The fences containing Rose Reyes’s patience had never seemed so flat. Of course, she hadn’t pushed her daughter, Mari, as far out of her comfort zone as she had these past few months.
As she listened to Mari wail over the fact that her cucumbers had touched her ranch dressing before she was ready, Rose sent a prayer for someone, anyone, to come fix the fence line.
Someone.
Anyone.
No one came.
No one ever did.
So Rose sat next to Mari and took a deep breath. “Mari, you need to calm down. When you’re ready, I’ll be back.” She got up and purposely moved down the hall to her bedroom. Even with the door closed, she could hear Mari’s hiccups and continued sniffles.
She was safe. She was fine. She just resisted change of any kind, and having cucumbers instead of carrots had already thrown her for a loop.
Scratching came against Rose’s door, and she cracked it to let in Paprika, the little shih tzu that could usually settle Mari. Now, Rose picked up the dog and stroked her head, taking the animal’s latent energy as her own.
Mari had been having more episodes lately, something Doctor Parchman had predicted. The therapist at Courage Reins, the riding center where Mari participated in equine therapy a couple times a week, had sent Rose home with some brochures about how to deal with the outbursts, and Rose met with Doctor Parchman once a month to make sure she worked with Mari appropriately at home.
She’d done the best she could, but Mari’s continued crying would’ve challenged Mother Teresa. Rose sighed and gazed out the window, glad Mari had another riding appointment that evening.
That is, if Rose could get Mari calm enough to finish eating and get in the car. The silence beyond the door snagged Rose’s attention and she took Paprika with her as she rejoined Mari in the kitchen.
Half the grilled cheese sandwich was gone. But the cucumbers were still stubbornly pushed to the side, the smudge of white on the corner of an innocent vegetable the culprit of Mari’s outburst.
“Feel better?” Rose asked her daughter, smoothing the girl’s bangs off her forehead.
Mari didn’t answer, a typical response. Rose turned away, her usual reaction. Mostly so Mari wouldn’t accidentally see Rose’s frustration, the tears that settled in the corners of her eyes. Rose never wanted Mari to know she longed to have a real conversation with someone—someone who didn’t need a line of credit, a construction loan, or an extension on their mortgage due date.
As the loan manager at Three Rivers Bank, the only adults Rose spoke with had the same problems she did. Some worse. Some easier. But she knew better than most that everybody had problems.
Hers weren’t financial, and as Mari put her plate—still laden with the dreaded cucumbers—in the sink, a tidal wave of guilt nearly sent Rose to her knees. Guilt that she wanted someone to talk to that would talk back. Guilt that she counted her own daughter as a problem. Guilt that she felt so downtrodden when she knew others had it worse than she did.
“Ready to go riding?” she asked, forcing back the tears and a measure of brightness into her voice.
Mari made eye contact for less than a blink. “Okay.”
“Okay, then.” Rose smiled. “Go get changed. We’ll be late if we wait much longer.”
While Mari changed out of her school clothes and into her riding pants, Rose checked her phone to make sure it had enough charge to get to the ranch and back. With summer still a couple months off, darkness came early, and the last thing she wanted was to be stranded on the lonely stretch of road between town and the ranch without a way to call for help.
By the time Mari returned, Rose had her jacket and cowgirl hat waiting. They were ten minutes late leaving, but she knew better than to rush the girl. Rose spent most of her life waiting for Mari, and she’d learned to start tasks thirty minutes early so Mari could finish them on time.
“Let’s go,” Rose said, swiping her keys from the kitchen counter, where her empty dinner plate still sat.
She called Tom Lovell, the cowboy who usually worked with Mari at the facility, a stone in her stomach. She hated telling him they’d be late, though he never acted like it mattered. Still, she knew time was valuable, and someone with as many responsibilities as Tom surely couldn’t afford to be sitting around.
“Rose,” he said, his friendly voice a welcome addition to Rose’s life.
“Hello, Tom,” she said, wondering if he was as happy to hear her voice as she was his. Probably not. He had plenty of adults to converse with throughout the day.
