When You Fall... (29 page)

“We wanted his love, more than anything; wanted to make him proud,” August said.

“The reason we were so mean to you,” Madison said.

“Maybe we can start over,” August said.

“Why didn’t you tell them?” Carter asked, turning to face Gloria.

“He asked me not to. He said he would tell you when the time was right. I can tell you that he never had the intention of creating the chasm that you girls felt for each other, and he wasn’t even aware of it, really. You know your father,” she said, looking at Carter.

“He’s not my father, and while I understand your behavior, I can’t forget about it.”

“You didn’t go out of your way either, Miss I-have-a-chip-on-my-shoulder,” June said, looking directly at Carter, all hard-nosed. “And just for the record, it was not my idea to drive out here and apologize,” she said.

“Thanks for coming, then, those of you that wanted to. I’m tired. You guys lock up when you leave,” Carter said, as she put her cup on the counter and left them sitting around the table.

#

Wednesday

This was what she loved, Carter thought as she watched Grey move around the round pen following her instructions. She stood in the middle, under a beautiful blue sky, her favorite cumulus clouds floating above.

She took in a deep breath of fresh air and moved the stick in her hand in a circle. It was a sign for Grey to start moving around the pen. Of course he moved to the right this time. She’d asked him to, nicely, hadn’t she? All it took was the twirl of her stick. She twirled it faster now and watched as Grey moved from a walk to a trot. She loved this guy.

She’d spent yesterday working with him, introducing this skill—basic groundwork for getting him to obey her instructions. She’d wanted to be sure of her training skills before she moved on to Racer’s Dream, the prima donna.

She held up one finger now, and Grey stopped and turned to face her. He’d learned his lesson well. She relaxed her body and smiled, calling out his name. He walked over to her, laid his head in her chest. She rubbed him. “Good boy,” she said.

She’d been outside most of this week, doing work, and anything that would take her mind off of the big revelation followed by the big apology. She didn’t feel much up to receiving any more apologies.

Being out here was so much better. It was healing, this work was. In between feeding and cleaning out stalls she’d spent her time with the men in her life—horses and donkeys—and if she were lucky, maybe she could swing in some play time with Rafe; not that he was a man in her life, at least not in a relationship way. He was a good friend, a second male friend. Bentley had been her first.

She rubbed Grey and smiled again. She had nothing to prove to them. She had their loyalty simply by asking for it, just for taking care of them. Working out here made her hopeful and thankful that she’d found her place at last. And she was sad that it wouldn’t be here.

If dealing with people could be so easy. What was she to do with her sisters and her dad? Forgive them? Easier said than done. She didn’t want to forgive.

She smiled at all this horseflesh at her disposal, this beautiful creature that wanted nothing more than to please her. What a good guy he was. In his own way, he was telling her that she mattered to him. She and Grey were so alike really, only wanting to please those they loved. She rubbed him again and sighed. This she loved, this she could do forever, right here at this moment. She was where she fit. The horses got her and she got them. This was where she belonged. It was home.

#

Friday

Carter was upstairs on the second floor, cleaning up; nothing too strenuous, just freeing up some dust from the furniture.

There were five bedrooms upstairs, all off the main hallway, spaced nicely between. She walked over to the window and looked out. She was facing the back and had a nice view of Rafe’s property from here. She wondered what he was up to and then saw his truck pull in. She hadn’t seen him since that night in the barn. Was that already a week ago?

It was late morning. He was probably getting back from his egg delivery detail. He turned and looked over at her home. She stepped away from the window, not wanting to be caught.

She leaned back, peeking along the edge of the window. He was still standing there, thinking what? She wondered. He turned and headed to his own barn. She debated with herself before coming to a decision. She pulled her bandana from her hair and took off for the stairs, grabbed her keys from the kitchen table, locked up and headed over to Rafe’s.

His was the only auto parked in the yard. She hoped that meant he was alone. Hate to have to be interrupted by a worker. She was developing this fondness for barns, although this would be the first time in his. She made her way over to Rafe’s with a smile on her face and a bounce in her step.

