A strangled laugh escaped my lips and I turned to look at her over my shoulder. “Their asses did look pretty phenomenal in those jeans.” Cy’s especially when he had marched away after dressing me down with his long-legged and confident stride. He was a man who moved with purpose and determination. He moved like nothing would distract him or deter him from the path he was on, like whatever he had to do was far more important than anything else happening. I always envisioned a real cowboy would move like that, minus the slightly bow-legged stance that my overactive imagination often added for dramatic effect.
Emrys laughed and some of the weight I’d been carrying around in my heart lately lightened a bit.
“Just play nice with everyone for the next week, Leo. That’s all I’m asking.”
“I can do that.” She wasn’t asking for much, and as long as big brother Warner stayed away from me, I should be able to comply with no problem. I was here to invest some quality time in our friendship and to give my battered heart and sense of self some much needed space. My ability to trust and my faith in my own judgment had been eviscerated. Maybe the quiet and disconnect from everything that was familiar would work at healing all the things Chris and his lies had left torn and tattered.
I was going to do my best to trust these not quite cowboys to not only guide us through the mountains and the wilderness but hope that along the way, they somehow managed to guide me back to who I was before I was broken.
Not Quite the Typical Dinner Conversation
Since my showdown with Mr. Personality had eaten into the allotted hour that we’d been given before making our appearance at dinner, I offered Emrys the tiny, perfectly rustic but still modern bathroom instead of claiming it for myself. I figured I’d already tanked any kind of good impression I was going to make for the day, so there was really no point in trying to spruce myself up and pretend to be someone who was more pleasant and put together than I actually was. Plus, I was determined to pull my head out of my ass where my best friend was concerned, and give her the memorable, bonding experience that she obviously wanted from this trip. There weren’t many people in the world I would attempt to adjust my attitude for. Emrys just happened to be at the top of that list, and truth be told, I was tired of being miserable and of making others who cared about me miserable, as well.
At first, when the truth about Chris and our sham of a relationship came out, I was heartbroken and devastated. It didn’t take long for those emotions to bleed into embarrassment and anger. That embarrassment meant I did my best to keep to myself. I wanted to lick my wounds in private, which had me doing everything I could think of to keep my bossy best friend away. I blew her off. I ditched our regular weeknight get-togethers. I ignored her calls and left her hanging. I even ditched several of the previous business engagements we’d agreed to go to together, leaving her to fend off horny businessmen all on her own. I missed her birthday and purposely started a knock-down-drag-out fight with her when she called me on my bullshit. I didn’t want anyone close enough to see the way I was hurting, especially not the person who knew me better than anyone else. Luckily for me, Em was as stubborn as she was demanding. I pushed her away as hard as I could but she never went anywhere. She scaled those mile-high walls and did her best to drag me back to the land of the living. I owed her the best week I could possibly give her.
Emrys disappeared into the bathroom and I took the time alone in the room to change into jeans and a fitted plaid shirt. I pulled my tangled hair out of the ponytail it was more than likely going to live in for the next week and rubbed my fingers over my scalp as it tingled in relief. I smirked when I caught sight of myself in the big mirror that hung on the back of the closet door. Once I added the new Justin Roper boots I had bought specifically for this trip, I would look more like what I always envisioned a traditional ranch hand looked like. Going with that, I plaited my hair into twin braids that ran down either side of my head in a style I hadn’t worn it in since I was a little girl. My hair had just enough red in it that when I was younger I was afraid of the Pippi Longstocking jokes but because it curled wildly and in every which way, what I got instead was Little Orphan Annie. The jibes hurt, mostly because of the reasons behind the name calling. It was well known that my grandparents were raising me because my mother didn’t want me and my father was never in the picture. Knowing that you weren’t wanted by the person who brought you into the world was a tough pill to swallow. Luckily, my grandmother and grandfather had gone out of their way to make sure I grew up knowing they more than loved me and would give me everything they could to make up for my mother’s neglect. I’d never wanted for anything in my life, except for the ever-elusive answers as to how my mother could decide she didn’t love me when I wasn’t even old enough to give her a reason not to.
I’d asked the question to both my grandparents and to the woman who had given me life. No one had a response that offered any kind of relief. There was no answer. There was no reason. To her, I was simply unwanted, an inconvenience. She already had her life planned out and I was never supposed to be a part of it. I was problematic, and to her that made me unlovable and that was enough for her to give me up and walk away from me forever.
Emrys told me it was my good fortune she left me behind. My grandparents put me in the best schools, in every kind of extracurricular activity that struck my fancy, took me to see the world, taught me about different cultures, and instilled an appreciation for hard work and self-reliance. They raised me to be independent, to think for myself, but the fact that the reason I had all those opportunities at my fingertips was because I was abandoned always niggled at the back of my mind. It drove me to be as close to perfection in all things as I could get. I knew there wasn’t anything wrong with me, that the problem lay within the woman who couldn’t be a mother. Still, the questions remained, and with them the fear that maybe, just maybe, there was something about me that people found hard to love. It made me defensive and prickly around people, especially people who tried to get close.