Horses, Hayrides, And Husbands (Country Brides & Cowboy Boots) Read online

  Her mind raced back to Calico Pete’s with Travis. The live music, the scrape of their boots on the worn hardwood floors, the feeling of his fingers holding hers as he’d spun her around and around until they were both dizzy, laughing … it had only been three weeks, but it felt like a lifetime ago. She hadn’t seen him since their fight, and if he’d tried to contact her, the unknown number app on her phone had done its job and blocked him.

  The ache in her chest built, heavy and depressing.

  “So, lobster tails, then?” Holland’s voice pulled Misty back to the present, and she nodded. “Can you order for me? I’m going to the restroom.”

  Gregory stood quickly to pull her chair out. “It’s just around the corner,” he pointed. “Want me to come with you?”

  “To the bathroom?”

  Even in the dim light, she could see him wince. “Well, to wait outside,” he said quickly.

  “I’m a big girl; I’ll be right back,” she assured him.

  Tears filled her eyes and the room began to swim as she wove her way between tables and around chairs. By the time she reached the restrooms, she could barely see. Quickly she burst through the door, grabbed a folded linen towel from a stack on an ornate table, and pressed it to her eyes. She couldn’t cry, wouldn’t cry. Travis was a jerk. There’d been something between them, a kernel of something that could have been great, and he’d thrown it away for the dumbest of reasons—his stupid pride and his stupid bigotry toward rich people.

  “Are you okay, miss?”

  She whirled around at the soft voice to find an elderly woman sitting in a chair next to the table with the towels. Misty hadn’t even seen her. What kind of a place still had a bathroom attendant? It was like she’d gone back in time.

  “Is everything all right?” the woman asked again.

  “Uh, yeah … I’m fine.” Misty glanced down at the crumpled towel in her hands, now smeared with mascara. Would she have to pay for it? “Sorry. I didn’t realize anyone was in here.”

  “It’s okay,” the woman said with a kind smile. She waved her hand toward the table, which held tiny bottles of hairspray, perfume, and mouthwash in addition to the towels. “Can I get you anything?”

  “No thank you. I’ll just … I just need a few minutes.” Misty looked around for a place to set the dirty towel.

  The woman extended her hand with a smile. “Take your time, dear.”

  Misty handed her the towel and darted around the corner and into a stall, locking the door behind her. Her tears had dried, shocked away by the appearance of the bathroom attendant, but the ache in her heart flared just as painfully as ever.

  She’d thought she knew heartbreak when Chet turned his back on her and on their baby. But now that felt like ancient history. And even though they’d grown up together, she’d barely known him. No matter what else he’d said, she could see now that Chet had only ever wanted one thing from her.

  She’d only known Travis for a few weeks, but what she’d felt in those weeks went beyond time and distance and anything she’d ever had with Chet. The sting of betrayal from Chet was merely a flesh wound she could shrug off with the knowledge he was a dirtbag and what they’d shared was lust, not love. It was nothing compared to what she felt when she thought of Travis—a deep, tearing ache in her heart, followed by a choking sense of panic. What was she supposed to do now? How could she live the rest of her life knowing the feelings she’d had for him existed, but also knowing he was gone?

  “Misty?” Holland’s voice drifted through the bathroom. “Are you okay?”

  “She went in there,” Misty heard the bathroom attendant say.

  Holland’s black Louboutins appeared at the door of the stall and she knocked. “Hey. Is everything all right?”

  Misty swallowed down the lump in her throat. “Yeah, it’s fine. I just need a minute.”

  There was a pause. “Do you want to talk about it?” Holland asked quietly.

  Misty unlocked the door and faced her sister-in-law. “Not really.”

  “Not Chet, is it?”

  “No way. I don’t have any contact with that loser.”

  “And it can’t be Gregory, you barely know him,” Holland guessed. “Then who?”

  Fresh tears brimmed in Misty’s eyes. “No one. Just a guy I met. We went out a couple of times, now it’s over.”

  “But you like him … more than like him, I’d guess.”

