Wild About the Wrangler (26 page)

“What are you saying?”

“I think you know. This week will be busy. Georgie needs your help with all the details that go into a wedding, and Charmaine will be coming into town in two days. I'll be on tap for whatever Vince wants me to do. We'll both have lots to do.”

“So this is it?”

The ache in his chest grew sharper. “After what we've shared, are we going to be satisfied with a few stolen moments here and there? I think that might be worse than if we just . . .” But he couldn't make himself say it.

“Ended it now?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, Mac.”

He swallowed. “We always had a shelf life. It just turned out to be a little shorter than we thought.”

“But we'll be seeing each other at Sadie's, and I'll be the maid of honor and you'll be the best man at the wedding. I won't be able to pretend I don't care about you whenever we're together.”

“I'm not asking you to. I couldn't do that, either. We'll see each other around town this week and then we'll dance at Georgie and Vince's wedding. After that . . . we'll kiss each other good-bye. It's the way it needs to be.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Don't ask me that.”

“I am asking. Is that what you want?”

He gazed at her. If he said no, then they'd spend the week desperately trying to find time to be together. They might even come to resent Vince and Georgie for making that so difficult. A frantic attempt to re-create what they'd shared this weekend could make their eventual separation tougher for both of them. “Yes,” he said. “That's what I want.”

“Okay, then.” Her jaw firmed. “I'm on board with that program.” Pointing Jasper straight ahead, she rode the rest of the way without speaking, but the silence was no longer comfortable.

Unsaddling and grooming the horses at the stable wasn't a lot of fun, either. He offered to take over the chore, but she refused. He'd seen that stubborn light in her eyes before and knew better than to argue.

When they finished, she picked up her messenger bag and a small knapsack that held the few things she'd brought on the camping trip. He'd been impressed with how little she'd chosen to take along. She might not be an experienced camper, but she had the concept of minimal possessions down.

Now that the moment of separation was at hand, he wasn't sure how to handle it. They stood in the stable yard in view of Ed's front porch and the main road. Not a particularly intimate or romantic place to end an affair.

First he thought of practical considerations. “We haven't set up any more rides between now and Saturday. Will you be okay with the ride into the canyon for the ceremony?”

She looked like a person facing a firing squad. “I'll be fine.”

“Look, don't be noble just because of what I said back in the canyon. If you need a couple more lessons, we can work that out.”

“Nope. I'm good.”

“Yes, you are,” he said softly. “You've made incredible progress in a short time. I'm not the least bit worried about Saturday.”

She met his gaze. “I had a good teacher.”

“I had a talented pupil.”

“Thank you.”

She looked so earnest standing there in that hat. He wanted to kiss her more than he wanted to breathe. But that wouldn't help anything. “See you around.”

“Yeah.” She gave him a soft smile. “See you around.”

He watched her walk out of the stable yard and wondered if he'd survive losing her, after all.

F
ortunately for Anastasia, the next five days turned into a mind-numbing blur of activity. Between helping with wedding-related projects and organizing her trip to L.A. on Sunday, she had very little downtime. She caught glimpses of Mac during the week and they only exchanged brief comments.

That was a good thing, because every damn time she felt as if she'd been stabbed with a dull knife. When her sister Charmaine arrived on Wednesday from Dallas, Anastasia gave her a condensed version of her history with Mac and made Charmaine promise not to discuss it again, especially in front of their mother. Evelyn was overjoyed about the opportunity in L.A. and had mentioned several times that Anastasia had dodged a bullet by getting away from that cowboy Mac Foster.

Anastasia didn't feel as if she'd dodged anything. Love had hit her hard. The promise of a new and exciting job was great, but so far it hadn't lessened the pain of giving up Mac. She had to take it on faith that eventually she'd know for sure that she'd made the right decision.

Georgie and Vince's wedding day dawned clear and crisp. Amazingly, Anastasia had been getting up early every morning that week. Without a riding lesson, she'd expected to go right back to her night-owl pattern. Instead she kept waking up at sunrise as if her body rhythm yearned to keep in sync with Mac's.

Georgie had slept in her old bedroom the previous night as a nod to the tradition that the groom shouldn't see the bride until the ceremony. The men were heading out ahead of the ladies, with the exception of Ed, who had volunteered to lead the contingent of women.

The old Victorian wasn't even slightly soundproof, so Anastasia could tell that Georgie was up and Charmaine was not. She decided to walk across the hall and see how Georgie was doing.

Georgie answered her knock looking uncharacteristically flustered. Her honey blond hair was tangled and her bed looked as if she'd been wrestling the sheets all night. She stared at Anastasia. “You're up! I can't believe you're up.”

“It seems to be my new thing, greeting the dawn. How are you?”

“Can you believe it?” She moved away from the door to let Anastasia come in. “I'm nervous. I love Vince so much, and I've been living with him since June so I know all his bad habits and he knows mine. We're perfect for each other. Why should I be nervous?”

