Ever After at Sweetheart Ranch (20 page)

“Sorry.”

“Yeah, I just can't seem to get it through his head that—­”

He stopped abruptly, as if he'd meant to confide something to her but changed his mind. Her shoulders sagged a little.

“—­that I'm just a cowboy.”

“It'll sink in eventually.” She reached to take Livvie's hand, and the wide-­eyed girl allowed it. “So . . . did you see the new flyer?”

He eyed her. “I did. Nice writing skills. So you didn't publish it?”

“It was the widows.”

He shook his head. “Guess I'm not surprised. How did they find out?”

She gave him the details, then added, “They insist they want to help me promote but promise not to reveal my name before I'm ready.”

“That's nice of them to give you a boost.”

She shrugged. “I was pretty worried, but they assure me the reveal is all up to me.” After a long sigh, she put on a smile, determined to forget about what she couldn't control. “Can I get you a beer?”

“Sure, thanks. I'll find Livvie's parents or the next admirers and hand her over.”

But Livvie's parents, Josh and Whitney, were already approaching, and Livvie reached her chubby arms toward her dad, almost diving out of Will's embrace. Josh took her, wearing a proud grin. Whitney had dark hair styled in a layered cut to her shoulders, and a single dimple to the right of her mouth that deepened as she smiled.

“She's Daddy's little girl, that's for sure,” Whitney said. “I've never seen a man buy so many versions of toy horses—­stuffed ones, riding versions with wheels, little action figures.”

“She's going to be my little cowgirl,” Josh said, kissing Livvie's forehead. She burrowed her head under his chin, sucked her thumb, and stared around her with her mom's big gray eyes.

Lyndsay imagined what it would be like to have a child of her own, to cuddle every night, to introduce her to the world, to share her with her daddy.

But not Will.

She gave Will a brief smile. “You stay and chat. I'll get the beer.”

In the cooler shadows of the barn, Lyndsay was filling up two Vote Thalberg cups from a keg when a female voice said in her ear, “Love your promo flyers!”

Lyndsay jumped and spilled beer down her hand.

Jessica laughed. “Sorry!”

“You're not sorry. You love to startle me. And I didn't do those flyers. I promised you the first exclusive, and I wasn't planning on doing anything for myself.”

“If not you . . . ?”

Lyndsay finished filling a cup and started on the second one. “Once I found out, I promised not to tell. It'll come out. I'll be able to talk about it when we do the interview.”

“We should do that soon so we're ready to go to publication end of next week.”

Lyndsay felt a little thrill at the idea of her first interview as an author—­and was so glad that it would be with Jessica. “I'd love that. Give me a call and we'll set up dinner or something.”

“How are things with Will?” Jessica asked. “He looks mighty good holding a baby.”

“For a man who doesn't want kids,” Lyndsay said, then quickly looked around, but they hadn't been overheard. “I shouldn't have said that, sorry.”

“It's not like it's a big surprise,” Jessica sympathized. “He and I never dated long enough to talk about stuff like that, but obviously you two have been moving faster.”

“Not sure it was wise, but it's been fun.” It
was
fun, but it was no longer the same. “I knew going in that he wasn't the long-­term type. It's just harder than I thought it'd be.”

Jessica put a hand on her arm. “I'm sorry, Lynds.”

“Thanks.”

Lyndsay returned to her table and set a beer down in front of Will, noticing that Brooke and Adam had joined them, too.

Travis took in Lyndsay and shook his head. “So how do you get your girlfriend of a ­couple weeks to wait on you, when I can't get mine of a year to do the same?”

Monica and Lyndsay exchanged amused glances as Monica said, “Hey, I can be just as polite as Lyndsay. Taking turns being nice to each other only makes sense. It's just so often your turn,” she said smugly.

Adam joined in. “I've been married for almost six months, and I don't think I've mastered this yet either.”

“Hey, I'm nice to you all the time,” Brooke said, spreading her hands. “Who's doing your chores around here while you and Coach McKee are finishing up the latest house for our returning vets?” Her glance took in the whole table. “And I do it gladly, of course.”

“The welcome ceremony for our newest house is next week,” Travis said, “so everyone pay attention to your e-­mail for the details.”

Lyndsay knew that he and Adam, fellow ex-­Marines and now good friends, had begun working on the houses together. “Wow, how many houses have we renovated so far?”

“About fifteen over the last five years or so,” Adam said. “This newest one will be for a female vet, Sergeant Jamie Knapp, and her family.”