  “Yeah, and he turned out to be a jerk like all the rest,” Misty said fiercely.

  Holland’s big eyes were full of sympathy. “What happened?”

  Tears threatened again. Ty and Holland had had a whirlwind romance, but nothing like this. Would her sister-in-law think she was crazy for falling apart over a man she barely knew? How could she ever explain the feeling of rightness that had engulfed her as she’d watched him carry her baby through the golf course, patiently feed him Cheerios, or tenderly buckle him into his car seat? And was it her own heart she mourned, or Wyatt’s—knowing he’d lost someone who would most likely have been an excellent father?

  Misty clenched her jaw. “We’d probably better get back out there.”

  Holland waited while Misty washed her hands and patted her cheeks dry; then Holland tipped the bathroom attendant and they left the room together.

  “Gregory’s been telling me about the ski resort,” Ty announced when they were back at their table.

  “I looked it up online,” Holland said. “Skiing looks amazing; I can’t wait to learn.”

  “What? You don’t know how to ski?” Gregory asked, eyes wide with surprise.

  “Southern California girl,” Holland replied.

  “What about you?” Gregory turned his gaze to Misty.

  “I’ve been once or twice,” she replied.

  “What?” He looked incredulous. “You live twenty minutes from Sun Valley and don’t ski?”

  It was on the tip of Misty’s tongue to reply that skiing was expensive, and even though Ty had money now, it wasn’t always the case. But she held herself back and managed a smile instead. “I guess I never made it a priority.”

  “Oh, you definitely have to go more often; you’ll love it. I’ll get you all some season passes and we can all go together. I try to get out there every day during peak season. With priority passes, I can bypass the crowds so it doesn’t take so much time.”

  Another memory rose in Misty’s mind. When they were leaving Calico Pete’s, Travis had opened the door for her, then been stuck as several large groups came through at once. Instead of leaving the door to swung shut in someone’s face, he’d held it patiently, letting them all go ahead, even though he’d been there first. She doubted he would ever use his connections to cut in line at a ski resort.

  Yeah, because he would never be in a position to have connections, and even if he were, Mr. High and Mighty’s ideals would think it beneath him.

  She wanted to be scornful, but the thought just made her sad.

  * * *

  “Okay, talk,” Holland said as soon as they were back in Ty’s car. Gregory had offered to drive Misty home after dinner, but she’d gratefully pointed out she could just as easily ride with Ty and Holland and save him the trip. Logic and gas savings in the face of romance … exactly what someone looked for in a date, right?

  “What?” She crossed her arms and scrunched down on the back seat of Ty’s black Mustang. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  “For it being ‘nothing,’ you were pretty upset in the bathroom,” Holland said stubbornly.

  Ty shot Misty a glance in the rearview mirror, sympathy in his brown eyes. “She’s going to get it out of you eventually,” he said. “Can we help?”

  Misty took a shaky breath, and the whole story came tumbling out—the Clydesdales at the party, dancing at Calico Pete’s, and Frisbee golf. She skipped over most of the kissing, but Ty and Holland could guess what she wasn’t saying, and finished up with the fight in the foundation headquarters.

  “Man,
I tipped that guy fifty bucks,” Ty said, shaking his head. “And he looked at me like I was trying to hand him a live tarantula.”

  “He’s got issues,” Misty said, sliding a little further into the seat. As painful as talking about it had been, she had to admit that she felt a little better. Like she was seeing things with a new perspective. They’d been on two dates, and she’d practically been planning the wedding, acting just like she had with Chet—impulsive and irrational. Maybe it was good it had all blown up when it did.

  Chapter 9

  Misty knocked on the dark stained oak door and waited for the hollered invitation.

  “Come in!”

  She pushed the door open and stepped into Ty’s office. Before the renovations, it was the biggest bedroom in the house, but that wasn’t saying much; space was still tight and Ty’s oak desk—straight from the nearest Costco—took up most of the room. The cardboard banker boxes he used as a filing cabinet were the bane of Holland’s existence.