“Because today you'll give your word, so there's no going back, at least not for a person like you, who takes these things very seriously.”

Georgie gazed at her and nodded. “That's it. This is serious.”

“And there's the baby to consider.”

“You know?” Her eyes widened.

“Georgie, I'm sure everyone knows. You quit drinking wine! You love a glass of red wine with dinner. And then the wedding date is, like, immediately. What else would people think?”

Her sister's grin was sheepish. “I suppose that's true. But nobody's mentioned it.”

“They won't. Bickford folks might be nosy but they won't say anything until you decide to make the announcement.”

“What announcement?” Charmaine appeared in the doorway rubbing her eyes. Without makeup she looked much younger than twenty-seven. Her salon-lightened hair was the platinum color of a child's and she kept herself skinny so she'd fit into designer clothes.

Georgie gazed at her. “If I tell you, you have to promise not to screech. I don't want Evelyn to know.”

“She wears earplugs so she won't hear me, but I promise not to screech if you tell me you're pregnant.”

“What? Does everyone in the world know?”

“You are?” Charmaine raced over and gave her a hug. “I was just being a smart-ass! That's awesome! Boy or girl?”

“We've decided not to ask.”

Charmaine sighed. “Which means I have to go with yellow baby outfits. Except I predict it'll be a girl. Girls run in the family. I hope it's a girl. Maybe she'll play dolls with me and have tea parties since neither of you losers ever would.”

“Speaking of parties,” Anastasia said, “it's time to get this one started, especially with only one shower up here.”

“I'm first!” Then Charmaine slapped her forehead. “Except I can't be first. The bride should be first.”

Georgie laughed. “Go ahead, Charmaine. You can be first.”

“Nope, nope, nope. You can be first, but don't dawdle, okay?”

“I never dawdle.”

“You're right. Anastasia's the one who can get in there and start sketching in her mind and forget where she is.”

“I do not!”

Both Georgie and Charmaine turned to her, eyebrows raised.

“Well, maybe sometimes.”

Charmaine nodded. “Often. In any case, I'll be second. What about your dress, Georgie? Does it need ironing?”

“It might.”

“I know mine does, and I'll bet Anastasia's does, too. I'll set up the ironing board in my room. Anastasia, go fetch your dress. Chop, chop, everybody! We have a wedding today!”

Smiling, Anastasia went to get her dress out of the closet. Later on she'd have to deal with seeing Mac, which might be difficult. But hanging out with her sisters while they all got ready—that was going to be big fun.

Two hours later as all three of them walked the short distance to Ed's stable, Anastasia longed for her sketch pad. Their outfits were practical yet gorgeously retro. Georgie was in white, while Charmaine and Anastasia had matching outfits in aspen yellow, but the design was virtually the same.

Ankle-length split skirts showed off lace-up riding boots. The bodices of the dresses were flatteringly snug but high-necked, and each sister wore a jaunty hat over her upswept hairdo. Georgie had a veil, which she'd pull forward for the ceremony but left up for the ride into the canyon.

The other women riding with them had assembled in the stable yard and applauded as they approached. Of course Ida was going, and so was the mayor's wife, Inez, along with Ike's wife, Raina. Steve and Myra Jenson had chosen to stay behind and make sure the reception was under control. Sue Bryson would ride out with them, though. She was excited about Georgie's wedding but she also looked forward to watching her husband, Frank, conduct the ceremony.

Ed had spent the week contacting nearby ranches for loaners so he'd have enough mounts for everyone attending the wedding. Technically, either Sue or Frank should have ridden Jasper because they owned him, but they'd graciously allowed Anastasia to do that while they both took borrowed horses. Georgie was on Prince, and Charmaine had been given Skeeter, the horse she'd ridden the first time she'd been out on the trail.

The big bay wasn't the prettiest horse in the group, though. Anastasia wondered if Charmaine, who usually paid great attention to her appearance, would object, especially because each of her sisters had a handsome mount. She didn't say a word, and Anastasia realized how much her previously self-centered sister had evolved.

The ride into the canyon was merry. Some of the women hadn't been on a horse in a while, and no doubt they'd have aches and pains tomorrow, but they all seemed to be having the time of their lives being part of this adventure. They repeatedly thanked Georgie for coming up with such a creative venue, and she gave all the credit to Vince.

For Anastasia, the canyon would always hold memories of Mac. Without his help she wouldn't be part of this wedding procession. Come to think of it, without Mac there wouldn't be a wedding in the box canyon. Georgie would have had the ceremony in Sadie's because of Anastasia's fear.

But he was largely an unsung hero because no one knew that she'd been terrified of horses until Mac had taught her not to be. She and Georgie were the only ones who realized what a miracle he'd accomplished in less than a week. But if she announced it during the reception, an idea that had crossed her mind, he would hate that.

The steady stream of conversation made the ride seem short and Anastasia was surprised when they reached the narrow trail leading up to the box canyon. Half the people in the group had never seen it, although they'd heard descriptions. Obviously they were eagerly anticipating their first glimpse.

