Page 18 of Untamed Heart
Arriving outside the motel, I made it up the steps and pushed open the door, turning to look back down the street. He was still there, hand moving to pinch the brim of his hat, then dipping it to me before he moved off, heading back towards the bar.
The night passed fitfully, sleep evading me despite the bone-crushing tiredness, my body clinging toUKtime despite the whiskey, replaying the feel of the cowboy against me over and over.
So when I finally awoke the next day, bright sun streaming into the room, it was with no huge surprise that I saw it was almost 2 p.m. Groaning at my throbbing head, I took a moment before turning over and grabbing the phone to call reception. I booked the room out for a few more hours, wincing at the additional cost but grateful they weren’t fully booked. The thought of having to get up, pack and check out in the next ten minutes was unbearable.
Slowly I pulled myself together, careful to think of nothing except the mundane tasks ahead. A long shower, several painkillers, and a large coffee and sandwich delivered to the room eventually gave me the courage to call Lil again.
The answerphone picked up once more and I sighed. Nothing for it.
Eventually checking out, I dragged my roll-on bag down the street and headed into the first clothes shop I could find, emerging some time later with boots, jeans, shirts and a warm coat. The only thing I couldn’t decide on was a hat, but I reasoned that if Lil wasn’t keen on me staying, there might not be any point in getting one anyway.
The jeans hugged my ass and thighs, flaring in a subtle bootcut, the tan boots poking out from underneath. A deep blue plaid shirt, tucked in, with a tan belt and low-key silver buckle finished it all off. Somehow it didn’t look stupid. In fact, it made my previous outfit seem like the imposter.
I called a taxi and waited in the town square for it to arrive, wondering if Lil and I still looked alike. Despite our hair-colour difference, Lil and I shared our mums’ freckles, wide blue eyes and heart-shaped face. We’d always been mistaken for sisters when I’d visited and as an only child, it’d been a nice fantasy to live, if only for a few weeks a year.
Finally, butterflies building and scattering as the taxi took us out of town, the vast expanse of sky opened up, with low wisps of cloud burnt orange by the waning sun. The vast Teton Range towered in every direction, surrounded on all sides by grass and trees and space.
Pulling off the main road, the side road growing rougher and steeper with every second, we passed under a tall wooden arch, the ‘Diamond Back’ name carved into a plank at the top. As we wound up and up, the spruce trees thickened on both sides until they suddenly stopped on the right, revealing a view over the valley, the main ranch house straight ahead.
Two people stood near the main door, both turning towards us. Even at this distance I could see the confusion, their faces shielded under cowboy hats, one dark brown, one black.
‘Here’s fine,’ I said as the driver pulled to a stop a short distance from them. I knew Lil was on the left, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to look yet, though the heavy tint of the windows concealed my identity from her.
I took one last steadying breath and opened the taxi door, swinging my bags down first and following with a thud in my new boots. As I looked up, Lil’s eyes found mine, forming wide blue saucers, her hand lifting to cover her mouth. The blond cowboy next to her looked between us from under the brim of his black hat.
‘Lottie?’ she whispered, her voice hoarse. ‘Is that—’
Not trusting my voice to hold, I launched myself into her instead, receiving a hug that threatened to crush every bone in my body.
‘Hey, Lil,’ I whispered as the taxi backed away.
Right as I turned into a sobbing wreck.
CHAPTER6
I was thirteen again. Summer stretched far, far ahead, responsibility and exams in the same category as the horizon. Visible, but out of reach. Just a concept in the back of my mind, nothing to worry about, not yet.
But Lil . . . I worried about her. The atmosphere was strange this time – I’d noticed it as soon as we arrived: clear strain on Aunt Carrie’s face, Uncle John nowhere in sight.
‘There’s something going on,’ Lil had whispered as we snuck into her room and closed the door, my heart leaping despite the concern. The exposed logs of the ranch house, a rich conker-brown, dominated the room. Despite the touches applied by any teenager – posters, clothes strewn haphazardly, make-up and jewellery randomly dotting most surfaces – it was undeniably western. From the carved wooden bedframe to the intricate, colourful patterns on the Shoshone-made quilt and the building collection of cowboy hats, in my mind, we could only be in Wyoming. ‘They’ve been arguing non-stop. I think they’re getting a divorce.’
It was the only time I’d really seen her cry. There was a pinched tiredness around her eyes, and her freckles were dulled in her wan complexion. We held each other on the edge of her bed, me trying to find any words to make a salve. None came.
Instead, all I could think of was how it might affect our trips out here, realizing just how much I needed and looked forward to them. Lil was my de facto older sister, and this ranch a safe place, away from the demands of home.
Now, the selfish nature of those long-ago thoughts curdled in my gut. My conscience forced me awake, rapping on the side of my head for attention.
Groaning, I blinked at the sunlight streaming through the thin curtains, a few confused seconds of trying to figure out where the hell I was. Then, like a dam lifting, the events of yesterday rushed through my mind.
There had been a lot of crying, mine this time, with Lil holding my hand throughout as we sat at the heirloom kitchen table together, knees bumping. I gripped steaming coffee in my free hand as my stilted explanations and recounted events of the last few days pooled in the space between us.
Lil had sworn on my behalf, cursed Kyle to the pits of hell and back and most importantly, thankfully, had absolutely backed my spur-of-the-moment decision to visit.
Still, my conscience pricked, guilt needling me at Lil being there for me in a way I hadn’t been for her. At us losing touch at the worst time of her life.
Wait . . . was someone knocking on my door?
Startled, I sat up. The knocking sound filtering through the edges of my reverie wasn’t just my guilty conscience. Someone was making a total racket, near my window.
