A Cowboy for the CEO

Chapter 19: Kiss Me Deadly

Ali had four missed calls and three increasingly disapproving voice mails from her mother by the time she checked her phone. In spite of the two-hour time difference, Grace answered her return call after one ring. Her father was blissfully snoring in the background. "Oh, thank heavens, darling. Why on earth haven't you been picking up?"

She stared at the starry sky through the car's window as it made its way back to the lodge. "Sorry, Mom. I was busy."

The line was momentarily silent before Grace spoke again. "What could they have you doing at that place this late at night?"

"I wasn't at Pebble Creek," she mumbled, knowing her mother would see through a lie.

Grace scoffed. "Well, where were you?"

Ali held back the first not-so-suitable answer that came to mind. She was nearly thirty years old and half a dozen states away, yet the woman still expected an answer. "Out," she said.

"With who?" Her mother's pitch elevated two levels with curiosity.

She sidestepped. "Why did you call, Mom? Is everything okay?" she asked, instead.

"Oh, everything's fine." Grace could switch gears faster than a race car driver. "Marco's going to be shooting at Fashion Week in Paris this year, isn't that wonderful?"

Ali rolled her eyes. Of course her mother would call just to gush about her favorite child. What she always failed to mention was how her younger brother went through women faster than a gallon of milk, or how he'd lost his savings—twice—through questionable deals recommended by not-so-upright friends.

After dutifully hearing her mother out as she described whose connections led to which designer inviting Marco along, Ali ended the conversation, glad at least that the attention was off her.

Monday couldn't come fast enough, and she wondered how and when she'd get to meet up with Hank again. He usually wasn't around before noon, so she didn't expect to see him at least until after her next therapy session. So when she entered the stables the next day looking for Dr. Sacher and found the handsome cowboy going in and out of the stalls busily taking care of the horses, she was pleasantly surprised.

With his sleeves rolled up and jeans covered in hay dust, he distributed a wheelbarrow full of feed among the animals, pausing long enough to show them some individual attention. Although he had kept his word to stay discreet, she almost melted into a gooey puddle when he flashed her a friendly smile while giving a colt named Thunder a good scratching behind the ear.

After her meeting with Dr. Sacher on Friday, when the psychiatrist practically tricked her into admitting that she was a perfectionist, Ali was once again reluctant to share more about herself in therapy. But since their first session in the paddock had also ended disastrously, Ali wasn't sure whether Dr. Sacher's saddling a horse was going to turn out better than before. The woman slipped the final strap through its buckle and yanked it into place when Ali joined her, but as they began to lead the animal outside, a stall door creaked open.

"Hey, Doc," a congenial but authoritative voice called out. "Can I borrow Ali for a sec?"

"Sure, Hank." The therapist nodded. "I'll be out in the paddock when you're done."

He waited until the psychiatrist led the horse out before turning to Ali. "I wanted to talk to you."

"Okay," she whispered, feeling her heartbeat accelerate.

He tipped his hat back and scratched his forehead. "Um . . . about last night . . ."

Oh, god. He was going to say it was all a mistake and they should end things before they got any further. He'd probably realized she was more trouble than she was worth and regretted getting involved with her. She was nothing like him and would be going back to New York in a few weeks anyway, so why would he want to waste time on her now?