Chapter Five

Hannah…

I’m still captured in Roarke’s stare and in the spellbinding moment of him on that horse, kneeling in front of me, a prince before his princess. I was, but I’m not now, and I can’t ever be again. I share another look with Roarke, understanding what he wants. This is a piece of our past. This is a routine I helped him with, so I give in because the horse worked so hard to give me this moment. I bow to him now and stroke his nose. He neighs and stands at the same moment I do.

I don’t know how it happens, but some of the ice around my heart melts, and Roarke and I smile at each other. And my God, I feel that moment. I still feel him. No wonder I have no social life. I never got over this man, and that statement has so many layers, and they aren’t the kind that keep you from eating a cake. They’re the kind that drag you into the mud and you can’t stop sinking.

That’s when the sudden explosion of what looks like white snow all around us, followed by the flash of cameras, jerks me out of the world where, for a few moments, it was just me, him, and the stallion. “Did you get that?” Jessica shouts at someone. “Tell me you got that.”

“I got it!” Liz shouts. “That snow was brilliant!”

“Me, too!” Mike chimes in. “That’s a great Christmas promo shot for the camp! What a great idea, Jessica.”

Jessica steps to my side, glowing with her brilliance. “They had it in some party room,” she says, “and I thought: we’re having a festival at the holidays. A Christmas festival would be magical. That means we can’t pass up a shot with snow on the baseball field.” She laughs. “Who cares if it’s Texas and it barely ever snows? It’s all about the kids and the holidays.”

I glance around at the little beads of white all over the field and then at her. “I think the idea was to get the shot with Roarke, though. Is there more of that material I can use to shoot with him alone?”

“Are you kidding me?” she asks, moving closer. “That was incredible, too magical for a do-over. Did you and Roarke train the horses together back in the day?”

“Yes,” I say. “We did.”

Roarke dismounts and joins us. “Old habits don’t die,” he says, giving me a nudge.

“I had no idea you two knew each other this well,” Jessica says. “I mean I guess I should have. Sweetwater is a small town.”

“He babysat me and made me clean horse poop,” I say. “Needless to say, I have a lot of shit memories.” I glance up at him. “But I still like the horses.”

Jessica glances between us. “Well, you two are pretty magical together. I couldn’t stop watching you. I think this is all going to come together beautifully.”

Someone shouts for Roarke, and he glances over his shoulder and back. “Are you done with me?” he asks. “I need to manage the horses.”

“Yes,” I say without looking at him. “I am.”

“Me, too,” Jessica says. “Dinner tonight, Roarke. Eddie V’s. Eight o’clock.”

“Got it,” he says, giving a nod and disappearing from our little circle. He doesn’t speak to me. It bothers me, and I hate that it bothers me.

“Can you join us for dinner?” Jessica asks. “We can game-plan the campaign and then set up a time for you to come see the camp and shoot there?”

Dinner and more Roarke. No. No, I can’t do that. I have to say no. I can’t say no. “I, ah—yes,” I say. “Sure. Dinner. Great.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “Is the ‘shit’ between you and Roarke a problem?”

My eyes meet hers, and I breathe out. “No. I’ve shoveled enough shit in my life to know how to put it in a box and leave it alone so that it doesn’t stink things up.”

“Good. I’m super excited about your involvement.” She hugs me. She’s a hugger, which is fine. This is Texas, not the L.A. fashion business, where a touch became a grope far too often. It’s interesting to be back in the world of old but not the old me. “I’ll text you the restaurant address,” she says, and with that, she hurries away. I can’t help myself—I turn, my gaze seeking the man who might have been my husband, just in time to watch him disappear off the field with a horse. My heart squeezes just thinking about those shared moments with him today. Maybe we can be friends or maybe that would kill me, but I’m an adult. He’s an adult. We can make this situation work. I hurry forward toward the exit, and suddenly, my foot has squished in something, something extraordinarily gross.

I look down, and my foot is in horse shit, Roarke’s horse’s shit. Somehow, this feels like a teaching moment. I need to remember the past. I need to remember that even gorgeous beasts have a shitty side.