By midafternoon, Ryan found herself grinning at the memory of the sun-warmed stalks swaying in time to a passing breeze. She hoped that Seth still subscribed to the issue when it hit newsstands in six months, maybe a year, and that he’d feel proud of the difference the livestock feed he grew made.
As the clock ticked toward quitting time, Ryan rose, unlocked her desk drawer, and retrieved her purse. She tucked her chair beneath the desk, its soft wheels whispering against the floor. Overhead, the fluorescent lights blinked off one by one, plunging the office into a muted twilight. She glanced at Doris’s office door, dark, as if its occupant had already melted into the night.
“Goodnight, Ryan,” called LeeAnn from across the room, her fingers still dancing over the last lines of her latest article.
“Night, LeeAnn. Late Friday, you’re such a trooper,” Ryan teased.
LeeAnn grinned. “Perry’s waiting. Just wrapping this up.” She waved a pen. “You have a great weekend.”
“You too. See you Monday,” Ryan said, returning the wave. She padded to the glass entrance, pushed the door open, and slipped into the elevator. It descended with a soft whoosh to the subterranean garage, where rows of muted SUVs and sedans stood in neat ranks under pale sodium lights.
Ryan aimed her remote at her own SUV. Two flashes of light and a single beep answered her. She slid into the driver’s seat, tossed her purse onto the passenger seat, and closed the door. The engine rumbled to life. Pulling up to the gate, she punched in her access code; the barrier arm swung upward with a clank. Waving at the lone security guard behind the glass booth, Ryan eased her vehicle through and headed out into the hot night air. She knew she had to be alone tonight since Skylar had a date. Ryan hoped it worked out for her because her own love life sucked.
****
Monday morning, Seth entered the arena with a hot cup of coffee, the scent of rich Colombian roast mingling with the earthy smells of hay and leather. He stopped mid-stride when he saw Cull strolling toward him, cowboy boots scuffing against the cement floor.
“Morning,” Cull said, squinting against the sunlight streaming through the high windows.
“Good morning,” Seth replied, his voice rough from lack of sleep.
“You look like you haven’t slept in weeks.” Cull’s face creased with concern. “Those dark circles under your eyes are practically permanent fixtures now.”
“I haven’t, smartass.” Seth took a defensive sip of his coffee, wincing as it burned his tongue. “Let it go.”
“I’m not the one who can’t sleep. Damn, Seth.” Cull crossed his arms over his chest, his T-shirt pulling tight across his shoulders and arms. “You’re miserable and all you had to do was say one word: stay. But you couldn’t do that and we’re all suffering for it.”
“And if she had stayed,” Seth’s knuckles whitened around the coffee cup, “what happened when she wanted to go?”
“Then you let her go. It means she wasn’t the one for you.” Cull shook his head; his hat casting shadows across his face. “But I’m telling you, Seth, she is. You’re going to lose the best thing that ever happened to you.”
“I’ve already lost her, Cull,” Seth snapped, a muscle jumping in his jaw.
“You still have a chance to make it right.” Cull stepped closer. “Do you want to be alone the rest of your life?”
Seth clenched his jaw and narrowed his bloodshot eyes. “Why not? You do,” he snapped, his words hanging between them like frost on glass.
Seth sighed. “I’m sorry.” He pressed his lips together.
“You’re like a wounded bear,” Cull snapped as he strode down the barn’s aisle.
Seth watched him walk away, then got to work with the two young horses until sweat darkened their coats to copper penny shine. The sorrel filly impressed him most with the flag work, her brown eyes tracking the crimson flutter with the intensity of a hawk, her muscled haunches pivoting beneath her as if connected to the flag by invisible thread. Each time she anticipated the movement correctly, her ears pricked forward in unmistakable satisfaction.
A champion cutting horse needed more than just the right physical blueprint, though the deep barrel, powerfulhindquarters, and low-set hocks were non-negotiable. Seth could spot that innate ‘cow sense’ in the way certain horses’ eyes lit up at the sight of cattle, how they’d lower their head and neck, nostrils flaring as if the dance between predator and prey was encoded in their DNA. The best ones possessed a quiet intelligence behind their eyes, a willingness to partner rather than submit, and the athletic grace to stop on a dime and turn faster than thought.
Seth ran a hand down the filly’s damp neck, feeling the muscles twitch beneath her hide. In eight years of training, he’d only encountered a handful of horses he couldn’t reach. Most came around eventually, their initial resistance melting into eager cooperation once they understood the language he was teaching, a language of subtle pressure, timely release, and unwavering patience.
As he made his way inside his house, he removed his hat, sat on the bench, toed off his boots, then leaned his head back against the wall. When would this pain end? When would he be able to close his eyes at night and not see her?
Seth sighed as he got to his feet, entered the laundry room, stripped, then headed for the bathroom. After gathering up a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, he entered the bathroom to shower.
Once finished, he headed toward the kitchen to eat something, then he had some correspondence he needed to go over before heading to bed. He usually did it with his laptop, but he was sure the guys were still going over the photos they wanted.
As he made a sandwich, he heard someone knock on the door, so he walked to it, flipped on the porchlight and saw Cull standing there. Seth opened the door.
“Hey, the guys said they’d email you about the photos they want. Most of them just use their phones, so you’ll have to print them, if you don’t mind.”
“No, I don’t mind. Come inside, Cull. Have a sandwich.” Seth pulled the door open wider.