#

Rafe stood just inside his barn, weighing the merits of skipping lunch, and maybe heading over to Carter’s. She was there. He’d seen her car parked out back. He could go over. He hadn’t seen her since that night. Thought she might need a little space, but that marriage proposal had tripped him up. The speed at which he’d offered it, not to mention the speed at which she’d turned him down.

Make up your mind, he told himself. Either go or stay, but do something other than stand here staring into space. He turned to leave, his decision made. He shook his head and laughed at the havoc one Carter Woodson was wreaking in his life.

“Where are you going?” she said, standing in the doorway of his barn.

He smiled, just standing there like some lovesick idiot.

“Would you believe I was headed to your place?” he said.

“Oh yeah? For what? she said, sauntering toward him, pulling her t-shirt up and over her body.

He smiled and reached for her as she got close, unsnapped her jeans—more of those skinny kind she’d have to wiggle out of. It was always nice to watch her wiggle.

#

“What… oh… wait…” he moaned. It hit him, causing his body to curl inward. He moaned again loudly into the room at the power of his climax and from the loss of her body surrounding him just as he’d reached it. He loved this, with her, the force of it at the end. He lay back on the hay-covered ground, eyes closed. He needed a few minutes to catch his breath.

“Carter,” he said, when he could talk. He opened his eyes to find her on her knees, one hand on her ass while she dug around in the hay with her other.

“What are you doing?” he asked, sitting up, body resting on his elbows, shaking to clear his head.

“Something bit me,” she said, eyes focused on the area in front of her. “I’m looking for it. It could be one of those brown recluse spiders. They can kill, you know. You swell up like a watermelon. I saw it on TV. God, what an ugly way to die.”

“What?” he asked again, standing up now and walking over to the trash to dispose of his condom.

“I said something stung me,” she said, and he could hear the distress in her voice this time. He walked over to her and watched her frantically searching for something with her right hand; the other still covered her ass.

“Let me see,” he said, pushing her hand away so he could get a look.

“No.”

“Come on, Carter. Let me take a look. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

She ignored him.

“Carter,” he said again, squatting to sit beside her.

“Fine,” she said, removing her hand.

“Where?”

She pointed to her butt, and he moved in to get a better look.

“All brown as far as I can see. It looks fine. I don’t see anything,” he said, his finger moving over the affected area. “Does that hurt?” he asked.

“No.”

“Are you allergic to anything?”

“Not that I know of. I’ve gotten stung before by a wasp,” she said.

“Did you have a reaction to it?”

“Don’t think so.”

“How do you feel?”

Carter stood up, rubbing her hand over the offended part, assessing. “I’m okay,” she said, as she tried to glance over her shoulder.

“Let me put something on it, just in case,” he said, standing up. He walked out of the stall for a second.

“My sisters and Gloria stopped by this week,” Carter said, changing the subject as she stood waiting for him to return, hoping to cover the weirdness of this moment.

“What is that?” she asked, looking at the bottle in his hand as he returned to stand behind her again, bending down so his face was level with her butt.

“Benadryl. You ready?” he said, trying not to smile at her awkwardness.

“Don’t you dare laugh,” she said, still trying to peek over her shoulder. “Hey, that’s cold,” she said a few seconds later.

“Quit complaining. You can handle a little bit of cold spray. If I can handle pepper spray, you can handle this,” he said.

“I see your point.”

He kissed the spot and a few other places before standing up.

“What did you and your sisters talk about?” he asked.

“They apologized to me. Most of them did anyway. Seems they hadn’t known,” she said.

“And your response was…?” he asked, pulling her close, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“I didn’t apologize, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He was quiet as he continued to hold her.

“I know, I know. You don’t have to say it. I know. It wasn’t just them. I played a part in it, too. All of us were searching for something from him, pushing each other out of the way for whatever small thing he could give. Such a waste,” she said.

“Yep,” he said.

“I will, eventually. I think… maybe,” she said.

“It’s your life.”

“I need time,” she said. He remained silent, and seemed content to just hold her. And she didn’t mind being held. Loved it, actually, his body all masculine and hard next to hers.

“What am I going to do when you get married?” she said.

