Home on the Ranch: Tennessee Bull Rider Page 11

  “Not someone.” She lifted her chin. “You.”

  “Me?” He grinned and nudged the curl away from her mouth with his knuckle. Even angry, she was gorgeous. “Again?”

  She caught his hand in hers. “Again,” she said softly. “Come on.”

  Amber spun on her heel and tugged his hand, pulling him behind her.

  They left the festival and walked across the field to his truck. When they reached it, she released him and lifted her upturned palm. “I’ll drive. Can I have your keys?”

  His grin widened. “You putting a please on that, babe?”

  Some of the fight left her eyes, making his smile fade. “Please, Nate.”

  The resigned tone of her voice lodged a heavy weight in his gut. He handed them over and slid into the passenger seat, remaining silent as she drove.

  It didn’t take long to figure out where she was headed. Asphalt gave way to steep dirt roads he’d driven a thousand times as a teen on a back route to Elk Valley Ranch. Treetops, already covered with autumn color, glowed with orange and rose hues as the sun sank behind them. The higher the truck climbed the mountain, the stronger the fall breeze picked up, the heavier the branches swayed and the faster the leaves fluttered to the ground.

  His skin chilled. “Turn around, Amber.”

  She didn’t speak. Just stepped heavier on the pedal and stared ahead as the engine growled.

  “I mean it.” He braced a hand on the dash. “Turn around. Now.”

  “No.”

  “Amber—”

  “I should’ve done things differently the night we spent here,” she said quietly. Slowing the truck, she took her time navigating around the final curve before reaching a clearing. “I should’ve given you more than I took from you.”

  “When this truck stops,” he bit out, “I’m turning it around and we’re going back.”

  “If you go back, you go back alone.” She hit the brakes, threw the gear into Park and cut the engine. “And you go without Savannah, Dylan or Mason.”

  A strange queasiness seeped into his veins, turning his stomach. “What are you talking about?”

  Amber swiveled in her seat. “I’m talking about this.” She flicked a button on his shirt. “About this false image you’re portraying. What do you think? You think if you wear the right clothes and say the right things, people will think better of you? That they’ll only ever say good things about you?” She shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way, Nate. Not in Elk Valley. And I’d be willing to bet it doesn’t work that way anywhere else, either.”

  He scoffed. “You know I don’t care about that nonsense—”

  “No?” She shrugged. “It sure doesn’t look that way to me. Not with you sporting some preppy get-up like Will, cutting your hair like Mac and—”

  “What’s wrong with wanting to be more like Mac?”

  “Nothing,” she said. “Mac’s a good man—a great one, actually. But I didn’t fall in love with Mac. Or Will. Or any other guy around here. I was in love with you over a year ago, and it’s you I want Savannah, Mason and Dylan to know. The real you. Not a poor imitation of who you think people want to see.”

  Nate froze, watching as she exited the truck and shut the door firmly. She started up the trail leading to the edge of a bluff, the wind rippling through her blond hair and long sleeves.

  Smothering a curse, he shoved his door open, then followed.

  “What else...McBride say to you?”

  Amber’s words broke on the wind sweeping past his ears. He took longer strides to catch up with her, squinting against the bright blaze of the sun.

  “What?” Nate watched the steady sway of her arms and legs as she walked rather than the swift rush of water seventy feet below them.

  She stopped when she reached the flat slope of the jagged bluff and faced him. “When McBride spoke to each of us in private on your and Landon’s graduation day. You said he told you to be loyal.” Her smile was weak. “What else did he say to you?”

  His lips barely moved, his voice gruff. “He said I had a bad streak.” He cleared his throat. “That I had a tendency to let people down, so I’d have to work hard at pulling through for others.”

  Her half smile vanished. “For me and Landon?”

  He nodded.

  “So you took off so you couldn’t let us down, is that it?” When he didn’t answer, she prompted, “Who did McBride say you’d already let down? Was it Mac? Landon? Or Paul?”

