Cari Webb - The Rancher's Rescue

Grace asked, “But Katie knows I’m helping with the books, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then she won’t question my being in Big E’s office.” Grace straightened the cuffs on her flannel sleeves as if she needed to put herself back together. “Besides, I’d rather not ride.”

It was easier to let her escape into the office. Easier to ride out to the south pasture alone. But then he’d spend the rest of the night questioning his own cowardice. The Blackwell men had been raised to be fearless and brave. He was already a coward for not having spoken frankly to Grace about their night together.

The solution was simple. He turned his baseball cap backward and concentrated on Grace like a starting pitcher with a no-hitter at the bottom of the ninth inning and the MVP batter at the plate. “You’ve been cooped up at a desk all day. What do you mean you don’t want to ride? You were practically born in a saddle and barely left it as a kid.”

“That was a long time ago.” Grace stubbed the toe of her boot into the gravel and avoided looking at him.

“But you still ride.” He clamped his teeth together, but too late.

Her head snapped up and her gaze centered on him. “How do you know that?”

He knew because he’d followed her posts on social media. He’d seen the picture of her at the horse show in Bozeman last month. Her wide smile couldn’t contain all her joy in that one picture, and whenever he looked at it, he smiled too. He hadn’t seen that kind of happiness in her since he’d returned home. Not that her happiness was actually due to him in any way.

He shifted his weight and shrugged. “Just guessing. You always had a passion for horses. You spent most of your weekends at shows in high school.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “You were too busy with Sarah Ashley to know where I was in high school.”

Sarah Ashley had spent her weekends with her girlfriends mostly. Ethan had definitely not been with her. When he’d needed a break from the ranch, he’d escaped to Brewster’s. Frank and Pops usually had something they needed hauling or lifting. And Grace’s mother most often had homemade cookies or a pie she’d insist he try. When Grandma Brewster had been alive, she’d fill him up on freshly squeezed lemonade.

The Gardners had always welcomed him, anytime, any day. Someone usually let slip Grace’s success at the weekend’s horse show or commented on her growing award shelf. He wondered if Grace knew how proud her parents and grandparents were of her. He wondered if she knew how lucky she’d been to have all their love for so many years. “As our high school years are firmly in the past, let’s concentrate on the now and take a ride together.”

“The sun is already setting and I’m not as familiar with the terrain out there as you are.” Grace opened her passenger car door and pulled out a jacket. “The ATV would probably be faster. We can get to work in the office sooner.”

Ethan nodded, preferring even the ATV to the house. The ATV put her right beside him. She wouldn’t have to strain to hear him, but he’d be stuck next to her. If he struggled to find the right words, he couldn’t simply gallop ahead and collect himself. Still, he loaded the ATV and motioned for Grace to climb in.

Ethan guided the ATV around several potholes and waited until the trail evened out enough to not rattle his voice. He wanted to get this apology out the first time. Now seemed as good a time as any. But “sorry” never slipped past his lips; instead, he blurted out, “Why did you just leave a note that night?”

Ethan hit a bump. But not a large enough one to knock logic back into his thoughts.

Grace’s shoulder tapped against his. “I didn’t want it to be awkward.”

But it was awkward. Perhaps more so because they hadn’t said goodbye at the time. Worse, he’d never called her afterward.

She rushed on and filled the silence before awkwardness became a third passenger. “We’re both adults. Both knew what that night was.”

He thought he knew. Now he wasn’t so sure. “What was that night?”

“You’re going to make me say it?” Grace’s voice pitched high despite the wind. “Certainly, you’ve had one-night stands before.”

Maybe he had, but his past wasn’t the topic of discussion. The only one-nighter that concerned him now was theirs. He’d doubted Grace had ever had a one-night fling. And if that was true, how could she be so cavalier about their evening together? Hadn’t it meant anything to her?

He rubbed his chest, digging his knuckles into his ribs. He should be celebrating that Grace wasn’t into messy emotions and long-term commitments. “That’s all it was to you?” he asked.

“Was it something more to you?” Her tone was cautious as if she’d hesitated to voice the thought.

He slowed the ATV near the broken fence and twisted to look at her. Her gaze locked on to his, making him want to rub his chest again. She wanted his answer. Yet there was no right answer and he’d paused too long.

Grace zipped her jacket to her chin and yanked her hood over her head. “And now, it’s awkward.”

Ethan ran his hands over his face. “Not how I wanted this conversation to go.”

“How did you want it to go?” She gripped the handrail and moved away from him.

“I wanted to apologize for not calling.”

“I never called you either.”

He touched her arm, pulling her gaze back to his. “Still, I don’t make a habit of nights like those.” Although, a quiet voice inside him whispered that Grace could become a habit. Good thing he was usually surrounded by so much noise, he could rarely hear said voice.

“That’s good to know.” Her chin dipped inside her collar. “I don’t either.”

“Okay.” Ethan relaxed into the seat. Her thinking surprised him. And perhaps rankled a bit. As he’d never been one of those overly sensitive guys, he brushed off the discomfort as stiffness from climbing the ladder too many times to test the batteries in the fire alarms of every guest room in the lodge that afternoon. “What now?”

A pair of hawks screeched, circling above them. One hawk dived into the field and returned to the sky with a long snake thrashing inside its talons. Grace slapped a hand over her mouth and tracked the hawk’s path over the ATV.

Ethan remembered their conversation at the bar when she’d shared her fear of snakes after he’d admitted elevators made him uneasy. “Don’t worry. That hawk won’t drop its dinner.”

Grace kept her gaze on the sky and spoke through her fingers. “But it might drop pieces of the snake. Its talons are sharper than my knives at home. Is that blood dripping to the ground?”

“At least the snake will be dead when it lands on us,” Ethan teased, and reached for the wire cutters inside the tool bag beside Grace’s feet. “Snake can be good eating if it’s breaded and fried.”

“You didn’t really just say that, did you?” Grace curled into her jacket.

He unlatched the safety on the wire cutters, and noticed her voice was unsteady. He paused to study her.

Her skin had paled to a strange gray color. She hadn’t sounded uncomfortable with their conversation. They’d only just released the valve on their past. He was certain there’d be more for them to discuss, but she looked uncomfortable now.

Had the snake bothered her that much? She pressed her lips together, her bottom lip disappearing from the pressure. Bringing up the snake again probably wasn’t the best approach.

He glanced at the setting sun. Dinnertime would be over before he finished his repairs, even if he was quick. Food had always been Big E’s answer to everything. Maybe it would help here. “We’ve got chicken soup at the house. I’ll make us something while you get your bearings in Big E’s office.”