“Sawyer said she doesn’t ride him,” Bowen says. “Can’t risk getting hurt.”
I wouldn’t mind a good kick to the groin to get my mind off the hurt simmering in Meredith’s eyes before I walked out of the brewery. “I live on the edge.”
Landry snorts. “You don’t even live on the edge of Denver. You’re downtown with all the other rich assholes.”
“I don’t know if my neighbors are assholes or not.” I don’t talk to anyone in my building, and I prefer it that way.
“My neighbor brings me cookies.” Bowen runs his teeth along his bottom lip. “One time, she messed up the salt measurements. Another time, she gave me leftovers that had mold. Then I found her passed out in the middle of her yard, right in the rocks. When I return, her daughter will probably have moved her out and into a care center.”
“Jesus.” This is the most Bowen’s talked about his personal life.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “Sucks. The rest of the street is full of families. I should’ve stayed in a glass tower like you.”
We’re surrounded by grass and the buzz of crickets. A glass tower sounds absurd right now, and the last place I want to be. I sway with Monster Jam. He’s a strong horse. Tall. If he were ridden more, he’d get comfortable with his rider and stress less when other horses aren’t around. I lean forward and brush a hand down his warm withers. A horse with abandonment issues shouldn’t get attached to me.
I catch a glimpse of Meredith. She’s beyond the gate with Styx. Meredith, Sawyer, and Carlos form a line from one ditch to the other side to ensure the cattle head right into the open pasture. The throng of animals between us can’t hide her from me when she’s on horseback. Styx is excited about the number of cows coming right for her and shifts. Meredith barely moves, and Styx calms down. She’s facing me straight on, and her hat moves from side to side as she scans the cows. She’s not looking at me, but I’m admiring the flare of her hips and the jut of her breasts, thanks to her posture.
The cattle start moving to the right. The older cows know the field and the sweet grass waiting for them, and all the others follow. Carlos leans on his saddle horn, looking like he’s slumping, but if that horse blows up, the animal would find there’s nothing slacking about Carlos.
Blue darts into the pasture after the last cows pass through the gate, driving them farther in so Carlos can dismount.
After tying off his reins on a fence post, Carlos closes and latches the gate. He could’ve done it all from the saddle, but maybe parts of the job are getting harder for him. Sawyer and her horse, Juneberry, fall even with my brothers. Meredith rides to the end, as far from me as she can. I want to ride beside her, but I swing around to line up with them.
Carlos doesn’t hop back on his horse. Instead, he digs out his phone. “Look at that.” He jogs ahead of us several yards, huffing and puffing before climbing out of the ditch and into the middle of the road. Moving his phone from left to right, he takes a panoramic shot. “Never thought I’d see the day. Might have to frame this one and put it in the office. Who knows when it’ll happen again?”
I give my brothers a sidelong glance. Bowen and Landry concentrate on the spot between their horses’ ears, and I haveto look away. I can’t see Meredith beyond them, but Styx’s ears twitch.
Carlos is still grinning and snapping pictures. “Esme’s going to love these.” He tucks his camera into his shirt pocket. “She asked if we’re grilling afterward like normal. Horseshoes?”
Bowen groans beside me, but his horse whinnies and smothers the sound.
We used to have a party after a cattle drive: cold beer, marbled steaks, and games. Mama would take the whole day off at the brewery.
“We’re having a party,” Sawyer announces. “I don’t know if these guys are coming.”
The way she says it is a taunt. I don’t have to look at my brothers to know they’re stiff in the saddle.
“I’ll be there,” Bowen growls, probably frustrated he can’t ignore the challenge in Sawyer’s voice.
“I hate to make you throw horseshoes alone, Uncle Carlos,” Landry says. “And I have to get my fill of steak before I return to the land of vegans.”
If Meredith will be there, I’m not missing my last day with her. She’s not talking to me, but I’ll soak up every glimpse I get.
“Then I have to go too,” I add, “if only to prove my brothers are still shit at Horseshoes.”
FORTY-SIX
MEREDITH
Tonight’s cattle-drive party has a different feel. It’s to be expected. There’s no Ransom with his booming laugh joking around with Carlos. Holly’s not darting to and from the house to replenish beer in the cooler or refill the lemonade pitcher.
Calder and his brothers are building a fire in the metal pit they dragged out of the shop. Chickens dart around in the background, and the barn cats are hanging out in the barn door, watching us. Carlos stands by, giving the guys advice as if they haven’t done this for twenty years, and that’s probably accurate.
Esme sighs and picks up paper plates left on the picnic table, which we also dragged out of the equipment shop. “I’m going to grab my husband before he gets drunk on s’mores. The man will chew through a whole pack of marshmallows and be up all night with a stomachache. Then he’ll groan all morning from the sugar hangover.”
She gives Sawyer and me a quick hug.
While Esme drags Carlos away, Calder’s gaze lands on me before dropping to my bare legs. I still have my cowboy boots on, but after cleaning up, I slipped into a summer dress. A mischievous part of me wanted him to see what he was missing. The logical side knew I didn’t measure up to the etherealbeauties he must date. His intense gaze suggests otherwise, and so does the simmering pain in his eyes.
