Page 34 of Wrangling Hearts
She was mesmerizing.
“Can’t kill us if you can’t catch us,” I yelled, grinning wide. “Don’t know if you got what it takes anymore.”
Emmett turned back, looking up at me with a gleam in his eyes. The difference in how he looked now compared to how he looked yesterday morning was like a frigid winter had thawed and made way for spring. “You know you just signed your death certificate, right?”
“Sure do.” And I watched Claire prove me wrong with more joy than I’d felt in a while.
When we finally came to a stop, wind-blown and adrenaline high, I felt like a new person, and it looked like everyone else did too.
Claire got off her horse, her shorts riding up to a painful degree that sent all my blood rushing south. She stormed up to me, bare feet stomping in the mud without a care. I nearly dropped to my knees at the sight of her: cheeks flushed, eyes bright, curls a mess, and absolutely livid.
“I know this was your idea,” she snarled between heavy breaths, jamming her finger in my heaving chest. That one touch alone was like a jolt of electricity that stayed humming beneath my skin.
I shook my head. “It wasn’t.” I gestured to her brother, who was playing around with Weston and Colt. “It was Emmett’s.”
Her head reared back. “What?” she breathed. Her eyes darted between mine. “Are you serious?”
I nodded. “We were talking this morning, or I guess yesterday morning, when we were workin’ on the chicken coop. And I thought it’d be good for him to get out with the guys, liven him up some. Looks like it worked if you ask me.”
Her eyes became glassy, looking like grass slicked with morning dew. “Beau…” she whispered, voice cracking. “I don’t know how I can ever repay you for what you’ve done. Not just with him, but with the ranch.”
My eyes lowered to her mouth. I swallowed, wetting my lips. “I could think of something.”
I was expecting her to refuse. To chew me out for being so persistent. But nothing could have prepared me for what she did instead.
A shaky, shallow breath left me as she rose on her toes, leaning in slowly. She smelled like the wind, like adrenaline. Having her body this close to mine again felt like salvation, like falling with no end in sight. Her lips were soft against my skin, landing on my cheek right at the corner of my mouth. It was absolute torture, just like I knew she planned it. My hand found her waist as she lingered, and I bunched the thin fabric of her tank top in my fist when she whispered in my ear, “Thank you, Beau.”
I swayed on my feet as she pulled away, looking at me with darkened eyes and flushed skin. And like the desperate fool that I was, my mouth followed after hers for a second. I couldn’t care about anything else, not the guys watching, not the Cavendish partnership, not our family history. Nothing. I wanted her so badly it made me dizzy.
Gripping onto the truck, I cleared my throat and said, “You’re welcome.”
She backed away and turned to the guys. “Now get your drunk asses back in that truck and put my shit back,” she ordered, hopping onto her horse in one swift, sexy-as-fuck motion.
“Yes, ma’am!” Emmett laughed with a salute. Claire peeked at me over her shoulder with a little grin and rode off.
That little grin was an arrow shot straight at my heart.
11
Claire
“It’s time to consider hospice care.” The words tore into me like bullets, shredding any last piece of hope I had that Mama would get better.
I clenched my teeth, fighting the urge to scream at the doctors to do something to save her. But I knew there was nothing left for them to do. My hand landed on Emmett’s thigh, needing to feel someone, something to ground me in this nightmare so I didn’t lose it.
Emmett’s hand curled around mine, and he cleared his throat. “So what are the next steps?” His voice was hoarse, pained. Hearing him upset only fractured my heart more because I couldn’t do anything to make it better.
The hospitalist, a young Asian man who didn’t look a day older than Tess’s twenty-six, said, “Well, we’d get you in contact with a hospice care facility, and once Charlotte’s stable enough, we’d discharge her and transport her to the facility or have someone come to your home daily. They would help administer medications—anti-anxiety medications usually—to help keep her calm during this time.”
“And we’re just supposed to sit there and wait for her to die?” I snapped, my voice shaking.
I had taken every other piece of gut-wrenching news these last three years with every ounce of grace and dignity I could muster, staying as composed and strong as possible. But that version of me was long gone now, worn down to nothing. And all that was left was snarling teeth and rage, like a wolf backed into a corner.
“Claire,” Emmett whispered, trying to comfort me. But nothing could comfort me from the reality that was ahead.
I yanked my hand out of his. “No. This is bullshit, Emmett, and you know it.” I looked at the doctors again. “There has to be something you can do. A treatment you can start her on.”
The oncologist, a woman in her late forties with a polished chignon and sophisticated cocktail dress, clasped her hands and said, “I’m afraid that’s not possible, Claire. Your mother doesn’t want to be on any treatments, and we can’t do anything without her permission.”