  Like his office, Ty was the opposite of flashy. He was handsome in a way that made Holland light up whenever he entered the room, and he might be the luckiest billionaire in the history of Idaho, but deep down he was still the same guy who’d grown up shearing sheep on the farm. In the two years since he’d won the lottery, he’d turned the Epperson Foundation from a dream into a reality with real goals and real results. They were working to return control of local lands from federal to state agencies, and while the reams of government red tape were overwhelming, they were slowly making progress.

  Misty stood still for a minute, realizing how much he’d done and how proud she was of him.

  “So what’s up, Misty?” Ty nodded toward the chair on the other side of his desk.

  “I’m wondering about the Sun Valley Clydesdales,” she said, taking a seat.

  Ty frowned. “Are you asking on behalf of the Clydesdales or for their driver?”

  “Forget about Travis; I already have,” Misty said, hoping her tone sounded convincing. In truth, she still thought about Travis way too much. Still ached for his kisses way too much.

  “Well, as far as the horses go, I didn’t expect them to shut down the whole pasture,” Ty said, bringing her thoughts back to the conversation. “I’ve asked the attorneys to look into it and they think we can get the scope of the study reduced so the process will go faster.”

  “But this is the government,” Misty pointed out. “It could still be years, and in the meantime, what about the horses?”

  Ty twirled his pen in his long fingers. “I’ll talk to the lawyers again. Maybe there’s something more they can do to speed it up.”

  She took small encouragement from the thought.

  “Anything else?” Ty asked.

  “Yes.” She took a deep breath. “What would you think about expanding the mission of the foundation?”

  “Such as?”

  “I haven’t worked out any details, but what if we took a more direct role in helping people so we weren’t always waiting for lawyers or the government to figure things out?”

  Ty looked thoughtful as he twirled his pen in his long fingers. “Like giving out grants?”

  “And scholarships,” Misty said. The more she thought about it, the more the idea excited her.

  “What kind of qualifications would you ask for?” Ty asked.

  Misty spread her hands. “I don’t know. Like I said, I haven’t worked out any details.”

  He gave her a grin. “Well, get started and let me know what you come up with.”

  “Really? Sweet!” That was easier than she’d expected. “I’ll look into similar programs and get back to you.”

  She left his office with a new spring in her step, feeling better than she had in days.

  * * *

  Misty was surprised on the morning of July fourth when Gregory arrived in the Lambo. “I thought we were going to the parade,” she said, eying the pumpkin-colored sports car parked in her driveway. “There’s no back seat for Wyatt in your car.”

  Realization flashed through Gregory’s eyes, followed quickly by panic, and Misty understood. He hadn’t thought Wyatt would come with them.

  “He’s my kid,” she said, stressing the words. “And I’ve been looking forward to showing him the parade all week.” They both glanced to where Wyatt sat playing on the grass, decked out in denim shorts and a T-shirt printed with the American flag.

  “Maybe your parents can bring him? Or Ty and Holland?” Gregory suggested.

  “Why don’t we just take my car?”

  Gregory threw a quick look toward her red Honda in the carport. “My car is good advertising for the ski resort,” he said, a small note of apology in his voice.

  Yeah right. There were no Firebird stickers or logos on the Lambo. He wanted to drive his hot car and be seen driving his hot car.

  “I’ll call my mom,” she grumbled, spinning from the doorway to go back inside.

  An hour later, they found a spot along the parade route, and Gregory backed in beside her parents’ pickup truck. The bed of the truck was already filled with camp chairs, an air mattress, and coolers, and Misty’s dad was busy hanging a huge American flag from the back of the cab.

  “You gonna sit with us?” Ashley asked as Misty held out her arms for Wyatt.

  This was how they usually watched the parade. Everyone piled into the bed of the truck, sipping on sodas, cheering, and waving at the parade participants and using paper bags to hold the candy and trinkets the people on the floats threw to the crowd. Misty didn’t even like the cheap candy; it was the tradition of it more than enjoying the actual candy.