“Find some other Mr. Bentley Now.”

“You’ll miss me,” she said.

“Meaningless sex with you I will miss, yes,” he said.

It was one answer, she guessed, although her stomach turned at the thought. It did that a lot lately. He asked her that one time to marry him, and she didn’t know if he had been serious; she didn’t think so. Maybe he should marry her. He could do worse; a conclusion she was slowly coming around to.

#

Saturday

Carter sat in the kitchen, waiting for her to put in an appearance.
Her
was the new property manager, one Courtney Morgan. Her dad had called her yesterday, a reminder that Courtney would be arriving today; not that she needed reminding. Fine. Whatever. She just held the phone to her ear and listened as he talked.

The doorbell rang and she stood up to answer it, running her hands over her suit. She’d pulled it out of her closet, deciding to dress professionally, hoping her attitude would follow suit. It was better than a t-shirt and jeans, or the dress she’d worn to Bentley’s wedding, which she brought along as a reminder.

“Hi. You must be Courtney Morgan,” Carter said, opening the door wide, extending her hand while schooling her face into a polite mask. “I’m Carter Woodson. Carl is my father.” That was not true, but that was family business, not to be shared with the world, Carter thought.

“Hi, Carter,” Courtney said, shaking Carter’s hand.

“Come in. Do you have any luggage? My father told me you’d be living here with me as you prepare the house for sale,” Carter said.

“Yes,” she said, following her inside.

“You need any help bringing it in? Carter asked.

“No, I thought I’d bring it in later. I thought we could talk first, get to know each other, set some boundaries.”

“Do you drink coffee? Want any breakfast?” Carter asked. She’d set out a plate of croissants and fruit earlier.

“Do you have tea? I’m not much of a coffee drinker,” Courtney said.

“Sure. Have a seat,” Carter said, pulling out her tea fixings and setting the teapot on the stove.

“You’re not what I expected,” Carter said.

Courtney smiled, or perhaps it could have been considered a grimace. Carter couldn’t be sure.

“You’re younger than I thought you’d be,” Carter said.

She did that smile-grimace thing again as she scanned the kitchen area, looking out the back windows.

“You know what? On second thought, I think I’d rather take a look at the property first. I’m not really in the mood for tea or chit-chat. I would like to change out of this dress and have you give me a tour. Your father said you’d be available to help me before and during the sale.”

“Sure. I will. I can,” Carter said, striving to appear unaffected by the abrupt change in plans.

“Okay then. I’ll get my things from the car. Which room shall I take?” she asked.

“Take my great-grandfather’s room. It’s the only one downstairs,” Carter said.

“Downstairs sounds fine. Let’s meet back here in say, fifteen minutes.”

“Fifteen minutes it is.”

Efficient was an apt description for one Courtney Morgan. Taller than Carter—close to six feet—buttoned up and professional, pretty—okay, make that gorgeous—underneath. Her hair was corralled into a loose bun; a few strands had escaped, but overall most everything was in its place. Carter was glad she’d dressed professionally, too.

Courtney strolled into the house a few minutes later with her suitcase rolling along behind her, reminding Carter of the old-school stewardess, before the airlines relaxed the dress requirements.

“Follow me,” Carter said, leading her to the master suite downstairs.

“Thanks. I’ll be ready in ten,” she said again, looking at her watch.

“Okay, ten it is,” Carter said.

Courtney closed the door and Carter headed upstairs to change.

#

“Ready,” Carter said, glancing at Courtney who stood next to her with a notebook in her hand. She had changed into jeans, a buttoned-up work shirt, and work boots.

“I am.”

“Where would you like to start?” Carter asked.

“You decide. I’ll follow along.”

“Okay. We can start in here. This is the living room. My great-grandfather wanted the house to face the river, which can be seen from here.” Carter said, pointing to the large plate-glass windows that did indeed provide a magnificent view of the river. “The house has had two major renovations. The last one occurred before I was born. The second was the largest, and the windows were enlarged in both the front and back of the house, providing the view you see now. The porches were also screened in at that time,” she said, leading Courtney out the front door, down the steps, and over to the river.