“I understand that more than you could possibly know.” Josie’s gaze circled the cab, then hung on the road ahead, on the few narrow feet illuminated by the headlights of Seth’s truck.
His words struck some chord here, but rather than pluck them again to see if he could elicit an even greater response, he chose to leave it be. The blinker clicked out its indicating metronome. He didn’t need it—there was no one else on this barren stretch of dirt—but out of habit he flipped the lever.
“We’re here,” he said, an announcement even more unnecessary than the blinker. “Sorry tonight was a little weird. I’m just kind of off today.”
Seth hadn’t wanted to admit his father’s words had pierced him in the way they did. Straight through his heart, right next to the other holes created each time Mitch expressed his disappointment. Seth had a lifetime’s worth of them, as punctured as a bullet-riddled tin can used for target practice. A grown man shouldn’t put that much stock in their father’s opinion. But sometimes, it seemed like that was all Seth was worth.
His paycheck came out of his father’s account. The deed to the very walls he rested his head within were in someone else’s name. And when he looked to his future, he saw a flimsy replica of his father’s, his grandfather’s, his great-grandfather’s.
He felt like he wanted more, but wasn’t even sure what that more could be or what it could possibly look like.
Turning the key in the ignition, he sat still in the driver’s seat and stared through the bug-speckled windshield while the truck hissed as the engine cooled. Josie’s fifth wheel was a new fixture on the land, but it didn’t look out of place. And oddly, having her at his side didn’t feel out of place, either. But when her hand covered his—the warmth of it, the forgotten feel of a woman’s soft skin on his own—well, he thought for a split second he might know exactly what that more was that he wanted out of life.
Surely there was no way that was going to be Josie Friar.
8
Josie
“Gosh darn it!”
The shampoo bottle clattered to the shower basin, splitting the plastic along the seam and sending goop all across the walls of the fiberglass stall. Josie hated showering. Not that she enjoyed being dirty, but ever since breaking that dang arm it made commonplace practices like bathing as difficult as solving a Rubik’s cube blindfolded. But she knew she stunk to high heaven and a shower was in order, especially after the morning she’d had.
The horses were in rare, albeit welcome, form. She assumed she’d have to hold off on haltering them for a few days more, but when Bruiser sauntered right up after she entered the paddock with a wheelbarrow full of hay, she opted to try her luck. After all, she wouldn’t know their boundaries unless she tested them a little. To her delight, the mustang let her slip the halter over his muzzle with ease but just when she was about to flip the leather strap up and over to secure it under his throat, he reared—an all out, front hooves in the sky, nose to the clouds, rodeo-style rear.
She had managed to scoot out of the way in the nick of time, but couldn’t avoid landing on her backside, smack dab in the middle of a still-steaming, fresh manure pile. Sure, it helped break her fall, but left her smelling like the dumpster bin of a fully loaded garbage truck.
She didn’t let a little mess deter her, though. That’s what washing machines were for. She brushed herself off and tried again. And again. Each attempt was met with a fraction more success, until—three full hours later—she had Bruiser haltered with all four hooves safely planted on the ground. He even let her attach a lead rope but he wasn’t about to follow her around while tied to it. Josie would have to save that hurdle for another day.
Getting that halter on Bruiser was her biggest win with the horses yet. She’d learned as a young girl to always end on a good note with equines and with people. She had a hard time with the people part. Horses came easier. Always had.
By two o’clock, she had called it a day and walked the short distance back to her trailer. The driveway to the ranch was lined with ornamental pear trees, an autumnal arch of rich, vibrant color. Fall was clearly in full swing, showing off with fiery reds and burnt oranges on leaves that clung to branches with loose, noncommittal grasps. Many had already released their clutches to become part of the landscape below and Josie dodged the leafy piles that crunched under her boots. She shivered. She’d shrugged off her trucker jacket earlier in the day but figured by sundown it would be a necessity. There was a chill in the air that threatened to turn into a full blown wind in no time.
Once inside her trailer, she had immediately stripped out of her clothes, wadded them into a ball for the laundry basket, and ran a warm shower. It was easy to rinse away the day’s stench, less easy to scrub clean the purplish marks on her thighs left from the impact of her fall. That stallion was quickly earning his name, each and every syllable of it.
“Ahh,” Josie winced. There would be a hitch in her get along tomorrow, no question about that. She wasn’t a stranger to being knocked off kilter. Sometimes it was in the physical sense by a horse she’d read wrong. Other times, she was set off balance emotionally, more often than not because she’d read a person wrong.
She let the beads of scorching water pelt her back while she rolled out her shoulders and shrugged them up to her ears. Then she dropped them back down, her muscles aching but grateful for the sweet relief. Had she read Seth wrong the night before? She didn’t think so. She recognized that pain. Felt it like it was her own, as familiar as a not-so-distant memory. Had they not been playing this pretend relationship game, she doubted she would’ve so freely reached out in an attempt to console him. Maybe there was some testing of boundaries here, not unlike the way she challenged the mustangs to let her know where the line was. From what she could tell, Seth was okay with her reaction. Maybe he even needed that comfort, in that form, in that moment.
What surprised Josie the most was that she had needed it, too.
Shuddering, Josie grabbed the shower knob and gave it a hard twist. The water shut off, pooling in a frothy swirl near the drain at her feet until it disappeared with an audible glug. She yanked the towel draped over the shower door and buried her face in the terrycloth fabric, heaving out a warm breath that magnified the cotton scent of the detergent. She had just wrapped the towel around her body, tucking it up under her armpits, when a knock rattled her screen door.
“Who could that be?” she muttered to Cowboy who remained completely disinterested in their surprise afternoon visitor. He lifted his head just enough to show his indifference before dropping it back onto his paws and coiling his tail around the entirety of his body like a wraparound scarf. Josie often wished it was socially acceptable to block out the world the way that cat did. But a second, more insistent knock didn’t afford her that opportunity. “Alright. Alright. I’m coming!”
“Good afternoon, Josie,” a woman with salt and pepper corkscrew curls and a smile that revealed a full set of remarkably large teeth greeted when Josie kicked the screen open wide.
“And you are?” Josie tugged the towel tighter under her arms.
“Come on now. That’s no way to talk to your possible future mother-in-law.” The woman shouldered around Josie to let herself in. “Well goodness. This place sure is…quaint…Isn’t it, sweetheart?”