The Cowboy's Homecoming Surprise (Fly Creek) Page 7

  Only as her feet hit the living room floor, he was nowhere to be seen. The smell of coffee drew her eyes and there, affixed to the small coffeepot, was a note.

  Went to deal with the trees.

  Disappointment flushed the adrenaline right out of her system. She’d been ready. Ready to point out all the mistakes. Ready to make him understand that something like last night would never happen again. And the damn man had ruined her plans once again.

  She flung open a cabinet, grabbing a coffee cup and slamming it on the counter. Probably not the smartest move, but her anger needed an outlet before she would have to face the ranch hands and workers. Leaning against the counter, she begrudgingly enjoyed the pot of coffee as she evaluated Ryder Marks and how to proceed with him until Friday. There would be no living with him after this.

  …

  “Need a hand?”

  Ryder looked up to see Dan Rigby trotting his mare down the road. A smile overtook the frown Peyton’s hasty exit this morning had placed on his face. They’d been like brothers growing up, and Ryder had been eternally grateful that his parents had pseudo-adopted the young boy when family problems made it impossible for him to remain in his house. His mother was an expert fusser, but with two boys his share had lessened, and he’d likened Dan to an answered prayer.

  When he’d made the decision to leave, some of the guilt surrounding his mother had been unburdened knowing Dan would be there to take his place. Dan loved Sky Lake as much as Ryder did. And it appeared it had, if not flourished under his hand, definitely improved. In fact, several of the suggestions his father had vehemently vetoed prior to his leaving had suspiciously made their way to the ranch. Ryder had to wonder if it was Dan’s doing, and if so, why his father had so readily accepted help from the man and not his own son.

  “An extra set of hands might come in handy.” He ran his eyes over Dan’s mount, guessing it easily sixteen hands. “That horse of yours skittish? I can have this ripped up in no time but my saw makes a ruckus. The chain’s aged just right in my opinion but not always the opinion of those around to hear it.”

  Dan patted the mane of the cremello he was on. “Shady here is about as cool as they come in ranch horses. She’s the offspring of Shine.”

  Ryder whistled. “Good ole Shine. She’s a damn fine horse.”

  “Was,” Dan said.

  Damn. He should have expected that. Shine had been nearly fifteen when he left. Time hadn’t stood still. He hadn’t been naive enough to think it had, but hearing about the passing of Shine punched home just how much time had marched on while he’d been in Alaska.

  Dan jumped down and pulled the reins over Shady’s head. “It’s part of life, Ryder. And definitely part of ranching life. She passed on at the water paddock. Laid down, went to sleep, and never woke up.”

  Ryder nodded, unsure if the emotion currently clogging his throat would spill over into words. Dan led the horse to a nearby tree and looped the reins. Tugging the end tight, he scratched the mare between her ears and crossed back.

  “So you and the saw are intimately acquainted?”

  Ryder laughed and stroked the hand guard. “This baby and I cuddled many a cold Alaska night.”

  Dan clapped him on the back. “It’s good to have you back, man.”

  “Thanks. Nice to know there are a few of you who feel that way.” He thought of Peyton’s parting words this morning and her subsequent fleeing. Memories of the night, which, granted, was something of an unlooked-for surprise, were now tainted by her obvious regret.

  “Give her time.”

  Ryder looked up. “What?”

  “I said, give Peyton some time. You don’t know what it was like for her. And now in the same abrupt fashion you left ten years ago, you’ve come back. You know her. She likes order. You messed it up.”

  And just like that, the confusion of the morning and Dan’s words converged into a shot of jealousy. Dan knew Peyton. Knew her well enough to believe he understood what Ryder was hinting at. He should be the one supporting Peyton, not Dan. Shouldn’t he?

  He gripped the hand guard tighter. “Sorry to disrupt everyone’s life. Wasn’t aware that coming back to my home needed preparation.”

