Page 18 of The Cowboy's Downfall
The street was quiet. The neighbors on either side had turned their outside lights off, although warmth glowed from the main windows. Blue light dancing in the window of the house across the street meant elderly Mrs. Tedford was watching the ten o’clock news.
The wife—ex or not—who could make Nix run to the phone when she called was the thing about the other night that bothered her the most. If not for that, Shauna might be more inclined to lead with the apology she owed him. She’d been the instigator, and she burned with mortification whenever she thought about her behavior.
Instead, she propped her knees against the steering wheel, and while the phone rang, rehearsed what she longed to say. “How’s your wife? I hope she’s not too terribly upset about you kissing me.” Or “Phew! Good thing Handy walked in when he did and not a few minutes later. Some things can’t be unseen.”
Nix answered on the fifth ring. He sounded grumpy, as if she’d woken him up, which was impossible. No grown man went to bed at this hour.
“About the other night… We should discuss it and clear the air,” she said, getting straight to the point. “Address what happened between us head-on. If Taryn is going to participate in your clinic, then we need to put it behind us.”
“Agreed,” Nix said. His voice dropped to a fast whisper that she could barely make out. “Look, I can’t talk right now. There’s a bunkhouse full of men trying to get some sleep. For future reference, the alarm clock here goes off at four. Meet me Friday night at the little Methodist church. The one you drive by on the way to the ranch. We can park behind it and talk in private.”
“Does eight o’clock work?”
She hadn’t planned to meet him face-to-face—a phone conversation should have been enough—but since he didn’t have a cell phone so they could speak in private, then that option was out. Who didn’t own a cell phone these days?
“Get off the damn phone,” a sleepy voice complained in the background. “Get yourself a damn cell phone like the rest of the damn world if you want to talk the whole damn night.”
“Eight is fine.”
He disconnected abruptly, without saying goodbye.
*
Friday night arrivedand Shauna hadn’t come up with an excuse to get out of the house.
A large central island divided her kitchen and living room into two separate spaces. She stacked supper dishes in the dishwasher on one side of the island while Taryn lounged on the sofa in front of the television.
Taryn’s first week of school had gone better than she’d expected. No one called her to complain. No one threatened expulsion. And as far as she knew, Taryn came straight home after school because books, sweaters, and shoes littered the entry and music blared from her bedroom every evening when Shauna arrived after work.
Taryn wasn’t the best roommate. She didn’t cook, and the one time she’d run the washing machine, she’d ruined two cashmere sweaters—one of her own, so it hadn’t been deliberate—and the thin cotton blouse Shauna had worn to the ranch.
“Huh. I thought hot water would get rid of this stain. How did you get grease on it, anyway?” Taryn said, pulling the sad, abused garment out of the washer and holding it up.
“I must’ve leaned on something.” Shauna’s face had started to burn, even though technically, she was telling the truth. Except it had been someone, not something. And if challenged her explanation would never hold up in court.
Fortunately—depending on how one looked at it—Taryn had a more vested interest in deflecting blame than establishing truth. “It was already ruined. You can use it for cleaning,” she’d said, before tossing it in the dryer with a load of sweatshirts and jeans.
“What are your plans for the evening?” Shauna asked now, striving for casual, because telling fibs wasn’t one of her skills.
“I’m gaming online with friends,” Taryn said, which gave Shauna pause. She hadn’t known her girly sister was a gamer. How had she missed that piece of intel? Should she be worried? Online predators were rampant.
Common sense intervened before she could go too far down that dark path. She worried too much. If Taryn was going to get herself in trouble online, it would have happened long before now and no one could have stopped her.
She stowed the last plate and closed the dishwasher door. “Don’t forget we have to be at the ranch tomorrow morning for nine o’clock.”
That got her sister’s attention. She looked up from her phone. “What do you mean, ‘we’? I have my own car.”
They stared at each other—Taryn belligerent, Shauna defensive.
“I mean,” Shauna said carefully, sensing a boundary that was about to be tested, “that I want to make sure everything is safe. I’m legally responsible for you. As your sister, if this is something you’re really interested in, then I want to show my support.”
“You mean you want to see Nix.”
The way Taryn said it, with so much hostility, resentment, and dislike, left Shauna speechless. Why was it only now occurring to her that her little sister might not have been messing with him? That she might genuinely be interested in him?
Which meant Shauna should proceed with extreme caution, and at her own peril, because Taryn was right, she did want to see him. Guilt tap-danced with her conscience as the first wave of shock began to wear off.
“Nix is a good-looking man,” she said carefully, which was true. “There’s no harm in looking.” Also, true. “But we don’t have much in common.” Very, very true.
