Love Somebody Like You (13 page)

“I want to talk about rodeo,” Robin said firmly. “Everyone keeps changing the subject.” She turned to Sally. “I can't believe you quit barrel racing. Why did you do that?”

Chapter Ten

Sally gazed at the bright-eyed girl who sat to her right. “I quit because I got married, Robin.” And that was enough of that story. She took a sip of wine. This bubbly stuff went down far too easily.

The twelve-year-old frowned. “People don't quit jobs because they get married. Mom didn't, Cassidy didn't.”

It depended on who they married.

Robin was continuing. “Grandma Sheila didn't, Gramma Brooke didn't—”

When it seemed like the girl would go on forever, Sally broke in. “Rodeo involves a lot of travel. It doesn't work so well for married people.” When Pete had proposed, she hadn't known how much her life would change. But she'd quickly found out.

“Unless they're both in rodeo,” Ben put in. “Otherwise, people are separated much of the year. That's real hard on a relationship.”

His handsome face was serious, and Sally wondered if he was thinking of his ex-girlfriend in Alberta. She also wondered when he'd be ready to settle down and what kind of woman he'd end up with. Not a buckle bunny; someone more down-to-earth. Pretty, sexy, smart, and of course a horse lover. She'd be one lucky gal to be with a man like Ben.

“Yeah, I guess,” Robin said. “And Ryland Riding is cool, too. Sally, did you and your husband start it up right after you got married?”

Sally nodded. “We wanted something we could do together.” When Pete had said that, it had sounded so romantic and so grown-up. She hadn't realized he meant “alone together,” with no ties to family or friends. “And yes, Ryland Riding is cool. It's as much fun as rodeo.” Especially now that Pete was gone.

“And a lot safer,” Dave said.

She pressed her lips together. She'd been safer on Autumn Mist pelting around barrels, or driving lonely highways in the middle of the night, than being alone with her husband.

“I'm definitely going to work with horses,” Robin said. “But I haven't figured out exactly what I'll do.”

“You're twelve,” Sally said. “You have loads of time.” Though at that age, she'd known she wanted to pursue rodeo. She was sure Ben had been just as single-minded.

“I may go into my mom's business.”

“Tell Ben what your mother does.” Sally turned to smile at him, seated at her left at one end of the table. “You'll love this.” Happy to get the attention off herself, she forked up another yummy mouthful.

“Mom runs Riders Boot Camp,” Robin told Ben. “It's an intensive riding program, and it's also a charitable foundation. We give scholarships to people who'd benefit from the experience but can't afford it.”

Sally loved that “we” and knew it was true. Robin was mature for her age and was actively involved in Boots, as the family referred to it.

“Sounds great,” Ben said. “Is it therapeutic riding for people with disabilities?”

“No,” the girl answered. “We're not qualified to do that. But there's definitely a therapeutic effect. Mastering new skills, learning how to connect with horses, and enjoying the great outdoors are very beneficial.”

Sally held back a grin. The girl sounded like a promotional brochure. No doubt she'd not only memorized that brochure, but had input in creating it.

“That's for sure,” Ben said. “What a terrific idea.”

“Maybe you could come see it,” Robin said.

Dave asked, “How long will you be in town?”

Ben touched his left shoulder. “Until I can get back to roping. Two weeks, maybe.”

He was working out rigorously. This morning, Sally had seen him come back from a run. He'd had his sling on, and wore shorts and a loose tank top, ripped at the neckline so he could get it over his injured shoulder. The tank had revealed the purple bruising on his shoulder and arm, though she'd been more interested in how the sweat-soaked cotton plastered itself to one of the most finely muscled torsos she'd ever laid eyes on.

The memory sent a ripple of heat through her. She only hoped she wasn't blushing. Oh yes, the woman Ben married would be lucky indeed. Especially if he used that fine body as effectively in lovemaking as he did in every other physical activity she'd seen him perform.

