15

 

“So other than when you saw the crowd of reporters around Graham after he won, you had a good time?” Savvy asked, leaning a boot against the rustic wood of the barn’s exterior.

Rori tossed the hay, scattering some extra clumps for Reesie and Snickers. “Yeah.” She did, as much as it hurt to admit.

“Would you go again?”

“He’ll never ask.” She turned the spigot on and draped the hose over the trough. Sighed. No. He’d never ask.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I left him a note.”

“Oh.” Savvy’s blonde brows furrowed in the middle.

Rori averted her gaze back to the hose. She turned off the faucet and slipped the hose around the hook.

“And?” Savvy’s tone was quiet.

Or maybe she was just too tired. She straightened, her muscles sore and lids heavy. When Burk had finally dropped her off at one o’clock this morning, she hadn’t bothered to go to bed, knowing she’d never be able to sleep. “I told him I didn’t see how a relationship between us could ever work.” The day’s light didn’t make that decision any wiser or better. But there it was. She stomped inside the barn, Savvy right on her heels. Rori picked up a couple pitchforks, handed them to Savvy, and then she grabbed a bucket and the wheelbarrow and headed for the first stall.

Savvy’s boots clomped. “You know he’ll be back,” Savvy said. How could her voice carry so much certainty?

Rori released the handles and unlatched the door to the empty stall. She’d already moved the horses out to pasture earlier. She pushed the wheelbarrow close to the door and let go. It clunked on the ground. “No, he won’t.” Would he? She wasn’t so sure. Her brain had been so addled last night, her emotions so tangled, that she couldn’t even remember what she wrote in the note. The urgency to leave still made her tummy ache and her shoulders tense.

Graham deserved someone who could share in his success, someone who didn’t mind being in front of the camera. She wasn’t that person, as much as she wanted to be with Graham.

They set to work mucking out the stall and fluffing it with fresh straw and then moved on to the next one.

Usually this brought her peace, satisfaction. Today, not so much. Discouragement as heavy as bricks weighted her shoulders. Even the grant award she’d found in her email inbox earlier hadn’t soothed her heart or cleared the confusion. “I can’t do it, Savvy.” She didn’t blink. If she did, the tears would surely fall. She’d cried enough tears in her lifetime. She speared the waste and flicked it in the bucket, caught Savvy’s brown eyes welling as she leaned against the pitchfork.

“You can, Rori. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. Remember graduation?”

She stopped digging and straightened. A sigh lifted her chest. “Yeah.”

“You were determined to make your mom proud. To show her honor and respect after all the years of hurtful things that people said about her and to her. It took months of practice, but you did it.”

Rori nodded.

Savvy had made her practice walking the stage every day after school for months.

“Think of this relationship with Graham in the same way, Rori. It’ll definitely take practice, and it won’t be easy, but you can do it. The big question is,” Savvy tilted her head, studying Rori, “is Graham worth it to you?” Savvy flicked some loose blonde strands behind an ear. “Do you want him in your life?”

Just thinking about Graham kicked her pulse up a notch. Her heart ached with longing. She missed him already. It didn’t take long for her to decide. She nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

Determination firmed Savvy’s jaw, and her normally full lips flattened. “Then we need to get busy.”

 

****

 

“So what do you see in Graham Decker’s future?” Nan Greenway, the reporter for Athletes in the News magazine, leaned forward in her chair, her pen poised above the paper, even though she was also taping their conversation. A slim leg crossed a knee, and her four-inch spike of a heel jiggled.

Graham settled back, scrubbing a hand across his whisker heavy face, weary to the bone. He’d gotten home at two this morning, and he still hadn’t come to terms with what to do about Rori. He probably should have cancelled this interview, but at least it wasn’t televised. Nobody would see his droopy shoulders or the frustrated look he sent Nan. He chuckled, but it was more from a desire to bring this interview to a close than mirth. “Another car for the team. Hopefully, a championship.”

Judging by Nan’s frown, that wasn’t the answer she was looking for.

Well, too bad. This interview was over. He stood, stretching to his full height, towering over the lady still sitting in the chair. He held out a hand, forcing the reporter to get up. “Thanks for the interview, Nan. I’ll look forward to reading the feature next month.”

“I’m not quite done with my questions—”

“I’m sorry.” He glanced pointedly at the clock in his office. “I have another appointment.” And he did. With God. He needed time to shut the door to all the interruptions, time to get up close and personal with his Father. A few moments to allow raindrops from heaven to pour down and soothe his battered heart. He walked over to the open door and swung it wide, waiting for Nan to take the hint.

With a huff, she leaned over to pick up her oversized bag, displaying a huge gap in the front of her silk blouse.

He turned his head away and sighed. Why did women do that? Did they think he would be even remotely interested? Or that he’d give them more of a newsworthy scoop? Thanks to his mom’s advice, he’d always maintained an “open door” policy when it came to women in his office.

Nan took her time collecting her belongings, and then wobbled over to him in those high heels, stopping directly in front of him, her strong perfume reeking of some floral scent that would have been best left in the ground.

It was so strong, his eyes watered.

She looked up at him, a coy expression on her face. “How’s it going with the golfer’s daughter?” If she thought that would rile him enough to give her an answer, she was mistaken.

Even so, his jaw clenched at her rudeness. “Have a good day, Nan.” He stepped around her, setting a firm hand on her back to guide her out the door. He closed the door and pressed his back against the cool metal.

Was this type of rudeness what Rori and her family endured all these years? How could he possibly understand how to deal with the hurt and pain that she carried around on those tiny shoulders? And how could he, a racecar driver whose livelihood depended on media popularity, keep her and their relationship out of the public eye? Questions like this were bound to surface repeatedly. Was it fair to expect her to change, to overcome her adversity to the media? His heart sank. Not if Nan was any indication. He certainly wasn’t going to throw Rori to the wolves.

God, how can this be? I finally meet a woman who doesn’t care about my money, but she can’t handle my career. Did You allow me the joy of getting to know Rori, of loving Rori, only to leave us like this?

He didn’t think so, but a little time on his knees wouldn’t hurt.