“My sister's coming to visit and attend the ceremony,” Travis said.

“That's great,” Will said with enthusiasm.

Travis's sister was a Marine who'd lost a lower leg to an IED. She'd fought to prove she could still be effective in her work so that she could keep serving her country. Lyndsay was really looking forward to meeting her.

“So how's it feel to be out of the apartment?” Lyndsay asked Monica.

“It was feeling a little claustrophobic,” Monica admitted. “Steph is enjoying it immensely. Every ­couple days she brings me up to show me another wall she decorated.”

Through this chitchat, Lyndsay couldn't miss the obvious way Chris and Will were avoiding each other's eyes. And then the fireworks really began when Chris seemed to almost belligerently bring up a story of Will rescuing a trapped skier after an avalanche. He earnestly talked about his brother's bravery, and he sounded so proud—­but Lyndsay had a feeling there was a dig meant there somewhere.

As if to give them privacy, Brooke, Adam, Monica, and Travis went to join the buffet line.

Will rounded on Chris, his eyes stern. “You've got to stop this. We can't be upset with each other—­this is the last thing Mom needs, with her problems.”

“You don't think I worry about Mom?” Chris demanded.

Lyndsay and Heather gave each other concerned glances.

Chris continued, “I keep balancing how much I talk about the wedding, trying not to stress her, wondering if that just makes everything worse.”

“What do you mean, ‘stress Mom'?” Steph said, as she came to stand next to her brothers. “What's going on that you haven't been telling me?”

There was an edge of fear to her voice that had her brothers actually looking apologetic toward each other.

Will sighed. “There's nothing major, it's just . . . I started noticing something the last ­couple weeks, but I didn't want to say much until I was certain.”

“Certain of what? Are she and Dad okay?” Steph demanded, her voice getting shrill.

“They're fine,” Chris said, taking her arm to draw her into an empty chair between them. “We're just worried about Mom's stress level because we think she's been drinking a bit too much.”

Her mouth dropped open and moved silently for a moment. “I wouldn't have moved out if I'd known she was having problems. Wait—­could my moving out have caused this? She didn't want me to go. I shouldn't have—­”

“Stop,” Will interrupted gently, taking her hand. “There is no one thing causing this. And though I talked to her about it, Mom doesn't see what I've been seeing.”

But Steph's eyes were brimming with tears. “Oh, God, she wanted to talk to me a ­couple days ago, and I was rushing to buy a stupid vase before the store closed and I was short with her—­”

Will cupped her face. “I'd hug you right now, but we don't want ­people to think something's wrong. It'll get back to Mom.”

Steph nodded like a bobble-­head doll and quickly wiped at her eyes. “What do we do? Should I move home?”

“No,” Chris said. “That's like asking if I should cancel my wedding. Mom isn't an alcoholic. We're just worried she's starting to rely on wine too much, and it's making her oversleep and miss some ranch duties. But Will talked to her.”

Steph turned wet eyes on Will.

“Mom knows we're concerned, and so does Dad,” Will said. “Let's give them some time to talk to each other. Now let's go get some food and enjoy Livvie's celebration.”

Steph nodded and rose to her feet, followed by Chris and Heather.

After the three of them moved away, Lyndsay looked at Will. “You did a good job with her.”

“I should have told her what was going on before,” he said, shaking his head. “I'm too used to protecting my baby sister.”

“I like that about you.”

He searched her eyes for a moment, but only said, “Let's go get some food.”

 

Chapter 18

I
t was far too easy to discuss his family's most intimate problems in front of Lyndsay, Will thought—­and he didn't like it. He stood behind her in line for the food, and he couldn't help admiring the way her short skirt hugged her hips and left her long, slender legs bare. Her strappy sandals practically decorated her feet. He was just raising his perusal to the silky top she wore, when she marched away from the buffet, her plate only half full.

“Mrs. Thalberg!” she called. “Got a moment?”

Knowing they might need a referee—­but was he objective?—­he followed Lyndsay to where the three widows and her dad were busy eating barbecue.

“Want us to make room for you two?” Mrs. Palmer asked.

Will did a double take on seeing the birthday balloon print all over her dress.

“No, that's okay,” Lyndsay said, “but I have a question about . . . something you distributed today.”

Mrs. Ludlow regally glanced around. “No one seems to be paying attention. Did you like our second effort?”