“We’re just leaving, so we’ll be a tiny bit late.” She backed out of the driveway as she held down the button for the garage door. It wouldn’t budge. She braked, stopped, and tried again.
Nothing.
“No problem,” Tom drawled as Rose put the car in park. Impatience really wanted to win over her today, but she tamped down the frustration as she reached for the rope and pulled the door down manually.
A loud screech accompanied her words when she said, “And if you have any of that dark roast coffee on, I’d love a cup when I get there.”
He chuckled. “Rough day?”
Rose basked in the warmth of his laugh, slightly embarrassed at her reaction to him, though he wasn’t there and couldn’t see her.
“You could say that,” she said. “Be there soon.”
“I’ll start the coffee for you.”
Rose hung up, tucked her phone in her jacket pocket, and settled back into the driver’s seat with a moan.
Halfway to the ranch, her phone rang. She checked it and saw the name Ed. She thumbed the call to voicemail, unwilling to add to the weight of today with a conversation with her ex-husband. He could at least wait until after the session.
“Dad,” Mari said, pointing at the still flashing screen.
“We’ll call him back after you ride Peony.” Rose added a smile to the end of her statement.
“Peony,” Mari echoed.
“That’s right.” Rose patted Mari’s leg and kept on toward Three Rivers. She pulled into the parking lot at Courage Reins and exhaled as Mari got out of the car without prompting. She’d gotten better at a lot of things since starting the equine therapy eighteen months ago, including her schoolwork, talking to her teachers, and becoming more independent.
But apparently, not eating cucumbers.
Rose allowed herself a small smile as a burden lifted from her shoulders. She should’ve focused on where Mari had improved instead of wallowing in the negative.
“Tomorrow’s another day,” she told herself. “And Mari will be—”
“You gettin’ out?” Tom leaned into the passenger door, bending his tall frame down to look at her under the brim of his cowboy hat.
Rose startled and her face heated when she thought of him listening to her talk to herself.
“Yes. Yeah, I’m getting out.” She fumbled with the door handle and managed to free herself from the vehicle. She straightened and met Tom’s eye over the roof of her sedan.
“Hey.” She peered past him toward the riding ring. “You see which way Mari went?”
“She ran like the wind toward the barn.” He nodded back behind Rose. “I’ve got your coffee on.” He gestured toward the house a hundred yards from the parking lot. “Well, Chelsea’s got your coffee on.” He gave her a lazy smile, and she couldn’t help returning it.
“Thanks, Tom.” She glanced over her shoulder to the barn. “You think…?”
“She’ll be fine. Pete’s with her.” Tom started walking toward the house.
“You usually train with her,” Rose said, hating the worried shiver in her tone. “She’s…she’s been having a hard time lately.”
“Not out here.” Tom stepped closer to her, and Rose almost tripped though the dirt road was fairly smooth. “Give yourself a break,” he said. “You sounded pretty tired on the phone.”
“Oh, great,” Rose said. “That’s just what I want to hear.” She nudged him with her elbow. “Do I look terrible too?”
“’Course not.” Tom stuffed his hat lower over his eyes so she couldn’t see them. She didn’t have to look at him to know he had the darkest pair of midnight eyes. Beautiful, midnight eyes she could lose herself in if she wasn’t careful. And if Rose had learned one thing, it was not to get suckered in by a beautiful pair of midnight eyes.
Yet somehow she still found herself thinking of Tom and his calm, steady manner whenever she contemplated the type of man she’d like to marry one day.
One day in the far future, she told herself as Tom ushered her through Pete and Chelsea’s back fence and into the yard.
One thing Rose knew, she wouldn’t remarry until Mari was an adult and able to take care of herself. Still, Rose cast a longing glance at Tom, wondering what had kept the handsome cowboy from getting snatched up.
* * *
Tom’s phone buzzed as he reached the sliding glass door at the back of Pete and Chelsea’s house. He checked the text and saw Chelsea’s name. Julie’s fussing. I’ll be upstairs if you need me.
