A Blind Date With Her Cowboy Billionaire Boss Page 8

  “No, you’ll just think it,” he said, nudging her. “Hey, are you okay?”

  “Yeah, just…” Shelby shrugged. “Weddings.”

  Colt nodded. She didn’t need to explain. “You want to go for a ride? Get out of here?”

  She looked at him curiously and asked, “Won't your guests mind?”

  “Ah, I'm a drop in the ocean to them. They won't even notice I'm gone.”

  She smiled, seeming to brighten a touch. “Alright,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  Colt brought Midnight out of the stables and helped Shelby up. He sat behind her and with one loud, ‘Yah!’ Midnight took off down the trail.

  The steed followed the usual path, going along the endless ranch property until they reached a clearing outside of some woods. The whole valley smelled of fresh-cut grass and evergreens.

  “Your ranch is absolutely amazing,” Shelby said, breathless as she looked around. “I never really got the chance to tour it like this. It’s beautiful.”

  “Your riding skills are absolutely amazing,” he complimented.

  “Thanks. My dad used to have horses. My parents used to live in Texas. They're in New York now, so we've had to sell their horses,” she explained. “I certainly couldn't afford to keep them.”

  “Any interest in getting another one?” he asked.

  “Oh, I'd love to. But I don't think a horse would fit in my closet at Whitney's house,” she snorted.

  “Well, I'm sure you'll be out of there in no time,” he said. He was certainly paying her enough to get her own apartment.

  “Yeah. That's the thing,” she began slowly as they trotted through the property. “I'm not sure I want to leave. I don't do well with quiet.”

  “Then you must love it at my house,” he joked.

  He couldn’t see it, but he could tell from her tone that she was smiling. “Unless James and Whitney get engaged or he moves in, I think I'll just stay put,” Shelby said. “For a little while, anyway.”

  “Fair enough,” he nodded.

  Colt closed his fingers and squeezed Midnight’s reigns just a touch, pulling them back until the horse came to a halt. When he did, Colt dismounted and helped Shelby down.

  “Feels nice to stretch my legs,” she said, rubbing at her thigh.

  “I forget not everyone has a tolerance for the cowboy stance,” he said, mimicking an overdramatic cowboy walk. She laughed, and it made him happy to see her smile.

  “I'll tell you what, Shelby,” he said without thinking. “If you ever decide that you love the apartment life but miss the riding, you can store your horse here at the ranch. We'll board him.”

  “Or her,” she winked.

  “Or her!” he repeated happily. “Free of charge, no problem.”

  “Seriously?”

  “I've been thinking of adding another girl to the family,” he said, raising a shoulder. “Maybe you can come help me pick her out sometime. We'll make a special stable with your name on it. That way she'll know she's not a wild horse. She belongs to someone.”

  Shelby’s face seemed to glow as she looked up at him. “That's...so incredible. I don't know what to say. Thank you,” she said.

  Colt nodded, feeling overwhelmed by his attraction to his nanny. He took a step back and looked out in the distance. “We should head back,” he suggested.

  By the time they had gotten back to the wedding, the reception had already begun. Colt made sure he docked the meals for himself and his friends and set up an extra table for his wedding-crashers.

  The meal was incredible, as was the reputation of his ranch restaurant.

  After dinner, the dancing began.

  Whitney and James were always good for this. Slow or fast dancing, they were up for it. During a slower song, Colt worked up the nerve to get on the dancefloor.

  He looked at Shelby and smiled. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m about to ask the most beautiful girl in the world for a dance.”

  She looked at him curiously and clapped her hands joyously when she saw him scoop Eleanor up and walk her out to do a daddy-daughter slow dance. To his surprise, Shelby joined them on the floor, ‘dancing’ with Isaiah.

  “Switch!” Whitney shouted as the next song came on. She grabbed Isaiah and James took Eleanor, blatantly leaving Colt and Shelby without partners.