  Paul Benton. As close a friend to him as Landon for as long as he could remember. Always more levelheaded and sensible than he was.

  Nate jerked away and stared at the smooth grassy bank on the other side of the river instead. Focused on the gentle slope where he and Amber had made love over a year ago. Fall had stripped the green from it, leaving a coarse brown behind.

  “I don’t want to stay here,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have let you stay when you came up here last time and Paul should never have come up here with me when...”

  When they were seventeen. Man, it seemed like a lifetime ago.

  “Did it happen here?” Her soft voice was almost swallowed by the wind. “Or on the lower bluff?”

  “Here.” Nate looked down at his boots, then scrubbed one across the rocky dirt. “It was the summer after my dad died and Mac and I were working our asses off to keep the ranch afloat long enough to sell it at a decent price.”

  He swallowed hard, recalling the long days of uncertainty after losing both parents. They’d been lucky McBride had stepped in, assuming guardianship for the next year and allowing them to remain at Elk Valley Ranch.

  But the place seemed so empty and dark without their parents. So much so, even Mac had wanted out back then. Wanted to sell and start over somewhere else.

  “I was angry back then. Didn’t know what to do with it other than burn it off, find a release. So I took off one afternoon, picked up Paul, then drove here.” He rubbed his temples. “Landon and Mac had more sense than we did. They stayed behind.”

  “And?”

  “You know what happened.” He shoved his fists in his pockets. “Everyone knows what happened.”

  “Yeah, but you’ve never told me how you felt about it—refused to the night we spent together here.” Her expression gentled. “It might help to talk about it.”

  “I’m not discussing it. There’s no point.” He started toward the trail.

  “Then there’s no point in us trying to move forward together then, is there?”

  Nate stopped, his throat tightening. “What’d you say?”

  “If you want to pretend, Nate, you’ll be pretending alone. I won’t help you try to be someone you’re not and I won’t allow you to use our kids just to improve your image. So if Elk Valley opinions are more important to you than your own children—”

  He spun around. “You actually believe that?”

  “No.” Her voice hardened. “Not for a second. But I want to hear you say it. I want to hear you say that you care more about our kids than you do about what other people think.”

  “I do. Of course, I do.” He gritted his teeth and stalked toward her. “But what kind of father would I be if I didn’t try to be a better man than I’ve been? If I didn’t stop and think things through first instead of jumping in like I have a million times before, looking for a rush. Something to make me feel...” Alive? Less numb? He shook his head. “I should’ve had more damned sense than to jump off this bluff that night.” He glared down at the water as it surged relentlessly below them, crashing into jagged rocks and churning in high swells toward the falls farther downstream. “And I should never have brought Paul up here with me.”

  “You think you were the only one to blame?”

  His lungs burned, the remembered feel of water crashing over him taking hold. “Yeah. Paul was too smart to do something
so stupid on his own.” He swallowed hard. “It was my fault he drowned—”

  His voice broke and he looked away, unable to face her.

  “It wasn’t your fault, Nate.” Her soft palms cupped the back of his neck, warming his skin. “At seventeen, you were both still kids in a lot of ways. He made the choice.”

  “He only did it because he’d seen me do it so many times. He thought it was safe, and I didn’t talk him out of it. I should’ve...”

  “Should’ve what? Never have jumped yourself?” She moved closer, her hands sliding around to cradle his face. “Maybe not. But you’ve always been a bit of a daredevil. That’s one of the many things Mac and Landon admire in you. What Paul admired in you. We all do crazy things in our lives.”

  He lifted his head and met her gaze. “If it hadn’t been for me, Paul would still be here.”

  “You think you had any say in the matter? That you were in control that night?” Her blue eyes firmed. “You weren’t. Death was. Just like life was in control on the other side of the bank the night we were here over a year ago. The night we made three beautiful children.” She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her cheek to his chest. “Stop carrying this. Do whatever you need to do to put it down and forgive yourself.”