He refrained from rolling his eyes. His dad said if he did it too often, his eyes might get stuck that way. But the only adequate reaction to a text like Chelsea’s was an eyeroll. See, the woman thought Tom needed to spend time alone with Rose. Then he’d be able to ask her out.
Even though Tom had repeatedly told her, and her husband Pete, and everyone else who ribbed him about his friendship with Rose, that he and Rose were only friends. The cowhands had given him copious amounts of unwanted advice for how to ask her out, and he’d given them enough eyerolls to be in danger of his eyes getting stuck.
Chelsea had been texting Kelly for three solid months about how they could get Tom a date. Even Kate, Brett’s wife, had spent hours of her time trying to get him to take out one of his friends. He’d tried with Tammy, and that had ended after the first date. Mutually, but Tom hadn’t been able to go back to the sports bar yet, and it had been months since they attended the hay festival together.
And for the past several weeks now, Tom had spent more than a healthy amount of time assuring everyone he wasn’t romantically interested in the gorgeous Rose Reyes.
Much as he wished she wouldn’t, Desi, his ex-girlfriend, popped into his mind. She seemed to be haunting him for the past month, always whispering to him that his cool demeanor toward women was as attractive as it was maddening. After their break-up a few years ago, Tom hadn’t really tried to find another woman.
Rose exhaled heavily, bringing him back to the warmth of Pete and Chelsea’s kitchen. Rose rubbed her hands together and sat down at the bar. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in Chelsea’s house. It’s nice.”
“Yeah, real nice.” Tom lifted the coffee pot and poured the hot liquid into a mug for Rose. He passed it to her and prepared one for himself. “Cream and sugar right there.”
Rose flashed him a grateful smile as she doctored up her coffee while he slid onto the stool next to her.
Tom sipped the dark brew, wishing he could think of something to say. He wasn’t particularly skilled with conversation, having grown up with an older brother and raised by a single dad after his mom went to work one day and never came home. Tom had been seven, and he hadn’t had a lot of women in his life since. Hadn’t needed them, hadn’t wanted them.
He glanced at Rose, at the dark caramel color of her skin, her deep brown eyes, her long hair the color of Houdini’s coat. Tom inwardly cringed at his comparison of this woman to a black quarter horse.
He cleared his throat. “So what’s been goin’ on with Mari?”
“She….” Rose waved her free hand toward the sink. “She has Autism.”
Tom studied her, trying to find the root of her unhappiness. “Yeah, and?”
“And, I don’t know.” She looked at him and glanced away quickly. “Can I tell you a secret?”
Tom’s nerves buzzed and his skin felt too hot. “Sure, of course.”
“You won’t judge me?”
“I would never judge you.” Tom spoke with all the sincerity of his heart.
Her earnest expression caused him to lean closer. The way she’d asked for coffee earlier had alerted him to her distress. As soon as she’d hung up, he’d hurried over to Pete’s to see if he could take over Mari’s therapy.
“You’re a jumpy as a wet cat,” Pete had said. “When are you gonna ask that woman out?”
Tom hadn’t known how to answer. For the first time in all the months of teasing he’d endured, he’d never once considered Rose as more than a friend. But with Pete’s question, he hadn’t been prompted to roll his eyes and heave a sigh of exasperation.
Rose took a deep breath. “Okay, well, sometimes taking care of Mari is exhausting. I love her, don’t get me wrong, but she isn’t exactly chatty, and sometimes I just want someone to talk to. She’s been more emotional these past few months, and I know the therapist said that would be normal, but I’m going crazy.” She gave a little chuckle that sounded anything but happy.
“She’s going with her dad tomorrow, and I’ll admit that I’m really looking forward to her being gone.” She clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide.
Tom blinked in sync with Rose. He reached for her hands and gently lowered them from her face. “Rose.” Emotion laced the way he said her name. “You’re a great mom.”
She squeezed his fingers, and he stared at their entwined hands, adrenaline racing through his system. He released her like he’d been electrocuted, shocked at the heat rising from his stomach. Heat from touching Rose.