  Colt extended his hand to the stunning blonde in front of him, and she slipped her delicate fingers into his palm. He pulled her close, dangerously close, and whispered in her ear, “Hey, I never got to drill you about our non-date.”

  “What about it?” she asked.

  “I told you why I was so opposed to the date. What about you?” he nodded toward her. “You seriously had no desire to get out and meet someone new? Start planning your future getaway from Whitney's apartment?”

  “Not especially,” she grinned. “I think I've had enough cowboy adventures for one lifetime, anyway. No offense.”

  “Ouch,” he said. “Bad experience?”

  Her eyes went comically wide as she said, “Beyond bad. We were married. We met when I was twenty-two; we were divorced twenty-five.”

  “You're twenty-five now, right?”

  “That's right,” she confirmed.

  “What happened?”

  “He worked on a ranch,” she said, as though that answered everything. “Nothing even close to this. He was a stable boy, but it sucked up a lot of his time.”

  “So, this split was pretty recent, then?”

  She nodded. “It was just a couple of months ago. We had a...well, something happened that we couldn't seem to get over.”

  Colt couldn’t imagine a marriage failing so soon. He didn’t ask what happened that they couldn’t get over. Couples could find a myriad of things to argue over if they put their minds to it. But cheating, he assumed, was the most obvious reason why they might get a divorce.

  “And eventually he told me he wanted out,” she explained. “He told me I was a selfish person, and he needed to find someone easy to be with. Actually, correction,” she laughed spitefully, “he told me he already found someone else. Some country bumpkin from the ranch.”

  “Strike-two for the ranch life,” he said.

  “Yeah. And you know, it wasn't even just the cheating; it was all the other cowboy bull.”

  “Cowboy bull?” he repeated, amused.

  “Yeah, you know. That stoic kind of guy. The 'I don't have to tell you my feelings because I'm a cowboy' and the 'Buck up' when you're crying attitude. He just kept to himself. Emotionally, I mean. And I think that's what really ended up driving us apart.”

  Colt raised a brow. “More than the cheating?”

  “I mean, I wasn't exactly happy about that either, don’t get me wrong. But he was at his worst, and he made a mistake. What kind of wife would I be if I couldn't forgive that?”

  “Seems like the ultimate betrayal to me,” Colt said.

  He couldn’t imagine how he would have felt if Amma had cheated on him. Didn’t that tear down the very essence of what your relationship was? How could you ever go back to your partner feeling like you had something special after knowing they did something like that to you?

  “It is,” she agreed. “But I could have let it go.”

  “If what?” he asked.

  Shelby swayed to the music. The light of the sunset behind them caught her eyes, causing the normally blue irises to look a deep gray-purple.

  “If he still loved me,” she admitted.

  “What makes you so sure that he didn't?” he asked.

  Shelby’s eyes filled with tears, but they didn’t fall. “Trust me,” she said with a bitter smile. “A woman knows.”

  “I'm sorry,” he said, swaying with her to the music behind them. “That's awful. Your ex sounds like a real piece of work.”

  “Sometimes I wonder if maybe I deserved it,” she said with the verbal equivalent of a shrug.

  Her statement caught Colt by surprise. He felt a catch in his throat at the idea that anybody wo
uld deserve to be treated so poorly.

  “Why?” he asked, but Shelby didn’t answer.

  “I can't think of any reason why someone as sweet and kind as you would ever deserve to be treated like second best,” he said firmly. “I may not know you that well, Shelby, but I see what you give to my kids. If you gave even half of that to your ex, then he didn't deserve you. Not the other way around.”

  Shelby’s expression remained unchanged. She was far from convinced by Colt’s words.

  “So, you're calling off love?” he asked.

  The blonde smiled and nodded, looking up at him. “I'm calling it off!” she said playfully, despite the tears in her eyes.

  Colt leaned close to her ear and whispered, “Then I'm calling it off with you.”