“I'm checking off two items on my bucket list today,” Ida announced. “I'll see this canyon everyone's talked about, and I'll watch Georgie and Vince get hitched. It's a twofer.”

“Same here,” Inez said. “Since I'm old enough to be Georgie's grandmother, I've known her since she was a bitty thing. And here I am going to her wedding in a canyon I didn't know existed until six months ago.”

“That's right,” Sue added. “I know we're all a little bummed about the documentary being postponed, but think of how far we've come, thanks to Vince and his friends. It's about time we celebrated our progress, and this is the perfect occasion.”

“And this is the perfect place.” Ed had been leading the procession with Anastasia and Georgie bringing up the rear. “Ladies, have you ever seen anything prettier than this?” He moved aside so the women could emerge from the narrow trail into the clearing.

At the chorus of exclamations, Anastasia turned back to Georgie. “I think they like it.”

“Vince has good taste.”

Anastasia smiled at her sister. “I know he does. He chose you.”

“Thanks.” Georgie's cheeks turned pink. “Remind me to do something nice for Mac. He was a huge part of making this possible.”

“You know what? I have the perfect thing. I promised him a sketch, and if you'd mat and frame it for me, then—”

“Consider it done.”

That was the last private conversation she had with Georgie. They emerged into the open meadow to discover it had been transformed. The guys had outdone themselves.

They'd created an arched trellis large enough not to be dwarfed by participants on horseback. They'd positioned it so that it framed the waterfall beyond. If a wedding venue had ever been more beautiful than this, Anastasia couldn't imagine how.

Someone, no doubt Travis, had hauled in a compact sound system. The moment the women appeared, harp music filled the canyon. Harp music. Anastasia would never have thought of it, but the sound was perfect, as if angels hovered overhead blessing this ceremony.

The guests arranged themselves in a row in front of the trellis with a pathway in the middle. As the wedding march began, Charmaine straightened in the saddle and rode down the path to take her place to the left of the arch. Anastasia followed and spared a glance for the tall man on Cinder to the right of the groom on Storm Cloud.

Mac looked gorgeous in his Western-style tux, as she'd known he would. He smiled at her, and her heart stumbled. What was she doing, leaving such a man?

Throughout the ceremony, which made her cry, she thought of Mac and all that he'd done. If she could be two people, one part of her would stay with Mac and the other half would work for Kathryn Abernathy in L.A. But she was only one person, and her choice was clear.

After the ceremony she rode out with Mac. “You look great,” he murmured, “as if you'd been born riding a horse.”

“You're exaggerating, but thank you.” The sound of his voice made her heart pound.

“I'm not. You've claimed your birthright. I hope you keep riding. It might not be easy, living in California, but—”

“I'll keep riding. I want to do it for myself, but I also want to keep it up as a tribute to you.”

“Nah, I don't need a tribute.”

“You do, Mac. You really do. I—”

Travis took that moment to organize the troops and get everyone lined up to head back. Although technically Anastasia should have been either ahead of or behind Mac, the order got scrambled. She didn't come face-to-face with him again until they'd returned to town and were gathered at Sadie's.

The reception was informal enough that they could have avoided dancing with each other, but suddenly he was there, pulling her out onto the floor.
One dance, and then we'll kiss good-bye.
And oh, what a dance it was.

They'd been great partners before they'd become lovers, but now the communication between them was complete, as if they were connected by an invisible wire that telegraphed their movements. She'd never felt so alive as they spun and circled. They cleared the floor as clapping and whistling filled her ears.

But the music ended, and Mac drew her over to a corner of the room, away from the crowd. They were both breathing hard and he paused before trying to speak. He cupped her face in both hands. “Knowing you has been one of the highlights of my life.”

“Don't say it like that. You make it sound as if we'll never see each other again. We will. I'll be back for visits.”

He smiled. “But essentially you'll be gone, as you should be. I want that for you. I want all your dreams to come true.” Then he kissed her softly, almost reverently.

When she tried to pull him into a more intimate embrace, he stepped away and shook his head. “I'll never forget you, Anastasia Bickford.”

Then the party crowd closed in and they were separated. He never asked her to dance again that night. It was over.

•   •   •

Winters were milder in Southern California than they were in the Texas Panhandle. Anastasia had known that intellectually, but with Thanksgiving only a week away, she missed the threat of snow. Walking to work from the bus stop, she passed a group of tourists. They were all wearing shorts and T-shirts in the middle of November. Weird.

But she'd eventually get used to the climate and she loved her job. Working in the film industry had inspired her in ways she'd never have imagined. Everyone was friendly and she often went out for drinks or a meal with her new buddies.

But there were also evenings when she took the bus home to her little apartment and found herself dragging out her portfolio and looking through her old sketches. Inevitably she ended up with pictures of Mac lined up along the cushions of her couch.