Page 21 of Take Me Please, Cowboy (The Calhouns & Campbells of Cold Canyon Ranch #1)

Thursday morning, after helping her uncle with his morning routine and then arguing with him about trying to come to the kitchen table for breakfast, at least making the effort, Ansley gave in and helped him back to bed.

But once he was there, and content with his oatmeal and coffee, Ansley called Marcia at the gallery to discuss the invitation.

The call with Marcia left Ansley even more excited.

It was the first time anyone in the art business had treated her as a true artist. A true professional.

She hadn’t realized how much the inclusion would mean to her, and after discussing the exhibit with Marcia, she agreed she’d want to come see the space—and what section of the gallery would be her space—to make sure she had the right pieces, and enough pieces, to show.

But to go to Bozeman, she’d need someone to stay with Uncle Clyde.

Ansley resolved to discuss it with Melvin, certain he’d be supportive, and when he arrived that afternoon and she shared the invitation with him, he was so pleased she almost felt as if she was one of his grandkids.

“Do you want to go today?” Melvin asked. “Have you set a time with her?”

“I haven’t, but she is working today. But then she’s also working tomorrow.”

“Do what you want to do. Between Summer and me, we’ve got you covered.”

Ansley called Marcia back, asked if there was a good time to come by the gallery, and Marcia suggested that afternoon if it worked.

Ansley said it did and quickly showered and dressed, pulling her long hair into a ponytail to look a bit older, before driving the forty-five minutes it’d take to reach downtown Bozeman.

Marcia was even more lovely in person. She was younger than Ansley expected, early to midforties, with dark hair and light gray eyes, and a crackling energy that made it hard for her to stand still.

“This would be your area,” Marcia said, walking Ansley across the gallery to a massive wall with a half wall.

“I usually encourage the artist to share their vision for displaying their work, but I might have some thoughts.”

“Of course. I’m open to anything and everything.”

“Good, then I hope you’re open to adjusting the pricing for your work.

You are seriously undervaluing your landscapes, and I know you do a lot on Etsy and eBay, but consider increasing those prices.

Offer Ansley Art merchandise that’s affordable, but your originals should be priced accordingly.

” Marcia hesitated. “Do you have any questions about the commission we take?”

“I’d expect it’s the standard fifty percent.”

Marcia nodded. “It might seem like a lot, but we’re going to market you, introduce you to some of the biggest buyers in Gallatin County, and it’s something you’ll want to put on your resume.

I’ve worked hard to make this one of the more prestigious galleries in Montana.

My sales staff is exceptional and we’re in an excellent location. ”

“I know. And I’m thrilled. I haven’t stopped smiling since I got your email.”

“We’ll want everything to hang a few days before the opening night reception, so have everything to us by the twenty-fifty, maybe?”

“Do you have an ideal number of pieces you’d like me to show?”

“It depends on the size of your canvases, but usually it’s anywhere from ten to thirty. I’ve found that we sell the large 24x36 works well, but you’ll want a variety of sizes as everyone has a different preference, budget, and display space.”

“Thank you,” Ansley said as one of the sales staff flagged Marcia for a call. “And I’ll see you soon.”

“Can’t wait to see what you bring us.”

Outside, Ansley sat in her car parked on Bozeman’s bustling Main Street, heart thumping, emotion sweeping through her chest. For years, she alone had believed in herself, and for years she had persisted at her craft even when her family suggested over and over that she get serious and buckle down with a real job.

Painting was a hobby. She needed a real career.

She needed to contribute to society. She had been given a good education and she needed to use it.

The comments and criticisms had hurt, but Ansley knew who she was, and she knew what she wanted and this show in three weeks was proof that she was on the right track.

Her hard work hadn’t been in vain. One exhibit wouldn’t change the world, but it was a start to making the life she’d always dreamed of, the life where she could be creative and successful.

She’d have to call home and share the news with her parents, but before that, there was someone else she wanted to tell.

Ansley pulled out her phone and studied it for a long moment before typing a text to Rye.

I’ve had some exciting news and had to share.

I’ve been asked to participate in a three-person exhibit at a prominent art gallery in Bozeman.

It’s my first gallery show. I’m pretty excited. Just thought you’d want to know.

She waited a minute in case he answered. He didn’t.

She kept her phone on her lap while she drove back to Paradise Valley, but he didn’t call on the drive, or even while she made dinner, or did the dishes.

Turning out the kitchen light, Ansley told herself it was okay, that he didn’t have to call. He knew and that was enough. It had to be enough. Right then her phone rang. And it was Rye.

Blinking back tears, Ansley grabbed a coat from the hooks by the door and stepped outside to the covered porch to talk to him. “Hi,” she said, breathless.

“Is this a bad time?”

“No. It’s perfect. Just finished dishes.”

“How is your uncle?”