  “Solidarity,” she brightened. “Sounds like a deal to me.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Shelby

  Shelby couldn’t sleep. Her mind was a haze of memories, whizzing by like pages of a photo album. Just as she went to grab a memory and reflect on it, a hand would turn the page and other conversations, smells, and feelings would come into view.

  She opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling above her. They were white square tiles. The kind you could push up and hide something in. She wondered if Whitney had hidden anything in the ceiling. Probably not.

  Shelby thought about the non-date night she had shared with Colt. Then she thought about the wedding and how sweet he had been to her. He didn’t judge her or shame her for her feelings.

  But they were both broken, she supposed, and you don’t judge someone for breaking when you yourself are shattered.

  Her thoughts trailed to the kids, Isaiah and Eleanor, and how good they had been for her that day. Then she thought about Powell and Andrew and the little family she had created, only to watch it disappear in front of her eyes.

  Andrew worked hard for their family, but he was gone a lot. He worked long hours and rarely came home to help with Powell, not even after he was first born. She understood at the time that they couldn’t afford for him to miss work, especially with her taking maternity leave, but she was left alone a lot and she was exhausted.

  She’d come into the habit of taking Powell into bed with her. She was a light sleeper, so it was easy for her to wake up and check on him if he stirred. She’d even set up a wall of pillows against the edge of the bed as a protective measure.

  Shelby had been up for days straight, with only the sparse nap in-between feedings, and she was beyond tired. She didn’t know humans could be that tired.

  She lay Powell down next to her and drifted off for what only felt like a minute. But when she woke up, Powell had passed away.

  Shelby blamed herself, as any mother would. She insisted she must have accidentally rolled on him, covered him with a blanket, or that he’d been smothered somehow.

  But no. Doctors, her therapist, friends, family, and the official autopsy all said the same thing. It was SIDS.

  No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t wrap her conscience around it.

  She’d gone into a fog.

  “It’s not enough,” Andrew said after he’d tossed the divorce papers onto her lap. “I need someone who can be there for me.”

  “Be there for you?” she repeated, incensed. “Be there for you?” she said again, louder this time. “If you were there for me, none of this would have happened!”

  Andrew spun on his heel, his eyes dark and pained. He tried his best to stay calm as he said, “That's not fair, Shelby. I have never blamed you, not once have I ever, ever blamed you for what happened.”

  “He's dead,” she said harshly. She wanted him to blame her. She wanted someone to be responsible for what happened.

  She’d never seen Andrew yell until that night. He screamed at her, “It was an accident!”

  Her eyes went wide and filled with tears at the sudden outburst. Andrew pressed his lips thin and wouldn’t break eye-contact with her as he snapped, “If you could just accept that fact, maybe, just maybe I would have gotten my wife back.”

  She inhaled sharply, incredulous. “It’s only been three months, Andrew. I need time. I need to process this and get over it and heal.”

  “Well now you have all the time you want,” he said, staring at her.

  He watched her long enough to make sure she comprehended what he was saying to her. When he was sure she had, he nodded and walked into their bedroom.

  Shelby followed him down the hall and watched as he began filling a duffel bag with his clothes.

  “You're leaving?” she asked. “You're just going to go? Just like that?”

  “I told you, I want a divorce.”

  “Talk to me, Andrew,” she begged, unsure whether to cry or scream or be kind. “Tell me what you're thinking!”

  He never did. Andrew lived by the cowboy code, and the cowboy code dictated that you were a man. And men don’t talk about their feelings.

  There were positive parts of this code, of course. She always felt safe and protected around Andrew. He never let on if he was worried and she always knew that they would be okay.

  Until that moment.

  “I can tell you what I'm feeling,” she said, raising a hand over her head and bursting into tears. “I feel alone. Ever since Powell died, I feel alone. I feel like you and everyone else in the world has moved on, and I'm the only one who remembers that three months ago, we had a baby.”

