Page 102 of Lost Trust

“Oh dear Lord,” Mom says, narrowing her eyes at me. “Of course the first man to pique your interest in years is another bull rider. You certainly do have a type, baby girl.”

“He’s nothing like Blaze,” I snap a little too quickly, and she notices. “Just because they have the same occupation doesn’t mean it’s fair to lump them in the same category.”

Her eyes go wide. “Damn, I was teasing, but you really do have a thing for him, don’t you?” Her eyes go back to the roof of the barn. “Not that I can blame you.”

I let out a frustrated huff and reach up to rub my temples. “You’re gonna give me a migraine, Mother. I don’t have a thing for him. We’re just friends. Kinda.”

“Whatever you say,” she mutters, picking up her glass and swirling the dark liquid. “But don’t you think it’s time you got yourself a man?”

“No. I don’t.”

“You’re young, beautiful, funny, and you’re raising a child.”

“Exactly. I have enough to worry about,” I say.

“That’s my point. Who’s taking care of you?” she asks.

“I have a job.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, baby girl. A woman has other needs besides financial ones.”

Grandma Evelyn chuckles.

Mom takes a leisurely sip of her wine. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. All that ex of yours was good for was a good lay.”

I nearly choke. “Mom!”

She looks at me innocently. “What? It’s true, isn’t it? That’s why you let his sorry ass stay around for so long.”

“I never told you that.”

“You didn’t have to.” She waves her hand dismissively. “The boy had you in a choke hold for years. He had to be giving it to you good for you to hold on that long.”

Geezus.

“Besides, I saw him on a bull. I could tell.”

I stare at her, then look around in horror at the other women, who thankfully seem amused rather than offended.

Mom turns toward Charli. “I mean, you’re married to a bull rider. Am I wrong?”

Charli bites her lip. “No,” she says, fighting a smile. “You are not.”

Mom looks entirely pleased with herself.

“Well, that wasn’t my experience,” I say.

“It wasn’t?” She shakes her head. “That’s a damn shame. At least you would have been getting something out of him.”

“Maybe at first. But by the time he left … he was lazy and selfish.” I look toward my son.

He’s laughing so hard as he slips into the grass. Ruby is beside him in an instant, trying to pull him back onto his feet.

“He wasn’t interested anymore,” I say quietly, “after Ryder was born.”

Mom studies me for a moment. Then, because, apparently, we’re not done making this conversation as uncomfortable as humanly possible, she says, “Then you get back in the saddle because, trust me, there’s not another man on this planet who wouldn’t be interested.”

I snort. “That’s because you think all men are sluts.”