Page 33 of Unbroken

“Something must have drifted by, spooking them,” Eli said, taking his hat off and shaking the water off before putting it back on his head. “I didn’t see or hear anything.”

“So long as it’s not a predator or a snake, they’ll be fine,” I said, suddenly feeling awkward about what had just happened between us. As good as the kiss was, things were going to be different because of it, and we’d barely gotten our equilibrium as trail partners. “I’ll go stay with them.”

I didn’t wait for his response and rushed out into the rain like the cabin was on fire. I needed to get away from Eli. I could only hope that keeping distance between us would stop me from leaping back into his arms for another knee-buckling kiss.

I found Red and placed my hand on the chestnut’s side. The older horse didn’t appear even remotely disturbed by anything. He and Gatsby had found some wild grass peeking through the cracks in the patio wall and they were both nibbling away as if they didn’t have a care in the world. I carefully checked the ground and anywhere a sneaky snake might hide from the cold and rain, but I didn’t find anything to explain the horses’ initial fussing.

Satisfied it was a fluke, I leaned up against one of the porch posts and looked back toward the cabin. Eli had just exited the front door and made eye contact with me, giving me a little wave before taking up a position facing the other way. I resisted the urge to rejoin him and pick things up where we’d left them earlier, before Paula interrupted us.

I shook my head. Nope. That was a dangerous idea because I knew what would happen and there was absolutely no way I was going to risk falling for Eli Carter.

TWENTY-TWO

FIONA

Once the weather cleared, we continued on up to the lookout on horseback. It was even more gorgeous than usual. The rain had cleaned everything and water droplets sparkled in the sun like diamonds. Even I was in awe of the beauty around us. The riders took their pictures and oohed and aahed over the mule deer that had ventured out with her two fawns to nibble on the grass.

We’d only lost about two hours because of the storm and we made it back to the barn after four, which still gave our guests plenty of time to freshen up before their dinner plans. That was the good news. The bad news was that word of Eli and I kissing had gotten around to all the riders and for much of our return trip, the retirees were handing out relationship advice.

“Never go to sleep angry when you can have make-up sex instead.”

“Don’t hide the old photos of your exes and forget about them—they always get found at the worst possible moment.”

“When you get in an argument, the best way to get out of it is to tellyour partner, ‘you’re right.’ Anything else, and you’re risking sleeping on the couch.”

The advice got more outlandish the closer we got to the ranch, and I suspected that some of the suggestions were based on actual arguments that the couples had with each other.

We saw everyone off with a wave. Thankfully Mitch and Dustin offered to help me get the saddles off the horses and get them cleaned and brushed because Eli was in a rush to pick up Patrick. Apparently, Beatrice had her monthly book club meeting and since she’d chosen this month’s book, she couldn’t be late, so I’d shooed Eli away, relieved not to have him so close to me.

Because all I could think about was that damn kiss.

Later that night, I sat on my bed in my old room and popped open my laptop for the first time since I’d arrived, trying to ignore the pangs I felt as it booted up. It wasn’t my shiny, expensive work-issued laptop—I’d had to turn that one back in along with my work badge, work phone, and the credit card for my work expense account. They hadn’t exactly escorted me out of the building with my personal items in a cardboard box, but it hadn’t been far off from that. Definitely not my best moment and I suspected that the memory would stick with me for a long time.

This laptop had been gifted to me by my parents before I left for college and it was covered in stickers from my favorite bands and inspirational quotes. I loved the thing, but using it was a reminder of what I’d lost: my parents and my job.

I’d kept up with my email on my phone, but I took the opportunity to sift through my junk mail to make sure I hadn’t missed anything that I actually needed to see. My email account’s spam filters could be a little oversensitive. I was about to delete the latest batch of messages from hot singles in my area and questionable doctors shilling Viagraand supposed health remedies, but I stopped when I saw a familiar email address.

It was from Edge, a competing marketing and PR firm, one that my old company had always bid against. The subject line read:A conversation.

I frowned. Why in the world would they want to have a conversation with me? I’d left my agency under a black cloud of shame that everyone knew about, convinced that my mistake would follow me forever. Or at least for the next few years, until everyone moved on to the next scandal.

I opened the email, half expecting it to end up being spam after all and was shocked at what I read.

“Hold on. They want tohireme?” I said out loud.

According to the message, the talent director at the agency had been watching me rise through the ranks at my old company and liked my spunk and can-do attitude. She acknowledged my misstep with the Lemon-Lime account but said that the spirit that moved me to reach out to the influencer was commendable and exactly the kind of initiative that their agency appreciated, bringing up several other campaigns where I had taken similar gambles only for them to pay off handsomely in the end. The message also said that they believed in the “no press is bad press” school of thought, and then pointed out that Lemon-Lime Soda was reaping the benefits of all the reporting on the scandal. Because of me, they wereeverywhere, and there was a noticeable uptick in sales that probably wouldn’t have happened without my blunder.

They were flat-out offering me a position comparable to the one I’d left! All they wanted was a quick conference call to go over salary and my scope of responsibilities.

I leaned back against my headboard in shock. Sure, I wanted to get back to Denver and to my marketing career eventually, but I didn’t think an opportunity would fall into my lap so quickly! It was almost too good to be true, but I knew the woman who had reached out to me by reputation and she wouldn’t have made an offer unless she was serious. The agency was known for running fast and loose. The offer was unorthodox but totally in line with their corporate culture. Grab what you want and don’t ask questions.

Given my own MO, it was sort of a perfect fit.

I quickly typed up a response, apologizing for the delay in getting back to her and asking for time to work out my family affairs before talking about next steps, explaining that we were in the middle of high season, and I didn’t want to leave my family and the ranch in a bind. It was the truth, but I also knew that loyalty to an employer, family or not, always looked good.

I envisioned going back to the city and was surprised that my stomach twisted at the thought. Three years ago, after losing my parents, Denver had been my refuge. It had been the place where I could throw myself into a new life—new surroundings, new people, new commitments—and ignore the void that was left on the ranch and in my heart. I liked my nonstop career and busy social calendar. There was no time for anything but forward motion. No time to dwell on what I’d lost.

But Lost Valley Ranch was my home, and that would never change. Being back made me realize how much I’d missed spending time with Josh and Shannon. The years had changed us all, sure, but our bond was still as tight as ever. And then there was the ranch itself, with its endless sky and bookend mountain ranges, a place that I loved down to my marrow.

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