Page 3 of Something Tangled Something True (Rosa Ranch #1)
GHOSTS OF THE PAST
“My Rose” by Beyoncé plays on the radio as I pull down the dirt road, finally back at the ranch.
Usually, on a Wednesday evening, I’d be tending to the cattle and making sure the ranch hands have everything stocked for the remainder of the week.
Instead, I’ve spent the last few days on an impromptu fishing trip with no cell service, drowning my sorrows in self-help books and tacky music.
I couldn’t stand to be surrounded by my family as they talk about the wedding and try to show me photos of her, smiling, gorgeous, and happy.
Damn, maybe those self-help books aren’t as helpful as I’d hoped.
I steer my thoughts away from Lola and focus on the crunch of my tires over the gravel, but the sound is drowned out by the ringing of my phone.
“Pops” flashes across the screen. I answer, putting him on speaker and turning down the radio.
“Hey, Pops. You need something? I’m almost at the gate,” I tell him, prepared to turn around and get whatever he needs.
“No, no. Your old man is fine, son. I’m just glad I caught you. I, uh, well?—”
This man is never at a loss for words, and now that he is, my anxiety is climbing.
“You mind tellin’ me what you're gettin’ at, please? You’re worrying me.”
“Well, I wanted to prepare you so when you got here, you weren’t surprised to see?—”
I’m not sure if he actually stopped speaking, or if it’s the sudden buzzing in my ears that causes his words to fizzle out, but the moment my tires stop at the gate…
I see her.
Lola Lima is walking across my property, as gorgeous as ever.
Hell, more gorgeous than ever, wearing a pair of cut-off denim shorts that hug her curves just right as she heads to one of the horse stables.
Her long, dark curls are perfect ringlets hanging around her shoulders, swaying with every step.
The sun glimmers off the dark strands, highlighting them to look like a halo.
Her cheekbones shimmer in the last hours of daylight, and the sight of her makes my heart skip about a dozen beats before starting up again.
“Ryder? Ryder, did we lose connection?” Dad asks.
Shaking my head clear, I say, “No, sorry. I see her.” Confusion mixes with apprehension as my mind runs a million miles a minute.
“Why is she here?” I’m not upset about it, but I thought she was getting married over the weekend.
That I’m crushed and furious over—not with her, but myself.
“Wasn’t she supposed to be off on her honeymoon?
” Vitriol drips into the sentence uncontained, a raw bitterness slipping into my voice.
The instant the words leave my mouth, regret stabs at me, twisting in my gut.
“She called it off.” That’s all he says, as if that answers anything.
“She called it off?” I ask in disbelief, repeating my father’s words like they went straight in one ear and out the other. My jaw hangs and, despite myself, butterflies take flight in my gut as elation floods me.
For the first time in years, we’re single at the same time.
“Yes, son. She said he wasn’t right for her.
” I should be relieved to hear that confirmation, but it only makes my jaw tighten.
“She called it off, and Mayte and the girls brought her here.” He pauses for a beat, and it’s a necessary reprieve for my racing mind.
“She’s gonna stay with us if that’s alright with you.
She’s staying in her old room in her parents' cottage.”
She’s here. She’s really here.
And if I’m not careful, I’ll only push her further away. It’s my fault there was ever any distance between us, after all.
“That’s… Yeah, Pops, that’s fine. I’ll be inside soon,” I tell him, not waiting for his response before ending the call.
I press the button for the electric gate, watching the motor whir to life, the belt moving in a smooth, methodical circle as the gate opens wide enough for me to pass.
I drive slowly, avoiding kicking up too much dust, closing the gate behind me.
My lungs protest as I suck in a breath so deep they might burst, blowing it out to lessen the suffocating weight pressing on my chest.
My fingers twitch with the desire to park by the stables and insist Lola give me even a moment of her attention, but if I come on too strong, she might spook.
Her usual loose posture, the kind that tells anyone within a two-mile radius she’s a dancer, her body ready to sway to the rhythm of any beat, is now the opposite.
Her spine is ramrod straight, shoulders tucked back, chin jutted forward as she marches across the dusty land.
Can she sense my gaze glued to her?It’s like my eyes can’t help but find her, from the moment I first saw her.
It only serves to remind me of the day we met, tugging me into a memory of a seven-year-old Lola stumbling out of her father’s truck wearing a lilac dress covered in roses.
Her dark curls were frizzy, hanging loosely down her back. Wide brown eyes met mine, her chin ducked, cheeks turning pink as she held my gaze in her own.
“Lola!” Mayte shrieked, bolting down the porch steps of the ranch house, her feet glowing with each step thanks to the rainbow dinosaur light-up sneakers my mom had gotten her for Christmas the year before.
“Mayte!” Lola had screamed in return, her voice high-pitched and sweet, deliriously excited to see her friend.She took off toward Mayte’s voice with a lingering glance in my direction.
A wide smile stretched my lips as I watched them embrace, my cheeks still flushed from her initial response to me. I’d known she was moving to the ranch with us because Mayte had moved here the year prior and spoke about Lola’s arrival for months.
What I hadn’t anticipated was how that pretty girl would become my best friend, and later, the one who got away.