Caitlin was never much of a horse enthusiast, though she’d tried her best to share that interest with Ethan. When they did go on a ride, Chico was her mount of choice.
“He’s Isa’s horse now.”
“Isa?”
“Sage’s daughter. Gavin’s soon-to-be stepdaughter. She’s six and in love with this old guy.”
“I’m glad.” Glad the horse Caitlin remembered with such fondness was adored by a little girl and that some things around Powell Ranch hadn’t changed.
“Do you still ride?”
“No, not since Chico.” She didn’t want to admit to Ethan how much riding—or any physical activity that held risk—scared her. She hadn’t been like that before Justin’s accident. Quite the opposite.
“I’ll take you sometime.” Ethan moved closer.
Caitlin’s guard instantly went up. She continued stroking Chico’s nose in an attempt to disguise her nervousness—at Ethan’s proximity and the prospect of getting on a horse again. “We should probably take a look at the wagon. I have to get to the clinic soon.”
They left the stables. Chico, Ethan assured Caitlin, would be just fine tied to the hitching rail, and was probably already napping.
As they rounded the corner of the cattle barn, she noticed lumber stacked nearby, along with a table saw, ladder and toolboxes.
“What are you building?”
“We’re converting the old barn into a mare motel for the stud and breeding business. Clay and his men are helping us.”
Ethan took her elbow and guided her around more piles of construction material. She started to object and insist she was fine, then changed her mind. Like the other night when he’d insisted on unloading her medical supplies, it would be like arguing with a brick wall.
He led her to a corner of the barn where, behind a tower of wooden crates and beneath a canvas tarp, the wagon stood.
“Not sure we can get much closer,” he said, stepping over a roll of rusted chicken wire.
Caitlin squeezed in behind him, acutely aware of his tall, broad frame mere inches from her.
He leaned over and lifted the tarp, revealing a wagon wheel. Without thinking, she reached out and touched the worn wood.
A memory of Ethan driving her around the ranch in the wagon suddenly surfaced, of her bouncing in the seat beside him and both of them laughing. How carefree they’d been back then.
She suddenly missed those days with a longing she hadn’t felt in years.
Stop it!
Dwelling on that period of her life would do more damage than good. She and Ethan might have renewed their acquaintance, but that was all it was, an acquaintance. All it could be. Even if she finally got past the hurt he’d caused her, he rode saddle broncs for pleasure and broke green horses for a living. Caitlin wasn’t capable of caring for someone who courted danger on a daily basis. Not after what had happened to her brother. She couldn’t live with the constant worry and fear.
“Going to need a few repairs.” Ethan wiggled a loose spoke.
Caitlin was relieved to get back on track. “And lots of cleaning.”
“Hope you have enough volunteers.”
She studied the wagon with a critical eye. “I might need more.”
“I’ve been thinking. Would it be all right if we asked for a small donation? Completely voluntary, of course. Sage, my future sister-in-law, is starting a wild-mustang sanctuary here on the ranch, and she’s having trouble obtaining funding.”
“What a good idea. I can’t imagine the festival committee having any objections.”
“That’ll make her happy.”
Caitlin brushed dirt off the wheel. “When can we get started?”
“Saturday soon enough?”
“We’ll have to be here early. I’m due at Clay’s arena after lunch.”
“Me, too.”
“You’re not riding!”
“Planning on it.”
“Your shoulder!”
“I can’t afford to miss any practices.”
“Isn’t it dangerous to ride with an injury? I’d think your reaction time would be slowed.”
“I’ll wrap it.”
As if that would fix everything. His attitude was exactly the reason they would never date again, no matter how attractive she found him. Riding broncs was bad enough. Riding broncs with an injury was idiotic.
“I’ll have a couple of the guys help me pull the wagon out,” he said.
“I recommend you supervise a couple of the guys.” She leveled a finger at him. “If you’re going to ride on Saturday, you need to rest that shoulder and let it heal.”
“Right.”
He was impossible.
“I need to get going.” She stepped over the roll of rusted chicken wire. “I don’t want to leave Justin alone too long.”
“You brought him with you?”
“He doesn’t have class on Fridays and sometimes comes by for a visit.”
“Justin drives?”
“A Honda Civic. Modified, of course.”
“And he lives with your parents?”
“No, he has an apartment near campus with a roommate.”
“Not that it’s any of my business,” Ethan said, “but if the kid lives on his own and drives, don’t you think he’ll be okay alone for a few minutes?”
She sighed with exasperation…at herself. “I can’t help worrying about him. Call it big-sister-itis.”
“His accident wasn’t your fault.”
Caitlin went still, swallowed a gasp. No one other than Justin and her parents knew of her guilt and the reason for it.
How in the world had Ethan guessed?
Stupid question. He’d always been able to read her better than anyone.
She averted her face, hiding the sudden storm of emotions churning inside her. Him, this place, the memories of happier times—it was all too much.
Ethan took her elbow again, helping her navigate the narrow path through the construction material. His fingers were warm and strong and far too familiar. Any hope Caitlin had for control flew out the window.
“You weren’t at the river that day,” he said, his voice gentle with understanding. “You couldn’t possibly have been involved.”
His compassion and sympathy were her undoing.
“I encouraged him to go,” she admitted, her throat burning. “If he had stayed home, he wouldn’t have landed on that rock and damaged his spinal cord.”
“Come on. Name one senior at our school who didn’t tube down the river and jump from the cliffs the week after graduation. It was a rite of passage.”
“Justin didn’t normally disobey our parents.” As she had, she thought. “I told him he was eighteen and it was time he stopped acting like such a geek. I drove him to his friend’s house, then lied to our folks about where he was going.”
“Teenagers disobey their parents. It’s