  “Um …” She glanced over her shoulder to see Gregory spreading a blanket in front of the Lambo. “I’ll sit with Gregory for a while.”

  Ashley’s face fell in disappointment. “Okay. But want me to keep Wyatt?”

  “No. He can sit with us.” Misty balanced her son on her hip and moved toward Gregory.

  Ty and Holland arrived a few minutes later, pulling Ty’s pickup into position next to their dad’s. They were outfitted almost the same way, and Misty felt a little silly crouching on a blanket in the weeds and gravel while the rest of her family lounged in the trucks.

  “There’s room to sit with them,” she pointed out more than once.

  But Gregory shook his head every time. “This is okay, isn’t it? I kind of want to just be with you.”

  “Hey, you two, want an air mattress?” Misty’s father called. He held up a twin-sized mattress, already inflated.

  “Yes, please!” Misty said quickly before Gregory could overrule her.

  Her dad tossed them the mattress, and they got it situated in front of the Lambo’s front bumper and covered with the blanket. Wyatt gave the setup a few experimental bounces and tipped too far. With a small cry, he reached out to grasp the bumper of the Lamborghini to steady himself.

  “Oh, uh … can he not do that?” Gregory asked, giving Misty a sheepish look. “Sorry, I just don’t want it scratched.”

  “Sure.” Misty bit back her exasperation as she pulled Wyatt away from the car and onto her lap. Gregory had never been around kids before; he’d get used to it.

  The parade started, and she made an effort to get into it, for Wyatt’s sake, if nothing else. She pointed out the horses, the dancers, and bright flags, covered his ears when the fire truck came by blasting its horn, and fed him pieces of saltwater taffy.

  “Hor-see!” Wyatt squealed, pointing.

  Misty looked up from unwrapping a taffy, and her heart clenched at the sight of the brown-and-white Clydesdales hitched to the shiny black wagon with the gold logo. The bed of the wagon was full of people she didn’t know, waving and throwing plastic beads, but her eyes shot immediately to the driver.

  Travis held the reins, but he wasn’t watching the team. His head turned to watch her as the wagon rolled past. His expression was unreadable, but she knew how it looked, what he must be thinking seeing her sitting with Gregory in front of the fanc
y car. Her cheeks burned, and she dropped her gaze back to the candy, only to find she’d squeezed it into a sticky lump.

  “You okay?” Gregory leaned toward her.

  Misty nodded. “Yup, fine. I’m going to get some wet wipes to clean this up. Can you take him?” She held Wyatt out to Gregory, who took him gingerly and held him with arms outstretched, as if Wyatt were a baby-sized personification of the Ebola virus. Misty clenched her teeth as she stood up and brushed off the back of her jeans, trying to drive away the memory of how Travis had handled him so easily.

  She turned toward her parents’ truck to fetch the diaper bag and locked eyes with Travis, who had craned his head as far as he could to keep her in his sight. With a quick jerk, he turned around to face forward, his back stiffening against the seat of the wagon.

  * * *

  The rest of the parade route went by in a blur, and Travis kept his attention focused on the hindquarters of the Clydesdales. He’d been hoping to see Misty at the parade, but not like that. Not cuddled up with her new boyfriend in front of a car that cost more than he’d make in five years. She was obviously moving onward and upward, and no matter what she said, his first impression had been right.

  He shook his head in disgust—partly at her, but mostly at himself for daring to think this one would be different.

  Chapter 10

  Misty clutched the door handle as Gregory steered the Lambo around the tight corners of Sawtooth Canyon. They were going to the Firebird Lodge, where he had promised a special surprise.

  If they made it alive. The car hugged the road and handled the corners with ease, but the sudden drop-off out Misty’s window made her nervous all the same. There had been plenty of accidents on this road, and rumors persisted that some of the cars still sat at the bottom of the deep ravine, minus any passengers, of course. It had been too expensive to tow them out, so they sat slowly rusting in mute testimony to the dangers of this road.

  “Are you enjoying your summer?” Gregory asked, breaking what had been a rather long silence.