  Dan kicked a rock. “Man, give it up. I’ve never sugarcoated anything before and I’m not going to start now. You left. You left in the middle of the night. Your mother was a wreck. Your father walked around snapping off everyone’s head. Even the horses wouldn’t go near him for months. And Peyton—”

  “Please don’t talk to me about Peyton.” Ryder placed the saw on the ground. He couldn’t take anymore. He hated what his leaving had done to her. Done to them. To his daughter.

  “She was pregnant!”

  He shoved Dan. “I didn’t know she was pregnant. Damn it. Don’t you think you could stop for two minutes and realize that I lost ten years of my daughter’s life? Ten years!”

  “Then why the hell did you leave? How could you leave her?”

  Ryder growled. “I didn’t have a choice.”

  “Stop it. Everyone has choices. No one knows that better than me. Whatever it was, you face it like a man. You don’t run out on your family.”

  “You know what, I don’t need help. Go do whatever it is you do around here.”

  Ryder busied himself checking the choke and chain on his saw. Dan walked away and mounted his horse, but Ryder refused to look at him again. Add one more person to the not happy he was home list. Shady whinnied and the ground vibrated under Ryder’s boots as Dan moved closer to where Ryder stood.

  “You just make sure that chip of regret that’s permanently attached to your shoulder doesn’t affect your daughter. Mel’s amazing, and the last thing she deserves is a father who brings his baggage into the relationship.”

  “Get the hell out of here and don’t you ever tell me what to do with my daughter again.”

  Thankfully, hoofbeats thundered, sounding farther and farther away. Ryder pulled the ripcord and felt the familiar vibration work through his body. He’d never focused so hard on ripping up a tree in the ten years since he’d harvested his first log.

  …

  Peyton watched Ryder from the safety of the Loop Trail. Her vantage spot allowed her to look down on him as he took care of the pesky tree with a single-minded purpose. He’d argued with Dan. She may not have heard the words, but the stances and the way Dan tore off led her to believe that the argument hadn’t been pleasant. Now Ryder attacked the wood like a man whose very soul depended on the job he did. She could see the frustration with every splinter of wood. Leave it to Ryder to be home less than two days and already be stirring up more trouble than a rattlesnake under a hoof.

  Ryder paused, cutting the saw off and laying it on the ground. He stretched and flexed his hands and the resulting warmth through her body produced a snort. It really was ridiculous. Ten years she’d been without a man, despite being surrounded by them. A few, she knew, had just been waiting for a sign, and yet she hadn’t given in because she hadn’t felt anything. No spark, no warmth. And then five minutes in that damn lumberjack’s presence and her body was a raging inferno. Fourth of July fireworks mixed with a volcanic eruption. What had she been thinking sleeping with him last night? And what had he been thinking letting it happen?

  The saw wound up again and Ryder finished up the last of the cuts. He picked up the round circles and stacked them off to the side of the lane. A ranch hand arrived to lend some muscle and Peyton smiled. Most likely Dan’s doing.

  The two of them finished moving the wood and Peyton stood frozen long after they’d left. She’d thought she’d find answers. A way forward with him. She still didn’t believe he planned on staying despite his words last night, but he’d helped her this morning with the downed trees, without being asked. Jumped right back into the place he’d abandoned. Plus, he wanted to see Mel. And even more, he deserved to see Mel. But what did all that add up to? What was her role vis-à-vis him? And why the hell had she slept with him?

/>   A gust blew through the small strand of trees around her and she shook off the chill. Eerie premonition if one believed in them, but Peyton didn’t. She believed in calm and order and dictating where things needed to and should go. So she would dictate this. All interactions henceforth would be strictly platonic. Strictly businesslike and totally and completely in public.

  She arrived back at the main lodge without encountering Ryder. Entering her office, she plopped in her chair and pulled up her email. She may be running the ranch, but she still had her normal tasks to complete. At least enough to tread water until Shelby and Mitch returned.

  Five minutes later, her chin was propped on clasped hands, visions of a night she shouldn’t be thinking about filtering through her head.

  “While I’m a huge fan of letting inspiration strike, I somehow imagine the answers you’re seeking won’t be found in a still portrait of a moose.”

