Page 54 of Ride Me Cowboy (Coyote Creek Ranch #1)

Chapter Thirty-One

Cole

T HE BOXES ARRIVE THE next day, and I can tell by the way Austin unpacks each crate that this is no ordinary wine. He spends at least an hour in the living room, repeating the same phrase: “Holy crap.”

But she doesn’t just send wine. Included with the package is the broad brimmed hat I gave her, that she’d put on and looked like such a ranch girl in.

I run my hands over the felted brim, my gut falling flat to my feet, as I remember her wearing it and realize I would do anything—absolutely anything—to know she still had this.

I didn’t give her anything else.

I didn’t give her anything she could take away with her from this place, anything she could remember us by. It was just this stupid hat, and now, she doesn’t even have that.

She’s sent two more notes. One for Austin. One for me. I leave the room to read mine, but I needn’t have bothered. It’s short and to the point: This belongs on the ranch.

I scrunch the paper up after I read it and stuff it in my pocket, my heart racing.

I put the hat inside, then go the stables, careful not to look up to the apartment above.

Careful not to think about how, for just a few short weeks, being up there with Beth felt an awful lot like how I’m supposed to be living.

I saddle up Rowdy and take him out, riding right to the edge of our land in one direction, then stopping, hopping off, and just standing there, looking at the fence that separates us from the Callahan’s, without even seeing it.

This belongs on the ranch.

And my heart starts to beat for a different reason now.

Beth’s right.

The hat belongs here. But so does she. And I damn well sent her packing, because I was too scared to accept what that meant.

It’s not just the note. It’s everything.

The way life’s been out here, these past couple of weeks, not having Beth around.

I mean, I’ve lived almost my whole life without her, I should have been able to slide right back into that, but I can’t.

The truth is, I don’t know how I ever lived without Beth Tasker.

Maybe the reason I didn’t understand that I was missing someone like Beth is because until I met her, I had no concept she existed. I thought I was whole. Complete and contained. My own person, solitary and content with that.

It was easy to keep relationships casual, to see women as a part of my life that was easy come, easy go. In truth, that had less to do with me, and more to do with the women I’ve dated.

There’s never been anyone like her.

There’s only one Beth, and finally, I get it. I get what she was trying to tell me. What Caleb and the others have been saying. I get why my dad never remarried after mom. I get why there are so many damn romance movies and books out there. I finally understand it.

Love.

The finality of it.

The futility of trying to fight it.

And the fact that no matter what, no matter the risk, I would rather love Beth, and have her in my life, than live another day like this.

“Well, fuck me,” I groan, getting back up on Rowdy and riding hard toward the house.

Every stride of his makes me realize how stupid I’ve been.

How set in my ways to the point I ruined everything.

Possibly beyond repair. Because that girl needed me, and I let her down.

She was brave, even after everything she’d been through, and I was the coward, who refused to face up to what we shared.

I told her I didn’t love her, and saw her face crumple. I saw her heart break, all because of me. I don’t even deserve a second chance after doing that to her, but God knows, I’m gonna ask for it anyway.

Beth

Emptied of all of our things, this place feels so different. I take a moment to walk around, going from room to room, letting the trauma of my marriage sit alongside me. I no longer need to run from it. Those memories are a part of who I am. That life is one I lived.

The apartment is being listed for sale this afternoon. The realtor already has several interested parties, meaning with any luck, it’ll be in escrow soon, and then off my hands. Once I walk out this door, I never intend to come back.

The question of where I’ll go still hangs over me. For now, the hotel is a safe haven of sorts. Somewhere I can hang my hat, I think, with a pang, because the only one I had and ever really loved is now back on the ranch, with Cole. Where it belongs.

I move to the door and open it, still amazed that I spent so many years unable to do that freely.

For the last time, I pull it closed, and hail the lift.

It arrives immediately then whooshes me down to the white marble lobby I’ve always loved.

It’s old and so impossibly grand. I take a moment to look around it, to fully appreciate the beauty of this apartment building that I have such mixed emotions about and then come to a total stop.

My feet refuse to move. My body forms a harsh line of tension and surprise. My heart, made sore and squishy from what I’ve just done, where I’ve just been, tries to quickly assemble a defensive barrier. But seeing Cole across the tiles, holding that damned hat, makes every part of me sag and ache.