  Nate pulled her closer and hugged her back, her quiet words filling the hollow in his gut.

  “You told me yourself that people see what they want to see.” Her gentle tone vibrated against him. “You were right. It took me a long time to learn that. I loved McBride as much as you did but he was just a man like any other. He doesn’t have the last word on who you are. Neither does anyone else in Elk Valley. One awful day—even a handful of poor decisions—doesn’t make you a bad person.” She looked up at him. “You’ve always been a decent man. More than that. To me, you’ve always been the best.”

  His tense muscles eased, warmth unfurling in his veins and streaming through him. He couldn’t look away from her. Not from the admiration in her eyes or the peaceful patience in her expression.

  “If you can’t accept it from yourself then accept it from me,” she said. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  The sounds of rushing water faded at her back. The strong blaze of the setting sun softened to a glow behind the long strands of her hair as they lifted on the breeze.

  “Put it down, Nate,” she whispered. “Put it down and forgive.”

  Chapter 7

  Nate had never been more nervous in his life.

  He lifted his fist and knocked on the battered screen door in front of him. The metal frame clanged noisily against the wood one behind it, echoing against the dense line of trees at his back. A swift breeze chased leaves from branches and rustled the low bushes lining a graveled path leading away from the small porch he stood on down the other side of the sloping mountain.

  Grace Peak, a small community of isolated cabins scattered on the outskirts of Elk Valley, had never bustled and Sunday mornings were always tame around the area. But today it was more quiet and secluded than he remembered.

  Or maybe his memory had just failed him. After all, it’d been thirteen years since he’d last stepped foot on this particular mountain and he’d had no intentions of returning. Until last night on the bluff. Amber’s soft voice and gentle urgings had stayed on his mind until the early-morning hours, leading him to get up and drive here first thing this morning.

  “Ms. Benton?” He knocked again, a bit harder. Paul’s mom had always been an early riser—even on Sunday. A hardworking single mom, she’d always taken advantage of every second of daylight. “It’s Na—”

  “Nate Tenley.”

  He started, then turned to his right.

  A short, red-haired woman emerged from the tree line and stood below him on the graveled path, a fishing rod slung under her arm, one hand on her thick hip and the other clutching a tackle box. She wore a camouflage T-shirt, sturdy boots and a bulldog expression.

  Tina Benton hadn’t changed a bit.

  Her green eyes narrowed as they traveled over him. She stared for a few moments, a soft sigh escaping her before she asked, “Well now, a body doesn’t see you round here often, do they?”

  Not since that night years ago when he’d ridden up here with the sheriff to tell Tina Paul had drowned. That had been the last time he’d stepped foot on Tina’s property and he hadn’t been able to raise his head and face her at the time. Afterward, he’d been too ashamed to return.

  Nate dragged his clammy palms over his jeans and dug deep for a polite smile. “No, ma’am.”

  “My, how you’ve grown.” She studied his face, then glanced higher up the embankment at his truck parked in her driveway. “Been a heck of a long time since you been up this way. Whatcha want?”

  His strained smile widened into a real one. Tina never did waste time beating around the bush. And it was a good sign she’d at least acknowledged his presence.

  “I was in the area,” he said. “Thought I’d stop by and...” Apologize for being a foolish kid thirteen years ago? Finally face you and hope you don’t hate me? Ah, hell, how to word it? “I was hoping you might have time to talk?”

  “Maybe. But I ain’t doing it here.” She spun and started walking down the trail toward the base of the mountain.

  He watched her trudge on, his stomach turning uneasily. What now? He eyed a weathered wicker chair on the porch, guessing it’d do for a long stretch of waiting.

  “Well, you coming or not?” Tina glanced over her shoulder, then jerked her chin toward the porch. “Fish ain’t gonna bite but for so long before they go back to bed. Might as well make yourself useful while you’re here. Grab that old pole off the porch and bring your tail on.”

  Nate’s smile returned. “Yes, ma’am.”

