Kat
Billy and I walked side by side toward the barn. The sun had started to break through the clouds, but it was still cold. Anyone who grew up on this ranch knew that the Morgan boys took challenges seriously. It was one of the ways Duke kept his unruly boys in check. If you said you could do it, then you had to prove it or suffer the consequences. So, when Wyatt challenged my sentiments and I confirmed, I was stuck. Otherwise, I had to agree to the idea that a woman was only as valuable as her recipe book. Billy had been quiet ever since Wyatt tricked me into working as a temporary ranch hand. I didn’t want to spend the day with him if it was going to make him miserable, but part of me hoped he wanted me close. Either way, it was best to get things out into the open.
“Billy, are you okay with this?” I asked.
He seemed tense but humble when he answered, “I don’t want you to feel obligated to help today. I know Wyatt can be…”
“Bull-headed?”
“No…”
“Pompous?”
“No…”
“Endearing?”
He laughed. Then he stopped walking, turned to me, and said, “I realized what he was doing, and I didn’t stop him.”
It took a second for it to sink in that if Billy didn’t stop Wyatt from tricking me into doing his job for the day, then on some level, Billy was saying he wanted to spend the day with me. I stood there flabbergasted. I was shocked by how much I felt. I was shocked that he admitted he wanted to spend the day with me, and I was shocked that spending the day with Billy filled my belly with all kinds of happy butterflies. In response to my dumbfounded expression, Billy offered me an out. “You can just go back to the house. I can handle today on my own.”
I turned, headed towards the barn, making sure I was swinging my ass a little, then looked over my shoulder and said, “C’mon, cowboy, we got fences to mend.”
He laughed again and moved to catch up with me.
I have to admit, it had been a long time since I had to saddle a horse from start to finish, but it’s not something you forget. I wasn’t surprised when Billy suggested I ride Teacup, a chestnut brown Appaloosa that the family got when I was sixteen. I’d always enjoyed riding her, but she had a tendency to spin in circles for anyone but me. As Billy led her towards me, he said, “Mostly Sarah rides her now. She doesn’t spin for her either.”
“Maybe,” I offered, “Teacup’s cup of tea is ladies?” I put my foot in the stirrup and swung my leg over the saddle. Showing Teacup affection by rubbing her neck, I said, “Is that it, girl? Are you a gal’s gal?”
Once he was sure I was settled, Billy handed me Teacup’s reins. It should have been nothing, but as he passed the brown leather straps into my hands, our fingertips brushed ever so lightly. That tiny caress rippled through my body like playing a perfect chord on my guitar. Our eyes met. Billy’s blues darkened with desire. There was so much history between us. There were so many words we left unsaid. There was so much anger and there was so much love. I couldn’t pretend anymore that I only had old feelings for Billy. I always had feelings for him, and I still did. I just pushed them down so deep that I buried a part of myself too.
I reached out and gently ran my fingers across his jawline. His eyes closed at my touch. His stubble was thicker and there were subtle lines at the corners of his eyes. Sweetly, I whispered, “You’re older than I remember.”
He echoed my tone, “Is that bad?”
“No,” I said wistfully. “It’s the only thing that feels unfamiliar.”
A heavy-hearted look crossed his face. Then he patted my knee, grabbed his hat off the hook on the wall, and moved to mount his own horse, Napoleon.
* * *
We spentthe day riding side by side. Now that they owned my property, The Morgan ranch sprawled 561 acres. Their original ranch was 500 acres. My grandma sold Duke sixty acres after my grandpa died. My grandpa was never a farmer. He was a mechanic. He bought the land as an investment and let Duke’s family use and tend the land for free for years. Then when he died suddenly, Duke overpaid so that my grandma, mom, and I were protected. It only made sense years later that I sold him the house for nothing much. I didn’t need the money.
561 acres was an average size ranch, but on the back of a horse on a snowy day, it’s a lot of rolling white land. Mostly, we were circling the property, checking that the storm didn’t take down any posts or break the fence line in any other way. Cows had a tendency to sense downed fences and wander off, which was a way more complicated problem than resetting a fence.
As we rode, we talked. We talked about each of Billy’s siblings, who they had dated, what they wanted to do with their lives, who he was worried about, who he wasn’t. He was as invested in them as he’d always been. Loved each of them so much, even when they frustrated him. We also talked about Duke’s reluctance to retire and Billy’s frustration that his father still didn’t seem to trust him to take over the ranch operations completely. And then Billy said, “So, what’s it like being famous?”
As you would expect, being famous was a mixed bag, but I’d been trained to never answer this particular question honestly. Fans don’t want to hear that it’s hard to be famous. I shrugged, “It’s great.”
“Really?” he asked, steering Napoleon to the right with a subtle flick of his wrist.
“What’s not to love? I get paid to make my music. That’s what I wanted, right?” I smiled and moved to encourage Teacup to follow suit. Billy was quiet for a minute, clearly mulling over what he wanted to say next. I decided to speak first. “Listen, a lot of it is really wonderful. I love what I do. I love the music and most of the time, fans are great. But sometimes it’s scary that everyone knows you and sometimes it’s a hassle that you can’t just walk into a coffee shop and get a cup of coffee. Touring is exhausting and it can get lonely because, when you're the star, you're not really part of the crew. It’s hard to be sure that new people aren’t just looking for a free ride and I grew up surrounded by people I trusted, so that’s hard to find...” I realized I was rambling.
“You seemed sad last night,” he said. “I thought maybe it wasn’t all peaches and cream.”
“Is anything?” I asked, cynically.
“And what about…” He couldn’t seem to find the words.
“What about what?”
“Do you have someone?” he said, lips tight.
“No, I mean, I have…”
“Don’t.” He seemed to be begging. “Don’t tell me about the men you’ve had, Kat.”
I laughed. “You had to have known I’ve had boyfriends, Billy. It’s in the tabloids, for Pete’s sake.”
He looked embarrassed. “I might have Googled you once or twice. But that doesn’t mean we need to talk about it.”
“There was never anyone special, really.” I paused. “Not like with you.” We rode in silence for a few minutes and then I asked, “What about you? Is there someone in your life?”
“Sure, there’ve been a few. But the whole town thinks of me as the guy that was in love with Kat Bennett.” I’d never thought about that. It never occurred to me that being connected to me would affect how others saw Billy. “Do you know how many times women in bars have come on to me by asking what your favorite sexual position was?”
I started laughing. “That can’t be true.”
“Oh, it’s true,” he retorted.
There was a long pause and then, at the same time, we said something I used to say, “Good cowgirls ride on top.”
We both broke into real laughter. And then Billy pointed up ahead to a break in the fence, and winking at me said, “Come on, cowgirl. We got work to do.”