  Peyton smiled at Emily and motioned to the chair across from her desk. “I don’t know. Moose are stately, majestic creatures. Perhaps I need help being stately.”

  Emily settled into the chair, tucking her legs up under her. “The only help you need is figuring out how to wipe the silly, I-had-sex grin off your face.”

  To deny it would be fruitless. Only a best friend would look close enough to recognize it, and only this particular best friend would have prior experience in the “I had sex, what hell was I thinking?” department.

  Emily continued. “Is the moose contemplating more about dealing with regret, or figuring out a way forward?”

  Peyton drummed her fingers on the desk. “Kinda hard to regret something you can’t stop replaying.”

  Emily sighed. “Been there myself, sister.”

  “But I feel like I need to have the regret to find the way forward. Does that make any sense?”

  Emily held her questioning gaze for a long time, and Peyton wondered if her always-astute friend had finally been stumped. The reality was a little rougher.

  “Can’t the way forward be a happy one rather than one full of what you think it should be?”

  Peyton’s mouth snapped open then shut. Emily surely wasn’t implying that she be with Ryder. That was crazy. The trust was gone. Her heart would be shattered when he left again.

  Except you were with him. Last night. And he’s staying.

  When Peyton continued to stare despite the warmth flooding her cheeks, Emily managed a weak smile. “Honey, no one knows better than me the power of the past. The power of what we think we knew. But take it from me. There’s always three stories in the past and none of them are worth your future.”

  She didn’t understand. “Ryder isn’t my future.”

  Emily shrugged. “Maybe he isn’t. But promise me. Before you discount him and toss him away with years of questions and emotions, think about the fact that in two days he’s managed to rock your world and put a smile on your face.”

  Oh, he’d rocked her world all right, and the foundation that came with it.

  Emily came around the desk and gave her a quick hug. She was halfway through the door when she looked over her shoulder. “You still coming over for dinner tonight?”

  Crap, dinner with her and Adam. She’d forgotten about it. A red flag the size of China. Peyton Brooks didn’t forget things, as evidenced by the constant replay of scenes from last night. But she’d forgotten dinner plans with her best friend.

  “I’ll be there, and I’m bringing the wine. No arguments.”

  “Deal.” She tapped the doorframe. “See ya later.”

  Peyton forced herself to focus on her work, but when she found herself compiling a list of pros and cons to being with Ryder, she threw her notepad on the floor and went in search of food.

  Broken heart, no trust, lack of communication. She chanted the top reasons over and over but when she caught a glimpse of Ryder through the lobby doors, rubbing a mare’s snout, she had a hard time convincing herself that the pain she might endure wouldn’t be worth the chance to get to know the man he had become.

  Until then she needed to steer clear of him and keep to her public-space-only plan.

  Chapter Eight

  Peyton had one foot on the bottom step of Emily’s porch when her friend ripped open the door. She slammed it behind her and leaned against it with both hands braced on the doorframe.

  “Don’t be mad. He meant well.”

  Peyton backed off the porch, pretty sure even the fires of hell wouldn’t get her into the Conleys’ cabin.

  Emily took a step toward her. “I guess it’s my fault, really. I just didn’t think it was my story to share. And Adam’s relatively new in town, and even though if he’d thought about it he could have put two and two together, he didn’t think. Well, not about that. He was just thinking about being nice and a home-cooked meal and—”

  “Em, stop.”

  Emily’s shoulders slumped. “Sorry.”

  Peyton turned and looked longingly at her house. It was a hundred yards away. Comfort. A warm bed. Peach schnapps. A locked door. She could be there before Emily could react, and she would be safe. No more confusion. No more anger, mixed with arousal, mixed with anxiety.

  She snorted. Who the hell was she kidding? She might be safe from Ryder’s physical presence, but the emotional baggage was riding the luggage carousel in her head. And there was no one around to unload it. At least if she was with him she could keep an eye on him. Plus, there would be people. Sane people. People who wouldn’t let her flounder.