  He grabbed the old fishing pole from the porch—one Paul had used years ago—then followed her along the steep mountain path. Several feet down the slope, Tina paused and whistled, the sharp sound cutting through the dense woods on either side of them.

  A short yip rang out, then a clump of bushes shook as a German shepherd darted through them and sprang to Tina’s side. The large dog caught sight of Nate, spun and ran up the path toward him.

  “Hey, Max,” Nate said, squatting and embracing the dog. He hugged Max’s warm body close, then ran his palm over his soft fur. “You look good, old buddy.”

  Max barked then licked his face, his thick tail scattering gravel as it wagged against the ground.

  “Max never forgets a soul,” Tina said.

  “I sure haven’t forgotten him.” Nate rubbed Max’s broad head once more, then rose and followed Tina.

  Max padded along at his side, stopping every few feet to sniff the ground, until they reached a clear bank by a small river.

  “Rock or tree?” Tina asked.

  Nate glanced at the large oak tree rooted at the edge of the river, its thick branches stretching out above the rippling water, then cocked an eyebrow at Tina. “I take it you still prefer the tree?”

  “I do.”

  He grinned. “Then I’ll take the rock.”

  She nodded, got settled at the base of the thick trunk, then opened the tackle box and pulled out two skirted jigs. “Here,” she said, holding one out. “Gear up.”

  He did, then stepped to the edge of a large rock jutting out beside the tree and cast his line. Tina tossed hers out, too, and they stayed silent for a while, listening to the gentle gurgles of the river and absorbing the faint warmth of the sun as it eased over the treetops, its golden rays dancing over the water. Max snuffled around a bit, then plopped onto a sunny section of the bank and stretched out.

  “Heard you were back in town,” Tina said. She leaned back and adjusted her stance against the broad tree trunk. The lines around her eyes and mouth were deeper than he remembered. And a bit of gray had worked itself into the hair at her temples. “It’s been a
while since I had decent company round here, so fill me in. What coaxed you off those bulls of yours?”

  “Wasn’t coaxing so much as flinging.” He smiled, then rubbed his injured side. Two and a half weeks ago, just grazing his fingers over it had stung. Now the pain had faded to an inconvenient tenderness. “Met a bull named Bastard, had a chat with him beforehand and thought we understood each other.” His grin grew. “Don’t think he liked me much. He knocked me on my ass within two seconds, then gave me a kick for good measure.”

  Tina laughed, the husky sound echoing across the bank. One he’d heard a thousand times growing up, fishing with her and Paul and joking around the river. One he’d missed for years.

  “Well, good for him,” she said. “You oughta know by now that your sweet talk only works outside of an arena, not in it.”

  He laughed with her. “I suppose.”

  “Been sweet-talking anyone in particular since you been home?”

  He dipped his head and rubbed his scruffy jaw against his shoulder, easing an itch. The soft cotton of his shirt against his skin reminded him of Amber’s gentle palms cradling his face. A warm, thrilling sensation stirred in his middle, then spread through his body.

  “Maybe.”

  Lips twitching, she gave him a knowing look. “Come on, now.” She jerked her chin toward his fishing pole. “It’s Sunday and you’re dipping your hand in God’s bread basket, so you might as well confess.”

  Nate reeled in his line a few more inches, focusing on the way the gentle current tugged at his fishing pole and how Amber’s forgiving words from last night tugged at his heart. Both were tangible—soothing—and lessened his sense of loneliness.

  “Tell the truth, son,” Tina teased. “It might be years since I last saw you, but I still know you as well as...” She stopped, her jovial tone fading. “I still know you. No matter how long it’s been.”

  A bittersweet feeling enveloped him. He met her eyes. “Amber Eason.”

  Her smile returned. “I thought as much. Seems you always had a soft spot for her. And she for you.” She looked at the river. “Amber’s probably glad to have you back here now that McBride’s gone. I heard she took to him something fierce after her mama died. Losing him, too, must’ve hit her hard. That girl’s lost a lot in her life.”