I search her expression, her silver eyes, and ask the question. “Is that really what you want? For me to leave you alone?”
Her lips tighten, firm into a hard line. “Yes. That’s what I want.”
I’d hoped for a different answer, but she’s spoken, made herself clear, and I’m going to listen.
I nod. “Okay, I’ll leave you alone.”
At some point I’m going to ask again.
And again.
In hopes of a different answer.
Cat
As the opening of the restaurant is barreling down on us, I’ve been too crazy to do anything but frantically dart from task to task. Since Caden said he’d leave me alone, he’s done exactly that.
He’s stopped pursuing me.
Stopped trying to talk.
Stopped trying to explain.
He’s kept a professional distance and only spoken to me about work-related matters.
It’s what I wanted and asked for, except it’s still making things harder, not easier.
With every hour that passes, I miss him more.
Until he backed away, and I stopped having to expend all my energy resisting him, I hadn’t realized how much I’ve grown to depend on him. Somehow, in the short time he’s worked for us, he’s become my person.
And goddamn it, I miss my person!
So this afternoon, as we sat in yet another meeting to go over everything for the private event, I was overcome with a sudden need to come here. I have no idea why, but it became an insistent demand, and eventually I gave in.
Here I am—unsure, but determined to see it through.
The sun beats down on my car, and even with the air conditioning, beads of sweat form along my temples. I’m under the white arches of the Shooting Star Stables.
After sitting empty for many years, new owners have bought the place where I spent so many happy hours as a child. I’ve avoided looking at the sign whenever I passed the place on my way into town, but today it called, and I heeded its siren song.
My heart is a hard lump in my chest. It’s silly to be nervous. To quote Caden, it’s a lot of pressure to put on a ride.
One I might not even be able to make. It’s not like I have a plan. I’m just giving this a try. I drive the rest of the way up the path.
I pull into the gravel lot, and there’s an office to the right of me, but there’s a man training a horse over by the corral, so I climb out and walk over to watch. He waves at me, and I wave back, but he doesn’t stop what he’s doing.
The place hasn’t changed much, although the new owners have given everything fresh paint, and all that was overgrown and neglected has been cut away. It feels the same though, and my eyes sting a little as I remember my young self on top of Buttercup, Mrs. Spencer at the reins as she trotted me around, instructing me on proper technique.
“Can I help you?” A female voice says, jerking me out of the memory.
I swing around, brushing my fingers under my lashes to wipe away any tears. “Hi. I’m Cat McKay.”
The woman, an attractive brunette with warm, brown eyes that looks to be somewhere around my age, smiles, holding out her hand. “Everyone knows the McKays, but it’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Sara Bodine. My husband and I own this place.”
I shake her hand. “You guys have done a great job. You must be proud.”
“We are.” She leans against the fence. “It took a while to settle in and get the business running, but we’re happy. I’m glad we made the move.”
