The Art of Love (The Windswept Saga) (44 page)

“Sounds great.  I’ll see you then.
”  He hit a button and returned the phone to his shirt pocket, seemingly startled when he noted her presence.  “I didn’t hear you come in.”

She nodded.  “I’m sorry I interrupted you.”

He shook it off.  “You didn’t.  I was just talking with Anne.”

“Is that her?” Taylor inquired, forgetting her own misery for a moment.  “The
girl you love.”

She watched him blush unexpectedly, his face and neck turning red.  “Maybe.  We’ll see.  Anyway, I just wanted to let her know I’d be coming home sometime after the holiday.”

“You must be enjoying yourself here.”

He nodded.  “Your mom is a
lot of fun to be around.  She’s out with some friends, by the way, discussing church stuff.  Anyway, this trip has also been cathartic.  I could finally put some of my failings into perspective, knowing that I did the best I could by you and Riley.”

“If on
ly it were that easy for me,” she replied.

His eyebrow lifted almost imperceptibly.  “Uh-oh.  Pull up a chair and tell me about it.”

“I’d rather not.”

“I’ll just keep badgering you,” he rejoined.  “And if that doesn’t work, Miss Alice could be apprised of
the situation.”

“No!” she answered sharply.  “She already thinks I’m a doofus for spending this long away from Chandler.  You think I want
her knowing we’ve ended things?”

Worry lines formed around his eyes and mouth.  “I hope you’re not serious.”

“I don’t know,” she answered, throwing her hands up in frustration.  “We left things ambiguous.”

“The Labor Day Rodeo is coming up,” he reminded her.  “Aren’t you supposed to be there, cheering him on?”

Taylor rested her head between both hands and sighed.  “I’m probably the last person he’d want to see there.  The very last.”

***

“Pull.”

Mark glanced at him warily from his perch.  Chandler was on the back of a horse—not his, but a younger mount—clenching his rope and his teeth in anger, frustration, and regret.  T
he day’s events, more or less a secret Chandler was keeping—somewhere in his stomach, from the looks of things—flashed across his eyes like a warning sign.  Mark was reluctant to act.  He was reluctant to help.  He was scared to do nothing, though.

“Pu
ll, dammit, pull!  And don’t give me any lip.”

Mark grudgingly opened the gate and watched Chandler take off after the calf.  He drew close, flung himself to the ground, and stumbled hard when his boot got hung momentarily in the stirrup.  Calf and horse both
ran away, leaving a cursing, dirty cowboy in their dusty wake.

“Dammit,” he screamed through gritted teeth.  Mark had leapt off the fence and was at his side in a matter of seconds.  He grabbed Chandler by the wrist and yanked him to his feet.

“Dust yourself off,” he said.  “It happens.”

“Not to me,” he practically spat back.  “I have to win this year.”

“And what’s special about this year?”

“It’s my best chance to win,” he argued, wiping the dirt from his hat and replacing it atop his head.  “It’s my only
chance to…”

Mark watched worriedly as his friend’s words trailed off.  “Chance to do what?  Prove you’re a man?  Prove you can live without her?  Prove you’re a stupid fool who’s going to die without the woman you love?”

“Screw you, Mark.  I could have any of a hundred women if I put my mind to it.”

“But you won’t put your mind to it,” Mark challenged him, “because you don’t want another woman.  You want her.”  He stared at Chandler in profile.  “That’s why I’ve hardly ever seen you interested in dating.  T
he woman you wanted, you couldn’t have.  And now that you can have her, you don’t want her.  You need a good ass-kicking.”

“I’m warning you, Mark,” he said.  His voice came out so non-threatening, absent of malice, that it was almost a joke.  “Keep your no
se out of this.”

He lifte
d his hands in defeat.  “Go get your horse, cowboy.  I’ve got a calf to round up.”  They resumed their practice, Mark watching in reticence as Chandler tied the calf up time and time again.  There was nothing cruel in his methods, but it was there in his gaze as he worked efficiently, counting to the silent clock in his head.  Chandler could keep time as good as any stopwatch.  Mark shook his head and frowned.  He suddenly wished he knew how to meddle, bend things to his will—but he wasn’t Chandler.