Once upon a time, Sally had enjoyed sex unreservedly. Last week, she'd have said she'd never even think about sex again. But Ben had awakened something. A sensual, womanly side of her, one that had sexy thoughts. Maybe, just maybe, it was possible she might enjoy sex again one day. If so, it would have to be with a man who was patient and gentle, one she trusted totally.

Vaguely, she was aware of Dave saying that he was sure Sally appreciated Ben's help, especially with Corrie gone. And then Dave asked her, “But what will you do when Ben leaves?”

Be lonely again.
That thought struck her first, but she shoved it away. “I'm running an ad for an assistant.” She might even be able to afford one. If things worked out with Andrew and his husband, she'd have the income from lessons and perhaps down the road two new boarders.

“You know Dave and I will help out any way we can,” Cassidy said, gazing at Sally across the table.

“Me, too,” Robin chimed in.

“You have good friends,” Ben said to Sally.

“I do.” Though she hated to take their help when there was nothing she could do for them in return.

“Maybe when I'm a grown-up, I could work for you, Sally,” Robin said. “Your business will get bigger and you'll need another riding teacher.”

“I like your optimism,” Sally told her.

“Or,” the girl went on, “it would be cool to be a horse whisperer like Ty.”

“Ty?” Ben asked. “Would that be Ty Ronan, down in the Fraser Valley?”

“Yeah, he's a friend of Mom's. He's a trainer and he heals rescue horses. He sends some of them to Mom for Boots. You know him, Ben?”

“From the rodeo,” he said. “He's been one of my competitors since back when I started. Remember him, Sally?”

“I do.” Another hot young cowboy. Almost, but not quite, as sexy as Ben. If Ty Ronan was seated to her left, she doubted she'd feel a constant hum in her blood or a tingle on her skin as if he gave off a sexy energy.

“He still rides in a few local rodeos,” Ben said, “and he's still damned good. But he semi-retired several years back. Saved up his earnings, bought a spread that he and his parents run, and now he's married.”

Sally gazed at him. “That's the same kind of thing you've thought about doing, right?”

“Right.” The word came out a little rough, and Ben's jaw looked tight. Did the idea of giving up full time rodeo and living a life like Ty Ronan's bother him that much?

“Or you could run a rodeo school, Ben,” Robin said. “This girl in my class, her older brother's at rodeo school and he had to go all the way to Alberta.”

“Rodeo schools are great,” Ben said. “I've gone to a couple, over the years.”

“You'll decide what you want to do when the time's right,” Cassidy said cheerfully, raising her glass toward him in a toast.

“That's my wife. She doesn't believe in planning,” Dave said with an amused glance at her. “From my experience, it's good to have a specific goal in mind.”

“I guess that does make it easier to be motivated about saving money,” Ben said. He sounded a bit defensive.

“And about laying the groundwork, figuring out the details,” Dave said.

Sally shot Dave a narrow-eyed gaze. Why was he on Ben's case? “Everyone does things their own way,” she commented, hoping to take the pressure off Ben. “Pete and I leaped into Ryland Riding without much planning.”

“And you're recommending that course of action?” Dave's tone was light.

She wrinkled her nose at him. Dave had a pretty good idea of her precarious financial situation. If she and Pete
had
planned, and saved more money ahead of time, maybe it wouldn't always be such a struggle to stay in the black. Would there ever come a time when she didn't need every penny just to keep Ryland Riding afloat from week to week?

She resisted the impulse to check her phone again. It was set to vibrate and she'd have felt that buzzing pulse if Heather had called. Instead, she took a tiny sip of wine.

“Goals, plans.” Cassidy gave an exaggerated shiver. “Once upon a time, I lived my life all footloose and fancy-free.” She raised her flute glass and said, with a touch of nostalgia, “Those were the days.” After she took a swallow, she gazed at her husband and grinned. “Mind you, I gained way more than I lost.”

“You mean, in getting married?” Ben queried, his tone more relaxed.

“Finding Dave and Robin, a whole family here in Caribou Crossing. A home. A different perspective on life.” She winked at her husband. “I'm sure Dave would say a more mature one. And all it took was one earth-shattering diagnosis.”