“I feel like a failure,” she said, tucking her hands around her coffee cup. “Sometimes we just eat cereal for dinner. And my yard is a mess, and the kitchen sink leaks, and most of the time I barely feel like I’ve got my head above water.”
Tom lowered his chin so he couldn’t see Rose, so he could work through these new, confusing feelings. “I can come help with the plumbing,” he said real low, the words barely escaping his throat. “You takin’ her to Amarillo or is Ed coming to get her?”
“He’s coming.”
Tom took a hot gulp of his coffee, trying to get his stomach to settle. “Great. I’ll come over in the morning.”
“You don’t need—”
“Rose.” He took a breath and looked up, right into her eyes. “I want to.”
Thankfully, she didn’t argue. Just nodded and took his phone to put in her address. When he took it back, he glanced at where her hands had been, a slow smile spreading his lips.
“You’re acting like fixing my pipes is going to be a picnic,” Rose teased.
“You volunteering to feed me lunch?” He grinned at her, hoping she’d say yes.
She did, and by the time she left, Tom knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep that night, excited as he was to fix a set of leaking pipes—or was he looking forward to seeing Rose again?
Confusion would definitely keep him awake tonight too.
* * *
The next morning, he wrangled Ethan out of bed just before dawn. “Come on, cowboy.” Tom nudged Ethan’s foot. “You said you’d cover chores for me this morning.”
“Didn’t say nothin’ about gettin’ up at dawn.”
“That’s what the morning chores are. Come on. I have an hour, and then I have to go.”
Ethan muttered under his breath, but he got up and pulled on a pair of jeans. Tom retreated from the bunks to the kitchenette, where he started a pot of coffee. A few minutes later, a more alert Ethan joined him.
The cowhand had come out to Three Rivers a couple of years ago, and though he had a mouth on him, he was a hard worker. He mussed his blond hair as he yawned. “You so owe me for this.”
“You’re getting paid,” Tom said. “And earning hours toward another day off.”
Ethan reached for a piece of bread and set it in the toaster. “That’s the only reason I agreed to this.” While he waited for the bread to brown, he pulled on a heavy jacket. “Where you goin’, anyway?”
Tom checked the coffee maker, hoping for nonchalance. “I have some business in town.”
“Business with Rose Reyes.” The toast popped up and Ethan turned to butter it. “I didn’t know the bank was open on Saturday.”
Tom opted not to answer, instead taking a clean mug out of the cupboard and pouring himself a cup of coffee. “I’ll start in the barn.”
Ethan wouldn’t like that, but Tom didn’t care much. He’d agreed to this morning’s chores; Tom didn’t have to help him at all. But he couldn’t sleep past five, used as he was to getting up and getting things done around the ranch.
He arrived in the barn quickly, but then slowed his pace. Wandering through the aisles, acknowledging the horses as they came to their gates for his morning greeting. He paused at Peony’s stall, the gentle creature nuzzling him with her warm nose.
“Hey, girl.” He gave her an affectionate pat before continuing down the line. Houdini, Tom’s favored horse, nickered a hello.
Tom grinned at him and leaned against his railing. “Morning to you too, Dini.” A working horse, Houdini liked going out in the cool mornings the way Tom did. Houdini was more wild than the other horses Tom had taken a shine to, but loyal and strong.
He seemed to know when weekends came ‘round, because he nudged Tom’s shoulder with his nose before retreating in his stall for another doze.
That was Tom’s cue to get to work. He went down the line, filling water troughs and hay bins. He checked on Iris, the pregnant mare due to give birth in another month or so. He made her stand so he could rake out her straw before giving her a fresh bed.
“There you go,” he told her, a stream of satisfaction bubbling beneath his skin when she settled down and went right back to sleep.
Peace descended on Tom as he cut through the cold morning to his cabin. He loved the hard, physical labor of ranching. It reminded him of what had always been solid in his life, what never left, never changed.
He showered, his mind revolving around the mother he hadn’t spoken to for two decades. He wondered if she ever thought about him. If she remembered his birthday. If she knew how deep her actions had sliced.
