,” Amy said. “I was just working until Casey got here to take over.”

As if on cue, a curly-haired brunette jogged through Watson's automatic doors. She shook her head. “I'm so sorry, Amy! I'll stay late tomorrow.”

“It's okay, Case,” Amy said. “See you tomorrow.”

Amy turned to me. “Do you want to get coffee or dessert or something and maybe talk?”

Her offer caught me off guard. I'd planned to slip in and out of Watson's.

“Sure,” I said, finally.

Amy took off her Watson's smock and slung it over her shoulder. A cerulean-blue cross-body purse went on the other shoulder. “Do you like coffee?” she asked.

“I like it enough to think it should be added to the food chain,” I said.

“Then I think you'll like Beans,” she said. “It's not like the chain coffee shops that you're probably used to, though.”