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KIERA SPUN WHEN FRANK grabbed her hand. She’d known he wouldn’t walk away if she told him things couldn’t work between them. She’d known she’d have to give him reasons. She’d also known he’d never get physical. Proving her point, he released her. Stepped away, gave her space.
“Why, Kiera?”
The hurt reflected in his eyes tugged at her heart. “It’s not you, Frank. It’s me. My baggage.”
“Can we talk about it?”
She got into her car, popped the lock on the passenger side. Waved him around. He climbed in, rotating his hat through his fingers.
Kiera tossed her purse onto the backseat. She stared out the windshield. “I told you about my friend. Ben.”
“I remember.”
“I didn’t tell you everything.” Kiera went on as if she hadn’t heard Frank. “Ben was more than a friend. We met freshman year in college. By our junior year, we were making wedding plans. I loved him. He had a stubborn streak, but everyone has their quirks and flaws. He was rarely stubborn about important things, and he was willing to talk out the things where our opinions differed. When he got the cat scratch, he didn’t say anything. Not to me, not to anybody. By the time he admitted—to himself—that he might need medical attention, it was too late. I didn’t even know he’d been admitted to the hospital until he’d been there a full day.”
“Must have been tough,” Frank said.
“Tough? I sat by his bed and watched him die. I don’t think tough is the right word.”
“Kiera, I understand. I was in the army. I’ve watched people die. People I was close to. People I felt responsible for. You can’t put your life on hold. You have to move on. I’m not Ben. I’m not going to die. I went to the doctor. Got the treatment. I’m following orders.”
“Which you wouldn’t have done if I hadn’t taken you to the ER. All I can see when I look at you is Ben lying in a hospital bed. And wonder if the next time something happens to you, you’ll wait until it’s too late to do anything about it.” Her voice cracked, and she struggled to control it. She’d been over this in her head so many times. She shouldn’t be having trouble.
Frank wasn’t sitting next to you then.
Frank was silent, so she went on. “We’ve only known each other a few days. Circumstances were a bit ... unusual ... but I still wonder what would have happened if we’d met at the resort in Breckenridge instead of over a cow I hit. If we’d have had a quick fling. If you hadn’t brought back memories of Ben.” She exhaled a shaky breath. “Or if Ben is the reason I’ve never wanted another relationship.
“I think it’s best if you and I agree we’ve had some interesting times, enjoyed each other’s company, and yes, shared hot kisses, but there’s no way things can go further. You’re a cowboy. I can’t get on a horse without a panic attack. You work on a ranch out in the boonies. I want to work all over the country, even the world someday. I think it’s best if we say good-bye now, while things are good between us. Please. Don’t make this harder than it is.”
Frank sat there for an interminable moment, the silence like a stack of hay bales between them. He pulled on the door handle. “Good luck with your photography.”
The door opened, then slammed shut. And he was gone.
It was what she wanted. Wasn’t it?
Kiera sat in the car for a few minutes, blinking back unshed tears. Telling herself she had a brand-new life in front of her, she drove to the motel.
Reminding herself she was supposed to be pursuing a new career, Kiera went to her laptop, searched for places to take pictures. They wouldn’t tell the same kind of a story as her ranch images, but she thought she should gather as many different places in Colorado as she could, and once she started taking pictures, she’d find a theme. Or stumble across another story, the way she’d run into her cowboy project. Literally. She had a few days before Madelynn’s funeral.
Kiera pulled up a map, ran a few searches for places that would offer photographic opportunities, planned a route. Given her limited time, she found a convenient motel to use as a home base. Jittery with anticipation, she called and made a reservation.
She could do this. She was going to do this.
A check of her email showed a message from Sabrina flagging the images she wanted to use in her brochure. Knowing Sabrina was good for the money, Kiera sent her an invoice, then spent the next hour processing the images.
A part of her brain was tuned into her phone, listening for incoming calls and messages. Would Frank try to get her to change her mind? Would she if he did? Was she ready for a relationship, not a fling?
When she and Frank had gone to the craft fair, working as a team, she thought she might be able to take things further with him. Now, he’d pulled the same macho crap as Ben, and ripped open all the old wounds. No, for now she was going to concentrate on becoming Kiera, the Professional Photographer. The independent professional photographer.
When Frank texted her, she silenced her phone without reading his message.
Kiera O’Leary, the independent photographer. The traveling independent photographer. She went to the bedroom to pack.
~~
FIRST THING THE NEXT morning, Frank headed for the ranch. Kiera hadn’t answered his text asking if they could meet. So, she’d been serious about breaking up, not that they were breaking up from anything more than a casual friendship.
He'd thought it might go further, hoped it might go further, but given their different lifestyles, he’d accept her decision. Still, she was the first woman he’d met in a long time who he’d thought about coming home to for the long run.
Definitely time to think about a dog.
Frank found Derek at the hitching post saddling Zephyr. “We going out today, D-Man?”
“Bryce and I are going to ride through the herds. Tim’s going to mow pasture three. You can see if you can get my tractor running better. We can’t rely on borrowing Rusty’s equipment. This loan was a special favor.”
“Will do,” Frank said.
Derek secured the last saddle strap. “Cecily and Phil are coming over after breakfast. You can be there, too.”