  “You want me to talk?” he asked, furiously throwing a shirt into the bag before turning to her, his eyes angry and far away. “Alright, how’s this?” he seethed. “I can't stand being around you anymore. Being with you is like living in a time warp of the worst day of my life,” he cursed. “It's unbearable.”

  Shelby felt the tears spill down her cheeks, but she didn’t register the sadness she felt. She didn’t feel anything.

  “It's unbearable?” she repeated, both taken aback and offended by the comment.

  “Unbearable,” he repeated with emphasis. “I can't take all these details. I remember Powell, of course I do. But I don't need to remember every little thing about him, Shell. I don't need to know that his face was blue or recount the way he looked when you found him dead. I don't need to relive you screaming in my ear when I answered the phone at work. It makes me sick.”

  She cried then, hard. “Where are you going to go?”

  “Harper’s,” he said, resuming his packing.

  “Harper, as in Matilda Harper?” she winced. “From the ranch?”

  Andrew didn’t look at her. “As in that Harper, yes.”

  For the first time in months, Shelby felt something other than guilt. Her whole body lit up with goosebumps as though an unseen chill had washed over her.

  “Are you sleeping with her?” she asked so softly, she didn’t know if Andrew even heard her.

  He went stiff-backed. He gripped a pair of soft joggers in his fist and turned his profile to her, no longer willing to make eye-contact.

  “Yes,” he said.

  He made a mistake, she forced herself to think. We can fix this. We can fix everything that’s broken.

  “For how long?” she tried to ask calmly.

  “Since...that night.”

  Her calm faded from her and she finally felt the fury swarm over her body. She could feel her heart suddenly pulsing through her chest. “That night?” she repeated, walking closer to him as the realization kicked in. “That night...that night?” she kept repeating, getting angrier each time she said the words. She smacked him on the arm until he finally met her eyes, and she seethed, “The night our son died, you slept with another woman?”

  Andrew looked stricken. He looked down, then quickly found her eyes. The guilt on him was overwhelming.

  “When? Why?” she asked in quick succession.

  “When I went to get your mom’s overnight bag,” he said lowly.

  She set her jaw. “Why?” she repeated, her tone harsher.

  He swallowed hard. “I just ne
eded to feel something else.”

  She screamed at him then. Shelby had never been a violent person in her life, but she had smacked him so hard, she felt her palm sting for days. She slapped his cheek and beat him on the chest in a heap of sobs until he grabbed her hands and forced her into his arms.

  The truth was, she believed she deserved that. She deserved to be left by the person she loved—the person she needed the most. He had trusted her with their most precious possession, and she had failed him.

  She just wished it didn’t hurt so much.

  “You blame me, don't you, Andrew?” she had asked later than night, and he seemed surprised by the question.

  “That's the thing, Shell,” he said. “I don't talk because you don't listen.”

  Shelby had been wild ever since that night. It was just a couple of months, and she felt completely rootless.

  She had no more son. She was no longer a mother.

  She had no husband. She was no longer a wife.

  They’d taken a second mortgage out on her bungalow so Andrew could invest it in the ranch. Now she had no way to pay it off.

  Her whole life fell apart.

  As much as she felt she deserved Andrew’s cold shoulder at the time, her feelings on the matter had soon become torn. She didn’t know how someone who claimed to love her could abandon her when she needed him so badly.

  The buzzing of Shelby’s cellphone shook her out of her memories, and she snapped back to attention. She grabbed the device off the nightstand and saw that it was Colt calling. She answered, and he said, “Hey, I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

  “No, actually,” she said, wide-awake. “Is everything okay?”

  “I was wondering,” Colt began awkwardly, and she could hear Eleanor screeching in the background.

  “Look,” he said, exhaling his pride. “I know you get nights off, but Eleanor is crying, and I can't get her to stop. And I don't want you to think this is me, bumbling dad, unable to take care of my daughter, or that I called you the second she started to cry. This has been going on six hours now, nonstop. I've tried feeding her, changing her, I've had a doctor on call, and he said she's fine. She just won't stop and you're so good with her—”