Tom’s father never spoke of his wife. Tom didn’t know if they’d gotten divorced or not. His dad had never remarried, choosing instead to dedicate his life to his boys and the ranch he ran in Montana.
As Tom scrubbed the stink of horse from his hair, he understood his father on a deeper level. Fear frothed up with the soap as he thought about his reaction to touching Rose’s hands. Did he really want a woman in his life? One who could up and leave at any given moment, without a phone call, a hug good-bye?
He leaned his head back and let the spray hit his throat, frustrated that his mother affected him so strongly, after so many years.
Tom’s cell phone rang, sending his heart into his throat. Maybe Rose needed to cancel. As his pulse settled, he thought he might just be able to say he hadn’t gotten her message.
He stepped out of the shower, toweled off, and went into his bedroom. A blue light flashed on his phone, and he hesitated before swiping it on. Eventually, he did, only to find a missed call from his older brother, Jace.
As if his circular thoughts about their mother had summoned the call. Tom smiled at the screen. No message. His brother never left one. He had more to say than Tom, but he rarely did it on a recording.
Tom called him back while he pulled out a fresh pair of jeans.
“Jace,” he said when his brother picked up on the second ring. “It’s early.”
“I know, I remembered that after the phone started ringing. Sorry.”
“I was up. In the shower.”
“I just got back from my morning chores.”
Tom set the phone on speaker and started getting dressed. “So, what’s goin’ on?” Jace worked the ranch where they’d grown up, after a brief stint of trying college. Wasn’t for him, he claimed, and he’d gone back to Montana and started working for their father.
Tom had tried the Army, and when that didn’t work out, he had nowhere else to go. His father knew a couple of ranchers down here, so Tom moved south. He’d bounced from ranch to ranch for a year or two before finally settling at Three Rivers.
“Dad fell last night,” Jace said, and everything in Tom’s world stalled. His voice couldn’t seem to battle its way to the surface.
“It wasn’t bad,” Jace added. “But I took him to the hospital anyway. He has a foot fracture.”
Tom thought of his tall, strong father. No way he’d stay off that foot. “No cast?”
“No cast.” Jace sighed. “I’m sure you know what that means.”
“He was out doing chores this morning too.”
“Yep.” Jace chuckled, and the concerned sound echoed through the line, assaulting Tom’s ears. “Anyway, I wanted you to know. Maybe you can put his name on your church’s prayer roll or something.”
Tom didn’t come from a religious family. His father lived, breathed, and worked a cattle ranch. He claimed he didn’t have time for organized religion, but he’d taken Tom and Jace to services on Christmas and Easter.
When Tom had come to Texas, he’d enjoyed his Sundays at church more than he thought he would. Jace leaned more toward their father’s side of the line, but he respected Tom and his beliefs.
“Sure thing, Jace.” He hesitated, not quite sure what else to say.
“And one note of good news,” Jace said, a smile infusing his voice. “You know how I’ve been saving for that diamond ring?”
“Yeah.”
“I finally have enough. I’m gonna ask Wendy to marry me.”
Tom’s throat tightened and released. His brother didn’t seem to have any of Tom’s anxiety over women and marriage. “When?”
“I don’t know. Soon, I think. I need to make a plan.”
Tom heard his father’s words in Jace’s, and he wondered if sometimes he and Jace planned too much. Rose’s face danced through his mind’s eye, and Tom realized why he hadn’t seen her standing right in front of him.
He had no plan. No plan to find a woman and marry her. No plan to look at Rose as anything but what she already was: His friend.
Had everyone else seen something between them he hadn’t? His fingers tingled, as if reminding him of how soft her skin had been.
“Good luck,” he told his brother, telling himself the same thing. He whistled as he brushed his teeth and donned his cowboy hat. He had no idea if something could exist between him and Rose. Didn’t even know if he wanted something to exist between them. But Tom Lovell knew one thing: He didn’t want to miss someone standing right in front of him because he was too busy being a horseman.