“Grouchy but fine.”

“Hope he’s not taking it out on you,” Rye said.

“No, and the Wyatts are being amazing. They’re coming every day to sit with him, letting me have some time to myself.”

“Good people.”

“Yes.” She drew a breath. “You saw my message?”

“I did. Congratulations, Ansley. I’m really happy for you.”

The warm sincerity in his voice made her exhale with pleasure. “Thank you.” She bit her lip, not sure if she wanted to cry or smile. She’d wanted so badly to hear from him and had been so afraid he wasn’t going to respond to her text. “How are you?”

“Good. And you?” he replied.

“Better now that you’ve called.” Her voice cracked and she fought to keep all the emotion in.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting. I was working earlier, and then trying to get on the road for Pendleton.”

She knocked away the tears and suppressed a shiver at a chilly gust of wind. “You’re driving now?”

“I am. Getting close to Sandpoint, Idaho.”

She glanced at her watch. It was almost seven. “How much farther do you have to go?”

“Another four hours or so.”

“It’s going to be a late night.”

“That’s alright. I’ll sleep in tomorrow. Anyway, tell me more about your show. When did you find out?”

“Last night.” She drew her coat closer. The weather was changing. Fall was coming. The nights were already so much colder. “I wanted to call you right away, but you said no contact.”

“You should’ve called me. This is big.”

She paced the porch, glad he couldn’t see her or her nervous energy. She didn’t want him to know just how much she’d missed him and how afraid she’d been that she’d lost him. “I know I’m supposed to leave you alone.”

“Don’t put it that way.”

“But you’d meant it that way.”

“This isn’t easy. I’m finding this hard, too.”

She leaned against the porch pillar. “Why can’t we stay in touch? Even if it’s just a little bit? A little bit would be so much easier than nothing.”

“Because I want you to meet someone there.”

“Well, I don’t.”

He laughed, half amused, half exasperated. “We can only be friends.”

“Then you shouldn’t have kissed me like that. You shouldn’t have made me feel like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like I can do anything. That I can be anyone. You gave me the feeling of possibility and I won’t give it up.” I won’t give you up , she added silently, straightening.

“You’re the one with magic in you,” he said, huskily.

She swallowed. “We need to change the rules. I don’t like your rules.”

“What rules are those?”

“That we can’t see each other and we’re not to stay in touch. It’s too hard, Rye. Cutting me off, cutting me out, hurts too much.”

He didn’t immediately speak. She heard him exhale at the other end of the line. “I don’t want you to hurt, babe. That’s the last thing I want you to do.”

“Then don’t close the door,” she whispered. “Let’s leave it cracked open. Let me hope.”

Silence stretched again. “Hope is a dangerous thing,” he said at length.

“Hope is hope.”

“Exactly,” he ground out. “We should be responsible.”

“How is it irresponsible to care? People need love. People need affection. Even tough guys like you.” She’d tried to sound playful, but the words stuck in her throat, the intensity of her feelings making the words come out sharp and raw.

“So, what are we supposed to do?” he asked.

“You said earlier that we’re friends. Well, let’s be real friends,” she said without hesitation. “Let’s talk. Communicate. Stay in touch.”

“But if we do, we will just get more attached. I’ll get more attached.”

“And you don’t want to.”

“I don’t want to,” he agreed.

Her heart fell. She was on such a roller coaster of emotion, so many staggering ups and downs. “Why? How can I be that wrong for you?”

“It’s the distance—”

“Distance can be overcome.”

“And then it’s our backgrounds. We come from different places. You’ve never said it, but I have a feeling you come from money—”

“You can’t hold that against me!”

“I don’t, but when I try to picture you in my world, I don’t see it working.”

Her eyes stung and she took a deep breath, trying to stay focused. “And you can’t see yourself in my world?”

“Not the way things are.”

She processed this for a bit. “Is there ever a time you could see it working?”

He sighed, sounding terribly exhausted, and more than a little frustrated. “I’d like to say yes, but that would just be leading you on.”

Ansley nodded and swallowed, determined to keep calm. Rye would run if she began weeping. “I appreciate your honesty.”

“I feel like an ass.”

“Don’t. Real friends are honest with each other.” She paused, gathering herself. “I should go check on Uncle Clyde. Get to Pendleton safely.”

“I will. Good night.”

“Good night, Rye.”

Ansley hung up and dropped her phone into the coat pocket before lifting her face to the moon and the smattering of stars.

She didn’t want to regret meeting Rye at the hospital during the rodeo weekend, but oh, things would be so much simpler now if she hadn’t.

She’d be able to focus on her work, and making friends here, and taking care of her uncle.

Instead, she was pining for a man who didn’t see a future with her, a man who said he cared but wasn’t going to let her in.

Oh, Ansley, queen of impossible dreams.