“Uh . . . sure. You all know I appreciate your support, right?”

Mrs. Thalberg looked at Will. “So now your young man knows, too?”

Will felt conspicuous, but he nodded.

“Perfect,” Mrs. Thalberg continued. “Just wait until you see what we have planned for the day that Lyndsay reveals her secret—­you'll be so proud!”

Lyndsay's eyes widened, but Will detected the excitement she seemed to be trying to hide.

“Can't you tell me what it is?” Lyndsay asked.

“We don't want to do that in case there is a technical problem,” Mrs. Ludlow said. “You understand.”

Lyndsay glanced at him and he shrugged. She put on a smile. “Okay, then, I trust you all. And thank you so much.”

Will followed her back to the buffet line, where she finished selecting food, her expression pensive.

“
Do
you trust them?” he asked softly.

“I know they honestly have my best interests at heart.” She searched his gaze with her own. “Do you think I'm making a mistake? That I should insist they stop?”

“It's your career.”

“But I've connected you to it, haven't I?” she asked sadly.

He didn't say anything.

“We need to talk, Will. After the birthday party, okay?”

He nodded, wondering if she was going to apologize again—­which wasn't necessary. But maybe there was no point in delaying his own discussion with her. So they sat through party games, where the adults took turns reading nursery rhymes in silly voices, puppet play for Livvie, and blowing bubbles. Then it was time for the gifts and the cake, and even after Livvie retired for the evening, the party continued, patio heaters lit for warmth, lantern lights glowing softly all around them as ­couples danced.

Lyndsay met his gaze. “Let's go for a walk, Will, okay?”

They walked side by side, not touching, heading behind the house, where Sandy Thalberg had created beautiful gardens. There were lights strung in a few trees, enough to see by and make things romantic. He gestured to a bench and Lyndsay sat down.

“Lyndsay—­”

“Wait, I need to say something first. I've been doing a lot of thinking these last ­couple days. I know things can never be the same after how I've . . . infringed on your privacy with my book. I've made you uncomfortable, and I'm frankly mortified by it. It's not fair to drag this out any longer, when we both knew where this was headed from the beginning. I think we should stop seeing each other, Will.”

She finally paused and took a deep breath. Surprised, Will studied her expression in the gloom of twilight, saw her sorrow, but also her determination. The fact that she beat him to the same conclusion should make him feel better, but it didn't. She was the first woman to really understand him, he realized, to understand what he was capable of—­and what he was not. It was a scary moment, this connection deeper than he was used to.

“Okay, so you're not saying anything,” she said with exasperation.

The sadness in her voice was like a physical hurt inside him, which should prove this was the right decision for both of them.

“I'm sorry it has to end this way,” he finally said, taking her hand.

She looked down at their joined hands for a moment, then gave him a crooked smile. “I'm not sure I know what you mean. How else was it going to end? Unless you mean you wish you would have done the breaking up.”

“You know that's not true. I never wanted to hurt you, Lyndsay, which was part of the reason I hesitated about dating you.”

“It was worth the risk, at least to me.” She squeezed his hand once, let it go, and slapped her hands to her thighs as she rose.

He followed her and took her arm when she would have walked away. “You may not believe me, Lyndsay, but I'm really going to miss you.”

They stared at each other for a long moment.

She cupped his face with a trembling hand. “I'm not just going to miss you, Will. I'm going to ache for you. I've fallen in love with you.”

He let out his breath, leaning his face briefly against her hand. That was a stab of pain he hadn't expected.

“I learned things about you that made my feelings change into love,” she said. “That you still grieve for a girl who died long ago—­”

He stiffened.

“That's a tragedy and testament to your loyalty all at the same time. To ­people who think you can never love a woman—­they're wrong. You loved Brittany. And you care about the kids in your community, even if you don't want kids yourself. You give of yourself even when you don't mean to—­which is what your brother Chris keeps pointing out by admiring your rescue exploits. You're loyal to your family; that's why it's so sad that you're trying desperately to never have one of your own. I hope you rethink that someday, Will. I hope you find a way to let Brittany rest in peace.”

She stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek, then walked away, disappearing into the darkness past the house.

Will remained alone for a few minutes, reminding himself that being alone was the choice he made.
Forever
being alone, even when he finally continued dating. It was what he deserved. Lyndsay had it all wrong about Brittany.
Brittany
was at peace—­it was he who never could be.