  Turning back around, she managed something resembling a smile. “A foursome it is.”

  Her boot heels echoed on each step of the porch, and she had to take a deep breath before crossing over the threshold behind Emily.

  There. She was inside, and it smelled incredible. If nothing else, the evening would involve good food.

  Her eyes sought him out. It was as if they couldn’t help themselves. As if they didn’t remember what he was. What he did. What they’d done.

  He wore nothing spectacular—Wranglers and a plaid, long-sleeve shirt. What every other cowboy and ranch hand in these parts wore, and yet only on him did it flush her body with heat and stir every nerve ending she possessed.

  Maybe the problem was she’d purposely avoided looking at men over the years. She’d denied herself, so of course he looked better. Well, that ended today. Starting tomorrow she would ogle every damn man within a ten-foot perimeter of her.

  Adam came over and hugged her. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered as he kissed her cheek.

  She smiled as best she could. The damn butterflies in her stomach, thanks to Ryder and his stupid run of the mill plaid shirt, were wreaking havoc with her sense of normal. Adam, although not knowing her for long, knew her well enough that he recognized the smile for what it was. A charade of epic proportions.

  Ryder stayed put, leaning against the island separating the kitchen from the main living space, his hand loosely cradling a longneck.

  “Ryder.”

  “Peyton.”

  And she was tapped out with conversation. Thankfully, Emily and Adam took charge and in less than five minutes the four of them were seated and passing around the salad.

  “This is delicious, Adam,” Peyton said, licking a stray drop of raspberry vinaigrette from her lips. Her gaze traveled to Ryder only to find him staring, fork halfway to his mouth. She immediately focused on the loaf of bread next to the salad bowl.

  “Thanks,” Adam answered. “But Em actually made it.”

  “Don’t sound so shocked.” She swatted her husband on the arm. “Y’all act as if I can’t cook.”

  Peyton laughed as Adam rubbed his lovely wife’s back. She beamed at him and the lettuce in Peyton’s throat turned to glue. Reaching for her wine, she dropped her gaze, jealousy burning a hole in her stomach.

  Emily and Adam had been through a lot to get to where they were, and she didn’t begrudge them anything. But she wondered why couldn’t she have the same thing. On the heels of that ridic
ulous thought came the notion that she’d never allowed herself to think of having such a relationship. And then her damn traitorous eyes rose of their own volition to fasten on the man whose feet she would dearly love to lay the blame at.

  He met her gaze with his own. It was a mixture of longing, desire, and pain. Had he given up on what Emily and Adam had as well? Or now that he’d returned home, would he finally seek the final piece to whatever future he’d been orchestrating for the past ten years? Would there be another woman? Another woman who wanted to play a role in Mel’s life?

  Over my dead body.

  The vehemence of that thought rattled Peyton. And then she laughed at the absurdity. She was ready to battle an imaginary stepmother. Lord, she had enough problems without creating new ones.

  “What’s so funny?”

  Damn it. What is my problem? She smiled at Emily. “Nothing. Just thinking about the apple tart disaster.”

  Emily slapped her hand on the table. “They were defective apples.”

  Adam and Peyton broke into giggles as Emily pleaded her apple tart case. Peyton chanced a glance at Ryder only to see him smiling at Emily’s impassioned defense. He’d always gotten along with everyone. The easygoing golden boy. Only he wasn’t golden. He was dark, inside and out.

  Wasn’t he?

  She no longer knew. Glimpses over the past few days, moments, words—all added up to a missing piece. A different man. A different reason for his leaving than the one she’d created—that he hadn’t loved her enough to stay.

  Did it matter?

  Three days ago she would have said no.

  Now?

  Well, now she somehow thought it did.

  Adam excused himself and went into the kitchen, returning with plates of salmon and asparagus. He placed one in front of Emily and just as he reached around Peyton to put hers down, Emily bolted from the table.

  Adam dropped the rest of the plates onto the table in a clatter and went after his wife. A moment later, retching sounds came from the bathroom along with Adam’s deep voice murmuring words of support.