He was happy.

***  

Several days later—they all ran together on the ranch—Mark was in the tack room, polishing his saddle, when one of the younger ranch hands knocked against the door jamb.

“Hunter,” he said, looking up.  “What can I do for you?”

“Mr. Jasper, there’s a lady here to see you.”

Mark smiled.  “Mr. Jasper is my father.  It’s okay if you want to use my first name.”

“Sorry, Mark,” he said nervously.

“Spill it,” he commanded gently.

“It’s Chandler’s girlfriend.”

“Oh,” Mark replied.  “Send her in.  And, thank you, Hunter.”

“You’re welcome, sir.”  After a brief exchange, he saw her through the doorway.  She looked about as forlorn as her other half, only she wore it a little better.  Grit shone through in her movements.

“I hope I’m not interrupting you.”

Mark tossed his rag aside and shook his head.  “Not at all. I’m not sure how much of a help I can be to you, though.  I hope you don’t expect me to act as a go-between.”

“No,” she replied briskly.  “It’s not that.”  She anxiously pushed a strand of hair away from her forehead.  “I’m going to try for honesty here.  No one is closer to Chandler than you are, Mark.  Not even his siblings can read his emotions and thoughts like you can.  I’m sure he knows things about you that even Christa doesn’t.”

Mark nodded somewhat reluctantly.  “Yes.  Chandler and I have a lot in common.  We share a similar world-view, we like a lot of the same activities.  I can count him not just as my friend but also my brother.  That’s a great thing to have
.”  He cleared his throat.  “I’m ashamed to admit it, but I spent a lot of years resenting him.  Everything came so easy to Chandler—school, friends, even that damned growth spurt.”

“You were always better at ranching,” she conjectured.

“Maybe,” he answered with a wink.  “Anyway, he’s also this skilled renaissance man, able to paint or draw a masterpiece at the drop of a hat.  Hell, I once saw him sculpt a vase out of raw clay.  The art of love, though—that’s never come easy to him, until you were involved.”

She considered that briefly.  “If you could describe Chandler in one word, what would it be?”

“Loyal,” Mark replied before she’d finished her question.  “Which makes him sound like a dog, I guess.  Man’s best friend.”  He laughed at the allegory he’d provided.  “Chandler is incredibly loyal to his family and friends.  He looks at you with tunnel vision, Taylor.  You might as well be the only other woman on this earth.  You’re certainly the only woman for him.”   

“Thank you for your honesty,” sh
e said, wondering if she should shake his hand or something else.  That all felt too formal, though.  They were in a barn, full of hay, horses, and the accompanying smells.

“You’re welcome,” he said with another nod.  “I don’t resent Chandler anymore.  I h
ave a beautiful woman who loves me without question, and two of the finest boys a man could ever sire.”  Masculine pride was evident in the softening of his face.  “I don’t have to tell you how special it is to be a parent.”  She nodded in agreement.  “I’d like Chandler to be happy.”

“I’d like that, too.”

“You’re just not sure how to do it.”

“Exactly.”

Mark took in a deep breath.  “He’s spending all of his free time out here, preparing for the rodeo.”  He stared at her with unveiled curiosity.  “You’re planning to be there?”

“Yes.”

He hooked an arm upward and scratched the back of his head.  “Town’s busy, but I think I can finagle it.  Chase always reserves the biggest table for us at The Barbeque House, and we stuff ourselves silly as a reward for working so hard.  If I make sure he heads home directly from the celebratory meal, can I count on you to be waiting there on his front porch, looking like his dream come true?”

Taylor laughed unevenly.  “Tall order, but I’ll see what I can do.”  She turned to go be
fore Mark’s voice stopped her.  She glanced back over her shoulder and met his eyes.