S
aturday morning sucked, as far as Lyndsay was concerned. She'd cried herself to sleep after breaking it off with Will the night before—­it wasn't as if she'd expected him to beg her to remain his girlfriend, but it still hurt worse than any breakup she'd ever had.

Since her face was still puffy and her eyes bloodshot, she decided to go for a run and get exercise out of the way, only to see Matias Gonzalez riding his bike down the road to the Sweetheart Ranch. This was the Saturday before the science fair—­she knew for certain that his poster and display weren't finished. She felt disappointed that Matias wasn't taking it seriously, like all their discussions hadn't meant anything. Will certainly knew how important it was to the boy's grade—­Lyndsay had rattled on enough about it. She hoped he sent Matias home.

But she wasn't about to chase after him and find out what was going on.

Her mood improved when she got home to find a large box on her front step. It was from her publisher, and she practically squealed with joy to open it and see her author copies, book after book with her name on it, the title,
A Cowboy in Montana,
embossed and foiled. She had one copy already, but this . . . this was a whole box. She stared at it and let more tears come, but this time they were tears of joy and amazement and pride. She'd written this book.

Fortified and renewed in this new career, she took a shower, then got back to what was once again the most important thing in her life—­her writing. Cody's brother needed his own happy ending, even if she didn't see one happening for herself.

W
ill was limping when he came into his parents' kitchen. It was late afternoon, and he'd spent his day up in the mountains, leading pack horses laden with salt blocks to leave out for the cattle. Silver had been startled by a fox, danced sideways, and hit a fence post, slamming Will's ankle hard. He'd be black and blue for days, he knew, and it was already swollen. Like his mood could get any blacker, considering he should be relieved Lyndsay had dumped him. He'd iced the ankle, showered, but there'd been nothing for dinner in his fridge, so he'd come over to see what his parents had—­

And found his mom with a tall glass of wine on the patio, staring out at the mountains, a half-­empty bottle next to her.

She saw Will, and her guilty expression was all the evidence he needed. He limped over and sat down next to her.

“What's wrong with you?” Faith asked cautiously when he didn't speak.

“Hurt my ankle up in the mountains. It'll get better. What's wrong with you?” he asked pointedly.

She stared at the glass, swirling it for a moment before taking a sip. “It takes the edge off, and I'm under a lot of stress.”

“What stress?” Will asked. “We all want to take the load off you. What can we do?”

“Stop acting like there's an easy fix to everything.”

“I didn't say—­”

­“People told me that parenthood never ended, that little kids had little problems and big kids had big problems.”

“What big problems? Chris is getting married, for God's sake. This should be a time to celebrate. We're all healthy.”

“Are you? Are you
mentally
healthy, Will?”

He stiffened. “Excuse me? Are
you
talking to
me
about mental health?” And then he spoke without thinking, the last ­couple days' tension spewing out. “Perhaps if you got your head out of the mystical clouds and maybe got some basic counseling to figure out why you're looking for answers in a bottle—­” And then he really heard himself and broke off, horrified.

Faith gaped at him, her eyes bright with tears.

“Mom, I'm so sorry,” he began. “I don't know what I—­”

“I'll tell you what problems I'm having, and I don't need a counselor to figure them out,” she said. “Do you know what it's like to have one son go on and on about his wedding, a joyous time in his life that'll never come again, while another son decided at
seventeen
that he'd never marry, that a dead girl was the only love he'd ever have?”

Will felt himself pale. “Mom, it's not like that.”

“No? Then what's it like? And let's not forget that Daniel is unhappy with his life and I don't know why, that your sister felt like she had to get away from home instead of coming back after she'd been gone nine months at college”—­her voice broke on a sob—­“which is utterly stupid for me to be so upset about, because she's growing up and needs her independence and wants to share it with me, but I'm wallowing in self-­pity and—­what did you say?—­looking for answers in a bottle.” She threw her wineglass, and it shattered on the stone patio. Putting her face into her hands, she wept, her shoulders shuddering.

“Mom.”

Will didn't know what to do except drop to his knees and put his arms around her. She clung to him, and they rocked together for a long minute.

He glanced up to see his dad standing in the doorway, face stark white and full of helpless sorrow. Joe came to them and put a hand on his wife's shoulder. When she saw him, her sobs increased anew as she wrapped her arms around his waist, and he bent over her.

Will stood up, letting his dad take over. He backed up step by step, watching them, feeling useless and sorrowful.

Had he really caused his mom such worry all these years?