“Roger that. I will.”
Derek urged Zephyr into the trailer. Shadow was already loaded, and Bryce sat behind the wheel of the pickup. Derek secured the trailer and climbed into the shotgun seat.
Frank headed to the vehicle barn to see if he could coax a little more life out of Derek’s old tractor. He wondered why Derek hadn’t invited Phil and Cecily to join them for breakfast. Had Kiera convinced him he needed to consider the budget over hospitality? Or was that the only time convenient to both parties?
Why was Kiera showing up in everything he thought of?
Breakfast conversation revolved around ranch work. Tim was half done with his mowing and had nothing but praise for Rusty’s tractor and mower. “Think we can get these, D-Man?” he asked. “A disc mower is much more efficient than the sickle variety. Does the crushing at the same time.”
“In your lifetime?” Derek replied. “That’s a big maybe. Just because Rusty likes all the new toys doesn’t mean I can justify having them.”
“A man can dream, right?” Tim said.
Derek smirked. “Dream on. Without wanting to jinx things, all looked good on our ride-through this morning. If the price of beef holds until the herd is ready for market, we might have an in-the-black year.”
“That’s because there are now Halloran cattle on the Triple-D,” Tim said. “They’re bringing good luck with their mere presence.”
Bryce grimaced.
Derek picked up his empty plate and utensils and turned his attention to Frank. “What did you find with the tractor?”
“Gave it new spark plugs, changed the oil and air filter. You’ll have to reorder them for next time.”
“Knowing there will be a next time is good news.” Derek took his plate to the kitchen.
After breakfast, Bryce took over the mowing and Tim went to check on his luck-bringing cattle. Derek’s, “Frank, you’re with me,” seemed to satisfy the other cowboys when he wasn’t assigned a specific task.
Derek and Frank went to Derek’s office. Cecily and Phil showed up shortly thereafter. Cecily didn’t bother with pleasantries. “What are you saying about Javi? He’s not a cattle rustler.”
Derek lifted his palms. “Slow down. Nobody’s accusing anyone of anything yet.” He moved to his computer and pulled up the image files. “You tell me whether this is Javi.”
Phil confirmed it right away. Cecily took a little longer, as if she was trying to find a way to say it might not be him, but she reluctantly agreed.
“Cecily. I assume you know Javi’s history, since you vetted him for your program,” Derek said. “Can you fill us in, please.”
It wasn’t a question.
Cecily flopped onto the loveseat next to Frank. “Javi would never do that,” she muttered.
“Cecily, fill us in,” Derek repeated.
“Javi’s father walked out on him and his mom when he was three and she was pregnant with his sister. She supported herself by bartending, as well as with a string of men.”
“Hooking?” Frank asked.
“When you get down to it yes, although for the most part, she found longer-than-one-night relationships. Still, the parade of men in and out of Javi’s life didn’t do much for a normal upbringing. His sister lived with his grandmother, and Javi was left to himself. Going to school was up to him, and most of the time he didn’t attend. A gang became his family. Did time in juvie.”
“What were his criminal leanings?” Derek asked.
“Drugs—dealing, not using. Petty theft except for one grand theft auto, but the charges were dropped when it was obvious he’d been coerced into it.”
“What made him a candidate for Helping Through Horses?” Frank asked.
“My doing,” Phil said. “If Cecily’s program is going to make a difference, we have to try to turn around kids who are already headed down the wrong path, not only the ones who might go astray.”
“How was Javi working out?” Derek asked.
“Sullen. Kept to himself most of the time. But he’d do the chores assigned,” Phil said.
“How much of his chores included working cattle?” Frank asked.
Phil wriggled his lips, as if doing the calculations. “Not more than twenty-five percent, I’d say. He was still getting the hang of riding. Most of his responsibilities revolved around caring for the horses. He rode along if we were checking the herds, but he didn’t do much when it came to moving them.”
“The tough question,” Derek said. “Do you think he had the skills to stampede my cattle?”
“He wouldn’t do that,” Cecily said.
Derek shot her a big brother look. “I didn’t ask if Phil thought he did, only if he could have.”
Phil scrubbed his jaw. “Not by himself.”
“How would he know his way around the Triple-D?” Cecily asked. “Under the terms of the project agreement, he’s not supposed to leave the ranch without supervision. He has no transportation. No license.”
“We never found vehicle tracks,” Frank said.
“He didn’t take one of my horses,” Phil said.
Derek interrupted. “We agree Javi was caught by the wildlife camera. I think the next step is to let him explain.”
Cecily’s furrowed brow and narrowed lips telegraphed her unhappiness—her program could be in jeopardy—but she agreed. “Let me know where and when. I want to be there.”
She reached into her purse, took out a large manila envelope, slammed it on Derek’s desk, and stomped out of the room.
“Wait.” Derek started after Cecily.
Frank saw the hurt, the confusion in Derek’s eyes. “Let her go. She needs to calm down. Right now, she’s thinking of you as a meddling big brother.”
Derek, shoulders slumped, trudged into the office and flopped onto the loveseat. At a rumbling in the distance, Derek jerked upright. “What else could go wrong? All the forecasts said sunny weather for the next week. We’ve got all that grass cut. What we don’t need is rain.”