"Yes, at Riverside Stables. About a mile from where you are, I think. It's a good facility, and Dustin chose it specifically because they have rehabilitation services. He's very focused on making sure Thunder stays healthy and sound."
The third call was to Bill Tracy, the sponsor.
"You thinking about renting to Fleming?" Bill's voice was gravelly, like he'd spent too many years around arena dust and cigarette smoke. "Smart move. He's got integrity, which is more than I can say for half the riders I work with."
"What's he like as a person? I mean, away from the rodeo."
"Keeps to himself mostly. Never been one to cause trouble or get mixed up in the drama that follows some of these boys around. He's focused, professional, treats this sport like a business instead of just a party."
"And his future plans? Is he planning to keep competing?"
Bill was silent for a moment. "That's probably a conversation you should have with him. But I will say this. Dustin's not stupid. He knows he can't do this forever, and he's smart enough to have a backup plan. Question is whether he's ready to use it."
After the calls, she sat back in her chair and stared at her notes. Three references, three glowing recommendations, andabsolutely zero help in talking herself out of the feelings that had been building since Dustin walked through her door yesterday.
Because that's what she'd been hoping for, wasn't it? Some red flag, some warning sign, some reason to choose the boring insurance adjuster instead of the cowboy who made her heart race.
But all she'd gotten was confirmation that Dustin Fleming was exactly what he appeared to be. Honest. Reliable. A man who took care of his responsibilities and didn't cause trouble.
A man who lived his life in eight-month increments and had never stayed anywhere long enough to build anything lasting.
Her phone rang. "Vanessa? It's Mom."
"Hi, Mom." She closed her laptop before her mother could ask about the job search.
"I was just calling to check on you. How are things going with the interviews?"
"Fine. Good. I'm exploring some options." Standard deflection. Her mother had been asking the same question for three weeks, and Vanessa had been giving the same non-answer.
"Your father thinks you should consider moving back home for a while. Just until you get back on your feet."
Back home. To the town where she'd grown up watching her parents fight about money, where everyone would know she'd failed at the life she'd built for herself, where she'd have to sleep in her childhood bedroom and pretend everything was fine.
"I'm managing, Mom. Actually, I'm thinking about taking in a renter to help with expenses."
"A renter? Vanessa, you don't know anything about being a landlord. What if they don't pay? What if they damage the house? What if they're dangerous?"
Dangerous. The word stuck in her throat. Not because she thought Dustin was dangerous to her safety, but because she was beginning to realize he was dangerous to everything else. Toher walls. To her need to stay independent. To her conviction that love at first sight was just something that happened in the romance novels on her bookshelf.
"I've checked references. It'll be fine."
"I don't like this. A single woman living alone with a strange man? It's not safe."
"It's not like that, Mom. He'd be renting the downstairs room, and we'd barely see each other."
The lie tasted bitter. They'd be sharing a kitchen, a living room, the kind of spaces where you ran into each other constantly. Where she'd see him first thing in the morning with sleep-mussed hair and yesterday's stubble. Where they'd navigate around each other making coffee and breakfast and all the small intimacies that came with sharing space.
Where she'd drive herself crazy wondering if he was thinking about her the way she was thinking about him.
"What does he do for work?"
Vanessa looked at her notes. Rodeo cowboy. Professional risk-taker. Man who made his living getting thrown by animals that weighed ten times what he did. Man who'd looked at her yesterday like she was the most interesting thing he'd seen in months.
"He's in entertainment."
"Entertainment? Like an actor?"
"Something like that. Look, Mom, I should go. I have some things to take care of."