“Don’t let him talk you out of loving him.  If the shoe was on the other foot, I know he couldn’t make that decision.”  She nodded and left.  When Mark knew she was out of
earshot, he picked up his phone and dialed.  “Chandler,” he said without pause, “I’m going to put our plan into action, and I want no lip from you.”

***   

“You’re such a sweetheart to help out, you know that?”

Chandler looked up at his sister.  He’d jus
t given Matt a bath and was snapping him into a set of pajamas.  “Mm-hmm,” came his brief reply.

“Why don’t I ever see you and Taylor at my house anymore?”

Her question snapped his head around.  He placed Matt in his crib and sighed.  “Because I’m the idiot who broke up with her.  Good, that’s out of the way now.”

Christa looked at him with unvarnished exasperation.  “Chandler Adams, do you want to die alone and miserable?”

“Yes,” he replied with a curt nod.  “You’ve discovered my big secret, but there’s no prize for winning.  Sorry, but thanks for playing.”  He watched as she tended to Max, whom she’d just returned from a doctor’s visit.  He had been running a fever but he checked out fine after a series of tests—hence Chandler being left alone with the baby.  It was only half as painful as he’d figured.  “I’ve been getting enough c-r-a-p from your husband about my actions.  He called earlier to rip into me again.  So, please, don’t join in the fun.”  He followed her outside the kids’ room, leaving the door open a crack.

“I won’t,” she promised, “but that doesn’t mean I won’t continue to worry about you.
”

He gave her a brotherly hug.  “Believe me, no one feels worse about my colossal screw-up than me.  My actions and words were so poor, though, that
there may be no coming back from this.”

“Uh-huh.”  She gripped his chin and maneuvered his face in every direction.  “Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?”

He couldn’t help but laugh.  “I know,” he joked, “I’m the world’s last remaining optimist.  But Mark seems to think I can come back from this, too.  He’s in my corner.”

“We’re all in your corner,” she corrected.  “And so is Taylor.  Just don’t forget that.”

“I won’t,” he vowed.  “Not again.”

Chapter 29

The rodeo seemed to come quicker
each year.  Before another breath could be drawn, they headed into town as a collective, four generations of family, piling into the arena with aplomb and greeting old friends as they went.  CJ and Mark were supervising the riders and animals as per usual, even though they weren’t entrants.  They did their best to pump Chandler up before his big ride, stopping short of slapping him around.

“Ride hard, little brother,” CJ teased, “but keep your eye on the mark.  Don’t swing out of the saddle to
o early.”

“S
ome of those cows are tricky,” Mark reminded him.  “Not at all what we’re used to.”

Chandler did one last check of his horse, his gloves, and his rope.  “I’ve got it all under control, men.  Never seen the calf yet I couldn’t rope.”

CJ looked at Mark amusedly.  “Arrogant son of a gun, ain’t he?”

Mark turned toward Chandler and grinned.  “Only when he’s got a job to do.”

Chandler nodded and focused his concentration completely on the task at hand.  The gates opened and he took off after the calf, getting a head of steam and flinging himself down at just the precise moment.  He had the thing snared and secured against his stomach before he drew another breath.  He was covered in dirt, winded, mentally drained, but those weeks of extra practice had paid off.  The cheering crowd buoyed him to his feet and he waved to them.

As he exited the arena, CJ slapped him so hard on the back he nearly doubled over.  Mark hooked an arm around his chest and righted him.  “Steady as you go, cowboy.  There’s someone over there
waiting for you.”  He hitched his chin toward the pathway between the corrals and horse trailers.  Taylor and Liam were standing there, dressed in Western wear.  She looked far more comfortable than he did, but he managed to look passable. 

“We’ll be with
the horses and cows,” CJ said, but Chandler barely heard him as the rest of the world vanished.  He hadn’t seen Taylor much over the past month—two times, tops—and she took away the rest of his oxygen.  He stood there, mouth barely open, struggling for the right thing to say.