“Uh . . .” Ben glanced at her uncertainly.

“Sally didn't tell you?”

Sally shook her head. No way would she share someone else's private business.

“The diagnosis,” Cassidy said, “came last September. Multiple sclerosis.” She cocked her head. “Know what that is?”

He frowned slightly. “Kind of. A good friend of my mom's has it. She was diagnosed something like five years ago. Cassidy, I'm sorry you have to deal with that.”

“Thanks. How's your mom's friend doing?”

“Pretty well, I think. I see her at the rodeo from time to time and she always comes to say hi. When I ask how she is, she says, ‘Glad for every good day.'”

Cassidy grinned. “Ain't that the truth! It's a crazy, unpredictable disease. But I have a great support team and my treatment plan is working well.”

“That must be hard,” Ben said. “The unpredictability.”

Her laugh burbled. “Says the man who rides bucking broncs? Seems to me they've got a lot in common with MS. Sometimes you win, and other times you get tossed on your butt.”

“Or shoulder,” he agreed ruefully. “Yeah, rodeo's definitely not predictable, is it, Sally?”

When he grinned at her, she could summon only a half-hearted smile. She'd dealt fine with the unpredictability of rodeo. But later she'd learned about a much scarier kind. Like when you didn't know if your husband was going to bring you flowers or backhand you across the room. She'd never figured out how to handle that kind.

“Cassidy,” she asked tentatively, “if you don't mind my asking, how do cope with the unpredictability?”

Ben shot her a startled glance, but Sally focused on the younger woman across the table.

“I put myself in control as much as I can with meds, reducing stress, and so on,” Cassidy responded. “I try to be flexible so I can adjust to whatever the disease may throw at me without letting it whip me. Perhaps toughest of all, I've learned to let others help me without feeling like I'm incompetent or weak, or I'm imposing on people.”

Sally frowned. There was another problem with letting people help. If you became dependent on them, then they had power over you.

“You have trouble with that too, don't you?” Cassidy asked. “You're proud and independent, and you hate it when you need help. That's how I was. But MS humbled me.”

Dave talked about Sally's stubborn pride, but she'd figured Pete had knocked the pride out of her. Was that true, or was it in part pride that made her so determined to be self-sufficient?

Cassidy went on. “Of course I could go it alone. But it's so much better when my family and friends are there for support. It took me a while to realize that they really wanted to do that.” She paused, then said softly, “That they think I'm worth it, that I deserve love and support. But they finally convinced me.” She reached out her hands, one to Dave on her left and one over the table to Robin. Her husband and stepdaughter grasped them.

Sally gazed at the three of them linked together. A team. A family.

Pete had taken her away from her family. He'd said he loved her, yet had hurt her. Though she'd tried to control everything that she could—like how she dressed and behaved, what she cooked, and when she put dinner on the table—somehow she often got it wrong. She was too stupid to remember the rules he'd made. Or so on edge that she made mistakes.

Most of the time, she had believed it was her fault. He said it was. Said that he hated to punish her, but she made him do it. That it was for her own good and the good of their marriage. But sometimes she'd wondered . . . Did Pete keep changing the rules? Did he try to make her feel stupid and incompetent? To feel—to
be
—dependent?

And if so, what was wrong with her, that she'd let him do it? What had he seen in her that had made him believe she'd let him do it?

She'd had no one to talk to, to offer perspective. No one to ask for support even if her embarrassment, insecurity, and self-doubt would have allowed her to.

Pete had been dead for three years now, and she still hadn't figured out what to believe.

Something nudged her sock-clad left foot. She jerked her head up and saw Ben watching her with an expression of concern.

Cassidy, Dave, and Robin had unlinked hands and returned to their food.

“That's enough of a serious subject,” Cassidy said. “It's a good day, I feel great, and it's wonderful having you guys here for dinner.” She focused on Ben. “This is because of you. We've asked Sally over so many times, but she always has some excuse.”

“She does, does she?” He gave Sally a teasing grin.

She made a face at him.

Under the table his sock-clad foot nudged hers again.