His eyes though must have been trained on the elevator, because he’s watching me. Intently. Refusing to look away.

I tuck my hair behind my ear self-consciously.

I’m wearing the kind of clothes he’s never seen me in—a champagne colored silk dress that falls to my mid-thigh, and a pair of spike heels.

My hair is loose and waved. It’s how I used to dress, before, and I’ve been consciously trying to return to that, in the hopes I’ll start to feel more like my old self.

It’s not working, but maybe it will, if I stick with it.

Sure enough, his eyes sweep over me, his lips a grim line, so I don’t know what he’s thinking. I don’t know why he’s here, either.

My squishy heart limps a little.

I stay right where I am, giving him no choice but to walk toward me, because I sure as heck can’t make my legs cooperate.

As he draws near, I have the strangest feeling of unreality. Like maybe he’s not actually here. In my moment of need, have I somehow imagined him? Is this a delusion?

If it is, it’s a good one. My eyes eat him up, because he hasn’t changed.

Dark jeans, brown leather belt and boots, a nice, olive green button up shirt as a concession to the fact he’s not on the ranch but rather in the city, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Set against the ruggedness of the ranch, he was at one with it.

Here, in the city, surrounded by all this marble, the contrast turns his masculine wildness up by a factor of a thousand.

My mouth goes dry, and I wonder if my brain is going to fall into the same sluggish non-cooperation as my legs.

“Hey,” he says, looking at me like he’s seeing every part of me.

I try to make my mouth work, but my brain apparently isn’t driving anymore. I just shake my head a little. To clear away this fantasy? I don’t know.

Nothing makes sense.

A frown flickers on his face. “I brought back your hat.” He holds it up between us, like that’s an explanation for his being there.

I shake my head again, but finally my mouth starts to work. “It’s not mine.”

“It was a gift.”

I look away from him, thinking about how I gave him my heart and he gave it right back. Gifts aren’t always for keeps.

“I don’t really need it now,” I say with a tight smile, gesturing to the lobby. There’s no need for him to know I’m all packed up, that this is the last day I ever plan to stand in this building.

“Don’t you?”

I look at him sharply, my heart in knots. Is he trying to be intentionally cutting? That’s not like Cole. He doesn’t have it in him.

“You could have mailed it to me,” I point out, taking a small step backwards, because he’s close enough for me to see the tiny freckles on his nose, and the flecks of gold in his eyes, to smell his familiar, woody scent, so my stomach is cramping with memories and need.

“That’s true,” he says, tilting his head a little in acknowledgement. “But then I wouldn’t have gotten to see you.”

My heart stitches and my voice is breathy.

“Well, you’ve seen me,” I shrug. “Are we done here? Because I have a lunch to get to.” That, at least, is not a lie.

Elsie offered to come and inspect the apartment with me, but it was a ghost I felt I needed to exorcise on my own.

Instead, we settled on going for lunch somewhere that offers great food and many, many cocktails.

His features tighten but I refuse to make this—whatever this is—any easier for him. And then, it hits me. Why he’s here.

Cole Donovan, damn him, is just like his father. He needs to know I’m okay. He needs to know that he hasn’t destroyed me, so he can get on with his life without guilt. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself, if he thought I was out here, all broken into pieces by the fact he doesn’t love me.

But I do love him. I love him more than words can say. I love him enough to say and do whatever I have to in order to let him get on with his life.

Ignoring the palpating pain in my chest, I force an over bright smile. “So, if that’s everything?”

My voice is a little high pitched, but mostly gets the brief of easy, casual, friendship.

His frown scores more deeply in his face.

God, this needs to be an award-winning performance, and I don’t know if I have the energy to give it.

“I’m okay, Cole. You don’t need to worry about me.

” My stomach is in knots. My brain is telling me to stop, but my heart knows what I need to do.

“You were right, anyway. I was all mixed up. How could I not be, after what I’d been through?

I’m sorry I made it so weird with us, saying I loved you.

That was so stupid.” I laugh, but it’s a weird, brittle sound.

His brows lift, his expression confused. “You’re saying you don’t love me?”