Retreat
Page 7
Annoyed at the morose thoughts, I plucked the ranch brochure that Em had been toting around like some kind of vacation bible for the last few weeks out of the top of her bag and thumbed through it.
There were pictures of the mountains and the beautiful terrain. A flawless mountain lake fed by a pristine river and, of course, there was a requisite fisherman in waders in the image with a smile the size of Montana on his face. There were pictures of attractively dressed tourists on gorgeous horses loaded down with gear, all of them laughing and clearly having a grand old time. There were pictures of the adorable cabins and the stables, full of horses. There was a picture of Sutton sitting on a horse. I tapped it with a finger because he had on a black Stetson and a jean jacket with shearling at the collar. He was leaning on the saddle horn and because he seemed incapable of smiling, he looked every bit the rugged and trail-ready cowboy. There was also a picture of Lane. The brother who did smile. In the picture, he was doing just that as he sat in front of a blazing campfire with a guitar in his hands. He also had on a cowboy hat, only his was straw and his shirt was similar to the trendy flannel one I had just changed into. In the brochure, they were full-on cowboy; in person, not so much.
I snorted and flipped the thing over. I couldn’t stop the breath that I sucked in when I saw the picture on the back. There were a few images of the main house and the huge wooden dining table that looked like it was straight out of the show Vikings. There was a picture of a gorgeous, redheaded woman laughing with her head thrown back as she kneaded dough on a flour-covered counter. But, it was the picture of Cyrus Warner in his office, sitting behind a massive desk, leaning back in a leather wingback chair, with his arms crossed over his broad chest, and an intense look on his face, that sucked the air right out of my lungs. It wasn’t like any office I had ever seen before. There was a gigantic longhorn skull hanging on the wall above his head. It looked like the lighting fixture was made from an old stagecoach wheel. Not to mention the adjacent chairs were covered in a cowhide pattern that I was willing to bet was actually from a cow. It was unmistakably western and unquestionably an office that belonged on a ranch. It was also unequivocally masculine and powerful, exactly like that man who commanded the space. Even in print he was impressive, but still nowhere close to being considered a cowboy. Unlike his brothers, he was dressed much like he had been today, black T-shirt, slickly styled hair with the glint of silver on the sides. He didn’t look like a cowboy or a businessman. He didn’t look like anything I could label or compartmentalize, which made a shiver of challenge and curiosity shoot up my spine.
“You’re finally interested in how we’re spending our time this week?” Emrys exited the bathroom with her long hair wrapped up in a towel and a billow of steam following. She was dressed similarly to how I was, though that was how she had arrived as well. Unlike me, Em was well acquainted with the great outdoors. “I’m glad. I really think we’ll have a lot of fun if you give it a chance.”
I sighed and tossed the brochure next to me on the bed. “You did see where it said you need to be a proficient rider, right? I haven’t been on a horse since I was a teenager.”
One of the extracurricular activities I’d wanted to try when I was younger was horseback riding. My grandpa had grown up around horses in Texas, well before he’d moved to Northern California. He’s been elated when I showed an interest in something that we could do together. He signed me up for riding lessons at a local equestrian center faster than I could say ‘giddy up’. I stuck with the lessons for a whole summer. I got pretty good with the big animals and really started to love riding. I liked the way being in total control of such a massive and powerful animal made me feel. Or at least I did until I got thrown when a skittish mount, that didn’t want to take a jump, tossed me like I weighed nothing. I broke my wrist in two places and decided I’d had enough of horseback riding. It was too unpredictable and I didn’t have as much control as I fooled myself into thinking I did. Story of my life it seemed. I bailed and never went near a horse again. I hated to fail, and when I did, I didn’t risk a repeat of the experience.
“Proficient doesn’t mean professional. You know how to put on a saddle, and a bridle, and you can ride for several hours a day without falling off. That was all the waiver we signed required.” She took her hair out of the towel, the dark waves cascading down around her shoulders like black silk. “I haven’t been on a horse in years. Not since I dated that Spanish polo player in college.”
We exchanged a look and both let out a dreamy sigh. The polo player had been hot, but then again, every man Em dated was hot. My best friend didn’t do average. It was one of the traits I most admired about her. She refused to settle for anything.
“Your hair looks cute like that.” She reached out and pulled on the end of one of the pigtails as I got up from the bed. “Very Elly May Clampett.”
I swatted her hand away as my stomach growled, letting me know the cereal bar and the Pepsi I’d guzzled hadn’t been enough sustenance for the day.
“I think Elly May was a hillbilly, not a cowgirl. Let’s head up to that house, I’m starving.”
She pointed to her still soaking wet hair and lifted an eyebrow. “I need to dry this mop first, but you can head up without me.”
I knew that her hair would take a minimum of a half an hour to get even remotely dry, since she had so damn much of it. I was going to tell her that I would just wait for her when my stomach made another angry sound that was loud enough that even she heard it. She lifted both her eyebrows at me as I slapped a hand over the offending noise and felt heat work its way into my face.
