Echoes of the harshly spoken words battered her, the emotional blow rocking balance and stealing her breath as much as the ache in her left leg. Theresa forced herself to move as if she could run from the painful memories, but the best she could manage was a shuffling walk that failed to outdistance any of the raw images from that final fight with Michael.
“Maybe we should drive down to the stables,” Sophia was saying as Theresa made her way toward the porch.
The breeze cooled the sweat gathering at her hairline, and she was almost out of breath, but she’d made it from the gravel drive and up the three front steps. Waving a hand at one of the rockers, she said, “I’ll just wait here for him.”
“Theresa, no.”
“Sophia, yes,” she retorted. “I’ll be fine.”
The weather was crisp and cool, but far milder than the snowstorm she’d left behind in St. Louis. A small stream of sunlight filtered through the trees, bathing the corner of the porch with a warm glow. She’d brought her knee-length, red wool jacket and black leather gloves with her and would be perfectly warm enough to wait outside for Jarrett Deeks.
Between her time stuck in the hospital, in rehab and then at her parents’ house, she didn’t think she’d spent more than a few hours outside since the car accident. And most of that time was dedicated to the long, painful process of getting to and from doctors’ appointments.
“I’ll just get my bags and—”
But Sophia was already racing back toward the car with a cheery, “I’ve got them!”
And of course, she did. She had the wheeled suitcase and over-the-shoulder bag out of the trunk and back up on the porch before Theresa could have made her way down the front steps.
She pulled in a deep breath. After all, in the months since the accident, she’d learned a lot about patience, hadn’t she? Swallowing the anger, the frustration, the self-pity at her inability to complete the simplest tasks from bathing to walking to putting on her own shoes. She’d come a long way, and she just needed to hold on to that patience a little while longer and wait for the rest of her family to catch up.
So she simply said, “Thank you,” as her cousin set the luggage beside her.
Sophia beamed back and leaned in for a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Anger and frustration slipped away, and she was grinning by the time her cousin pulled back. “I am, too.”
“What’s so funny?”
“You still wear the same perfume, but you also smell like baby formula.”
Sophia rolled her eyes. “It’s the latest scent. Worn by exhausted new mothers everywhere.”
But Sophia didn’t look exhausted. With her dark hair cut in a short pixie style and her brown eyes sparkling, she looked as adorable as she had when they were kids and just as happy. Ignoring the twinge of jealousy, Theresa said, “You make it work. Now go back to that beautiful baby and hot husband of yours before he tracks you down like we both know he can.”
“He is rather amazing, isn’t he?” Sophia asked with a smile, but rapid blinking told Theresa she was fighting back tears. “He said he loved me enough for both of us and that it wouldn’t matter...”
“But you still wondered,” she filled in softly.
Her cousin shook her dark head. “I shouldn’t have. Not even for a second.”
“You’re a lucky woman, but I still think if you asked him, Jake would say he’s the fortunate one. He has you and your baby.”
“Two for the price of one,” Sophia joked. “Who doesn’t love a bargain?”
After another few minutes arguing that Theresa would be fine waiting by herself until Jarrett Deeks arrived, Sophia finally—reluctantly—agreed. She backed away from the small office with a wave, and Theresa waited until the car was out of sight before slowly lowering her aching body into the rocking chair. The long trip and mini-reunion at Sophia’s place had left her far more exhausted than she dared let on.
The chair swayed beneath her weight as her legs gave out, and she practically collapsed into the seat. She was glad Sophia had a man she could lean on, but past history had taught Theresa she was better off standing on her own—no matter how shaky she sometimes found the ground beneath her feet.
* * *
Jarrett Deeks swore beneath his breath as he heard the approaching sound of a car engine and the crunch of tires over the gravel lane leading past the stables. It could have been someone interested in boarding their horse at his place. Or maybe tourists wanting to take a late-afternoon ride on one of his many trail horses. Even a kind soul looking to adopt one of his rescue horses. Could have been. But he’d bet the ranch it wasn’t.
No, he was pretty sure that car carried his first paying customer and guest to his new rental cabins. He snorted as he gave the gelding he’d been brushing a final pat. When he’d placed ads in hunting and fishing magazines, his plan had been to target men like himself. Guys who enjoyed nature and wildlife and were looking for an escape from city life. Not that Clearville offered much in the way of city life. But the small-town sense of community was almost worse than crowded cities and their towering sky-rises.
Getting lost in the city was almost as easy as getting lost in the wilderness. Both could leave a man feeling small and insignificant, a breath away from disappearing and never being found again. But in this small town—
He couldn’t disappear if he tried. He’d hardly set foot on Main Street before half the townspeople seemed to know who he was while the other half was busy finding out. The instant curiosity and word of mouth had been a help, he had to admit, both to his rescue and to the stables. He didn’t doubt that it would give his newest venture into the hospitality business a boost, too.
But that still didn’t ease the uncertainty he felt about welcoming people onto his property. Though he’d lived much of his professional life in front of a crowd, he’d left that world behind. He had no interest in where-are-they-now stories showcasing him as a has-been bull rider.
The affinity he felt for the animals had given him a second lease on life when his rodeo career ended—when his fans, his friends, even the woman who claimed to love him disappeared from his life. He’d felt as lost as some of the horses and didn’t know where he might have ended up if the rescue hadn’t given him a new purpose.
His boots echoed on the concrete floor as he walked down the center aisle, a sense of pride filling him, as Silverbelle—his latest rescue—stuck her head over the top of a stall. Her long, graceful neck was extended as she looked for a treat. He handed her the piece of carrot he’d saved for her. She’d come a long way, and he was determined to keep the rescue going for other horses just like her.
That was where the idea for rental cabins came into play. Cabins for hunters and fishermen. Outdoorsmen like him. Not so much for women. And sure as hell not for Theresa Pirelli.
What was she thinking, staying at the Rockin’ R in the first place? If she didn’t want to room with family, the bed-and-breakfasts in town were made for a woman like Theresa. Elegant, graceful and delicate, the beautiful buildings with their gorgeous gardens and what
