Seth turned back to the arena footing. “I can’t see Ryan doing that.”
Cull huffed out a laugh. “I’m sure Jake, Wyatt, Ryder, Grant, and the rest all thought the same thing. If you’d just talk to her, maybe you’d see how serious she is. How she feels about you,” Cull urged. “Don’t throw this away. Life’s too short to wonder what if.”
Seth drew a deep breath. “After what I said to her the last time I saw her, I doubt she’d listen.”
“You’ll regret not trying,” Cull insisted. “She told you she wanted to stay. She’s not fickle, she wants you. I just don’t know why.”
Seth managed to have a ghost of a smile. “Neither do I.”
Cull patted his shoulder and strode off toward the UTV. “Keep me posted. I’m going to check the rows.”
“I’m just glad we didn’t lose any in the freeze.”
“Me too. The row covers did their jobs. Call me on the radio if you need anything.”
“Alright, Cull.”
Both men turned when they heard Elsie mooing along with the sound of the bell round her neck. Cull looked at Seth.
“I’ll take her back.” Cull walked to the cow, wrapped his hand around her collar and led her out of the barn.
The filly ran back to Seth, and sighed against his sleeve, her warm nose nudging his hand. He rubbed behind her ear, the slick sheen of her coat under his palm grounding him. He inhaled the scent of hay and horse, forcing out thoughts of Ryan.
He looked up at the sun still hanging low in the sky and wondered if she was home and happy. He needed to get to work, so right now, his focus belonged to the young horse.
“Come on, pretty girl,” he murmured as he vaulted the rail. His boots landed in the soft sand next to the long reins. He turned as the filly bounded forward, tail flicking. She stopped at his side, nostrils flared in greeting, and whinnied encouragement.
Seth smiled, heart tightening with both hope and doubt. “Ready, then?” he asked. The filly tossed her mane and nudged him again. Together, they moved toward the center of the arena, each step settling him back into the work he knew best.
Chapter Eleven
Friday morning, Ryan entered the glossy, open-plan offices of the magazine, the scent of fresh coffee and printer toner hanging in the air. She pulled the metal drawer out with a soft scrape, placed her leather purse in it, then shoved it closed. She pulled her chair out, the wheels squeaking slightly against the polished floor, sat down and turned on her sleek computer. The screen cast a blue glow across her tired face as she plugged her phone into it, carefully check-marking the vibrant photos she wanted to add to the magazine’s folder so Doris could choose which ones would go with the interview. She had done the same ritual on her personal laptop at home, and every time she saw a sun-drenched photo of the sprawling ranch, the men in their dusty jeans, and especially Seth with his gorgeous grin and those moss green eyes, she’d burst into tears that left mascara tracks down her cheeks.
“Good morning, Ryan.”
She glanced up, blinking away the moisture threatening her eyes, to see Doris standing beside her desk, impeccably dressed in a crimson pantsuit, and forced her lips into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Good morning, Doris. I’m downloading the photos I got of Clifton—” her voice caught and she cleared her throat, swallowing hard. “They’re great. You’d love the town, with its charming storefronts and friendly locals.”
Doris sighed, a sound heavy with concern, as she pulled a chair from another desk with a screech across the floor, slid it beside Ryan’s and sat down, her perfume, something floral and expensive, wafting between them.
“You’re not fooling anyone with this ‘happier than shit’ attitude you’ve got going on.”
Ryan looked at her to see her staring with a perfectly arched eyebrow raised in challenge, crow’s feet crinkling at the corners of her knowing eyes, and sighed, her shoulders slumping.
“I’m trying to get over this.”
“Oh, really? And you think that will only take a week?” Doris’s voice was gentle but firm, like a mother’s would be. “Because that’s all it’s been, honey. One week since you left that man with that heartbreaking smile, and you’re not going to get over him that fast.”
“I kept all the photos I took of him and his place,” Ryan admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “The men who work for him in their dusty Stetsons, but mostly of him, Seth leaning against the fence at sunset, Seth laughing at something one of the men said. I stare at them at night in my bedroom. Bawl my eyes out until my pillow’s soaked and then try to sleep just one night without him invading my dreams.”
Doris’s hand pressed gently against Ryan’s shoulder through the red blouse she wore, offering what comfort she could. “I’m so sorry, Ryan,” she said in a low, sympathetic voice, the fluorescent office lights humming overhead. “I’ve never seen you this torn up over a man.”
Ryan’s shoulders hunched as she set her coffee mug aside, the ceramic clinking softly on the metal desk. “I love him, Doris… but he thinks he was just a—” She waved her hand as if trying to grab the word from the air.
“A fling?” Doris prompted, her tone gentle.
Ryan shook her head, her dark hair brushing against her cheek. “No. More like a fascination on my part, a foolish notion that we could be together. He thinks I pursued him because he’s not the type of man I usually date.”