There were pictures of the mountains and the beautiful terrain. A flawless mountain lake fed by a pristine river and, of course, there was a requisite fisherman in waders in the image with a smile the size of Montana on his face. There were pictures of attractively dressed tourists on gorgeous horses loaded down with gear, all of them laughing and clearly having a grand old time. There were pictures of the adorable cabins and the stables, full of horses. There was a picture of Sutton sitting on a horse. I tapped it with a finger because he had on a black Stetson and a jean jacket with shearling at the collar. He was leaning on the saddle horn and because he seemed incapable of smiling, he looked every bit the rugged and trail-ready cowboy. There was also a picture of Lane. The brother who did smile. In the picture, he was doing just that as he sat in front of a blazing campfire with a guitar in his hands. He also had on a cowboy hat, only his was straw and his shirt was similar to the trendy flannel one I had just changed into. In the brochure, they were full-on cowboy; in person, not so much.
I snorted and flipped the thing over. I couldn’t stop the breath that I sucked in when I saw the picture on the back. There were a few images of the main house and the huge wooden dining table that looked like it was straight out of the show Vikings. There was a picture of a gorgeous, redheaded woman laughing with her head thrown back as she kneaded dough on a flour-covered counter. But, it was the picture of Cyrus Warner in his office, sitting behind a massive desk, leaning back in a leather wingback chair, with his arms crossed over his broad chest, and an intense look on his face, that sucked the air right out of my lungs. It wasn’t like any office I had ever seen before. There was a gigantic longhorn skull hanging on the wall above his head. It looked like the lighting fixture was made from an old stagecoach wheel. Not to mention the adjacent chairs were covered in a cowhide pattern that I was willing to bet was actually from a cow. It was unmistakably western and unquestionably an office that belonged on a ranch. It was also unequivocally masculine and powerful, exactly like that man who commanded the space. Even in print he was impressive, but still nowhere close to being considered a cowboy. Unlike his brothers, he was dressed much like he had been today, black T-shirt, slickly styled hair with the glint of silver on the sides. He didn’t look like a cowboy or a businessman. He didn’t look like anything I could label or compartmentalize, which made a shiver of challenge and curiosity shoot up my spine.
“You’re finally interested in how we’re spending our time this week?” Emrys exited the bathroom with her long hair wrapped up in a towel and a billow of steam following. She was dressed similarly to how I was, though that was how she had arrived as well. Unlike me, Em was well acquainted with the great outdoors. “I’m glad. I really think we’ll have a lot of fun if you give it a chance.”
I sighed and tossed the brochure next to me on the bed. “You did see where it said you need to be a proficient rider, right? I haven’t been on a horse since I was a teenager.”
One of the extracurricular activities I’d wanted to try when I was younger was horseback riding. My grandpa had grown up around horses in Texas, well before he’d moved to Northern California. He’s been elated when I showed an interest in something that we could do together. He signed me up for riding lessons at a local equestrian center faster than I could say ‘giddy up’. I stuck with the lessons for a whole summer. I got pretty good with the big animals and really started to love riding. I liked the way being in total control of such a massive and powerful animal made me feel. Or at least I did until I got thrown when a skittish mount, that didn’t want to take a jump, tossed me like I weighed nothing. I broke my wrist in two places and decided I’d had enough of horseback riding. It was too unpredictable and I didn’t have as much control as I fooled myself into thinking I did. Story of my life it seemed. I bailed and never went near a horse again. I hated to fail, and when I did, I didn’t risk a repeat of the experience.
“Proficient doesn’t mean professional. You know how to put on a saddle, and a bridle, and you can ride for several hours a day without falling off. That was all the waiver we signed required.” She took her hair out of the towel, the dark waves cascading down around her shoulders like black silk. “I haven’t been on a horse in years. Not since I dated that Spanish polo player in college.”
We exchanged a look and both let out a dreamy sigh. The polo player had been hot, but then again, every man Em dated was hot. My best friend didn’t do average. It was one of the traits I most admired about her. She refused to settle for anything.
“Your hair looks cute like that.” She reached out and pulled on the end of one of the pigtails as I got up from the bed. “Very Elly May Clampett.”
I swatted her hand away as my stomach growled, letting me know the cereal bar and the Pepsi I’d guzzled hadn’t been enough sustenance for the day.
“I think Elly May was a hillbilly, not a cowgirl. Let’s head up to that house, I’m starving.”
She pointed to her still soaking wet hair and lifted an eyebrow. “I need to dry this mop first, but you can head up without me.”
I knew that her hair would take a minimum of a half an hour to get even remotely dry, since she had so damn much of it. I was going to tell her that I would just wait for her when my stomach made another angry sound that was loud enough that even she heard it. She lifted both her eyebrows at me as I slapped a hand over the offending noise and felt heat work its way into my face.
