'Tis the Season: Under the Christmas Tree / Midnight Confessions / Backward Glance. Robyn Carr
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Thoroughbreds, disciplined and with just the right amount of spirit. The conversation about breeding, training, racing and showing horses was so stimulating she could almost forget for a while that she was trying not to fall in love with him.
“I’m not around horse people enough anymore,” she said. “When I was riding in competition as a girl, that was enough to keep me occupied twenty-four hours a day. No wonder I didn’t have fun in college—I wasn’t riding.”
“You’re good on a horse,” he said. “You should ride every day. So should I—it’s the best part of what I do.”
They rode into the foothills behind Nate’s stables along a trail that, although covered by a layer of snow, had been well used. The trees rose high above them and the sun was lowering in the afternoon sky. They talked about growing up as the youngest in their families, and the only one of their gender. While Annie’s brothers treated her like a football, Nathaniel’s older sisters played with him as if he were a baby doll they could dress up at will. “It’s amazing I’m not weirder than I am,” he said. “The next oldest is Patricia, who’s thirty-seven. Then Susan, and the oldest is Christina—one every two years. My parents had decided to quit while they were ahead and then, bingo.” He grinned. “Me. I upset the balance in a big way.”
“I think a similar thing happened at the farm,” she said. “The boys are thirty-three, thirty-four and thirty-seven. Then I came along and upset the bedroom situation. My parents decided I had to have my own, which left one for the boys. And then I raised a bull—did I mention he won a blue ribbon?”
“Several times, I believe.”
“We actually needed him. We had a couple of old bulls who just couldn’t step up to the plate anymore, y’know? But Erasmus was Ready Freddy. I’m real proud of that old bull.” She smiled. “My brothers had their shot at raising animals and they did all right, but Erasmus was the blue-ribbon baby. I blew my brothers out of the 4-H water with that guy.” She sighed wistfully. “I think having a daughter was harder on my dad and brothers than being the only girl was on me. And being the only girl wasn’t easy. They were ruthless.”
“Yet protective?” he asked.
“It’s an uncomfortable place sometimes, to be tossed around like a beanbag and hovered over like a china doll.”
“Did they make it hard on your boyfriends?” he asked.
“There weren’t very many boyfriends,” she said.
“I don’t believe you,” he replied with a grin. “You’re lying to make me feel better.”
So she told him about Ed. She hadn’t planned to, but this was a perfect segue to explaining that she might have an issue or two with trust. Not only had the man in the only really serious relationship of her adult life cheated on her, horribly, but she had never had a clue. That bothered her. After it was over, it was so obvious, but while it was going on, she was oblivious. Not good.
They were headed back toward the stables when she told him. She expected him to be sympathetic and sweet. Instead, he was fascinated. “Are you serious? He had about three women going at once? Scattered around? Telling each one he was in love with only her? Really?”
“Really,” she said, annoyed.
“How in the world did he manage that?” Nate asked.
“Well, a lot of phone calls while he was working. He talked to each one of us every day, sometimes several times a day. But with very few exceptions, we were assigned certain nights. We thought those were the days he didn’t have to leave town. I should have known where I stood in the line. I was getting Mondays and Tuesdays. The woman he decided was the real one in his life was getting the weekends—Saturdays and Sundays. She dumped him, of course, when she discovered Ms. Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays. Three days a week must be the trump, huh?”
“Holy cow,” Nate said. “He didn’t even need a house or apartment! He had all his nights covered!”
“You know, I’m not impressed by his ability to pull it off.”
“Of course you’re not,” Nate said. “But if you just think about it, he had quite a scam going. Did he take you lots of places? Buy you nice things?”
“He couldn’t do either,” she explained. “First of all, he couldn’t risk being seen out and about with a woman, since one of the other women or their friends might run into him. So he said he was so tired, and after a week of being on the road and eating in restaurants, he enjoyed staying home.”
“Where you could cook for him,” Nate stated.
She pursed her lips, narrowed her eyes and nodded. “He did buy me a hot-water heater when mine went out,” she admitted. “He might’ve needed that hot shower,” she muttered.
“The man’s a genius,” Nate said. Then upon studying her face, he said, “Oh, he’s a bastard, but you have to give him some credit for all the planning and subterfuge that—”
“I give him no credit,” she said harshly.
He grabbed her hand then, pulled her closer and said, “Of course not. No credit. He should be killed. But I’m glad he didn’t choose you. What if he’d chosen you? Can you imagine? We’d never meet and fall in love!”
She was so stunned that she pulled back on the reins and stopped her horse. “Are we in love?” she asked.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m just getting started here—there’s lots of potential. And he doesn’t deserve you. I, however, deserve you. And will take you anywhere you want. And I’m going to hold your hand the whole time. I’ll feed you cookies and kiss your neck in public.”
“People will think I’m your girlfriend.”
“That’s what I want people to think. I’m going to start right away. We’re going to go out. We’ll drive into town to look at Christmas decorations, go to Virgin River to check out the tree and have some of Preacher’s dinner, and then I’m going to take you to a nice restaurant on the weekend. And anything else you feel like doing.”
“Why?” she asked.
“I want everyone to know you’re with me. I want everyone to know you’re not Sundays and Mondays—you’re every day.”
Again she pulled back on the reins and stopped her horse. “What’s sexier than a string bikini, Nathaniel?”
“Are you kidding me?” He reined in beside her. His voice grew quiet and serious. He rubbed a knuckle down her cheek, over her jaw, gazing into her dark eyes. “Denim turns me on. Long legs in jeans and boots astride a big horse, making him dance to subtle commands. A rough work shirt under a down vest, feeding a newborn foal with a bottle because the mare isn’t responding.” He threaded his fingers into her hair and said, “Silk, instead of cotton candy. A fire on a cold, snowy night. A woman in my arms, soft and content, happy with the same things that make me happy. Help making homemade pizza—that turns me on. A woman who knows how to deliver a calf when there’s trouble—that blows my horn. A woman who can muck out a stall and then fall into the fresh hay and let me fall right on top of her. I’d like to try that real soon.”
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