scuffed. She was tall, slim, with short blond hair and brilliant blue eyes.
And she had every right to be angry.
He slowed a little, because maybe this wasn’t a hornet’s nest he wanted to walk into. It was going to get worse when she found out who was in the house waiting for her. She leaned back against the barn, the wind lifting her hair, blowing it around her face.
“Did you forget how to use a phone?” Yep, she was mad. Her voice was a little softer, a little huskier than normal.
“Nope. I just thought I’d give you a few weeks to get over being mad at me,” he said.
“I wouldn’t have been mad if you had left a note, called, maybe met up with me somewhere.”
“I know.” He cracked his knuckles and she glared. He took that to mean she wanted more than an easy answer. “I’m not good at relationships.”
Understatement. And it was an explanation she didn’t need from him. His parents had spent his childhood fighting, drinking and socializing. The ranch here in Dawson had saved him. At least he’d had horses to keep him busy and out from under their feet.
Away from his parents had usually been the best, safest bet for a kid.
He’d had Andie to run with and Etta’s house as a safe haven. Right at that moment Andie looked anything but safe. Standing there with her arms wrapped around herself, hugging her middle tight, she looked angry, sad, and about a dozen other female emotions he didn’t want to put a name on.
“Relationship? This isn’t a relationship, Ryder. This is us. We were friends.”
“Oh, come on, we’re still friends.” He slipped an arm around her shoulder and she slid out of the embrace. “We’ll go out tomorrow, maybe drive into Tulsa. It’ll be like old times.”
“Nope.” She walked quickly toward the house. He kept up.
So, the rumors were true. “This is about church, isn’t it?”
She stopped abruptly and turned. “No, it isn’t about church. You think that going to church would make me mad at you? Don’t be an idiot.”
“Well isn’t that what people do when they feel guilty?” He winked. “They get right with God?”
“Shut up, Ryder.”
She took off again, arms swinging, boots stomping on the dry grass.
“We’ve been friends forever.”
“Right.” She stopped and when she glanced up, before she could shake the look, he thought she looked hurt.
The way she’d looked hurt when he’d turned eleven and she’d been about ten, but not quite. He’d had a bunch of boys over and she hadn’t been invited. He’d told her it was a guys-only party and she’d wanted to be one of the guys, because she was his best friend.
Now he realized that best friends shouldn’t be easy to hold or feel soft in a guy’s arms. Or at least he thought that was the case. He didn’t want to lose someone who had always been there for him. He didn’t want to turn her into his mom.
He sure didn’t want to be his dad.
He wanted them to stay the way they were, having fun and hanging out. Not growing up, growing angry, growing apart. He didn’t want to think about how selfish that sounded, keeping her in his life that way.
“Andie, I didn’t plan for this to mess up our friendship.”
“Neither of us planned for that. And this isn’t about…” She looked away. “This is about you not calling me back.”
“Because I didn’t know what to say.”
“Ryder, you’re almost thirty and I’ve heard you talk to women. You always know what to say.” She looked down, shuffling her feet in the dusty driveway. “But you didn’t know what to say to me?”
“I’m sorry.” He hadn’t known what to say and he still didn’t. With other women, he just said what felt right at the moment. And man, he’d had a lot of nasty messages on his answering machine over the years, because he’d said what felt right, not what mattered.
“You don’t have to apologize. We’re both responsible.”
“I know, but we made a promise. I made a promise.” A promise to keep boundaries between them. “I don’t know what else to say, except I’m sorry.”
“You should have called.” She had shoved her hands in her front pockets and she stared up at him, forcing his thoughts back to that. That night in Phoenix he’d found her standing behind her trailer, crying because she’d been rejected by her mother. He’d never seen her like that, hurt that way.
He shook his head, chasing off memories that were more than likely going to get him in trouble again.
“Come on, Andie, give me a break. You know me better than anyone. You know that I’m not good at this. You know that we were both there. We both…”
“Stop. I don’t want to talk about what we both did. I want to talk to you about us.”
Heat crawled up his neck, into his face. “Andie, you sound like a woman.”
“I am a woman.”
“No.” He took off his hat and swiped a hand through his hair. “No, you’re not. You’re my best friend. You’re my roping buddy. You’re not like other women. You’ve never been like other women, getting all caught up in the dating thing and romance.”
“I’m still not caught up in those things.”
“No, now you’re caught up in religion.”
“I’m not caught up in anything. This is about faith. And to be honest, I really needed some.” She looked away.
“Whatever. I’m just saying, this isn’t you.”
“It’s me. But for a lot of years, I’ve been trying to be who you wanted me to be. I’ve done a lot of things to make you feel better about being angry.” Her voice was soft and sweet, reminding him of how easy it had been to kiss her. Maybe things had changed—more than he’d realized. Being on the road he’d been able to fool himself into believing that they could go right back to being who they’d always been.
“Go to supper with me at the Mad Cow. I’ll buy you a piece of pecan pie.” He nudged her shoulder and she nodded. He thought she might say yes.
But then she shook her head. “I’m tired. It was a long trip.”
“Yeah, I guess it was. Maybe tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow’s Sunday.”
“And you’re going to church?”
“Yeah, Ryder, I’m going to church.”
“Fine, I’ve got to get home and get things cleaned up before Wyatt gets here.”
“Wyatt’s coming?”
Ryder pulled his keys out of his pocket. This was something she would have known, before. He would have called her to talk it over with her, to get her opinion. He guessed that was a pretty good clue that he’d been avoiding her, and telling himself a whole pack of lies.
Number one being that nothing had changed.
“Yeah, he’s coming home.”
And Ryder didn’t know how it would work, with him, Wyatt and two little girls all in one big, messy house. The girls needed to be here, though. Ryder knew that. He knew his brother was falling apart without Wendy. Wyatt was caving under the guilt of his wife’s death. A year, and he was still falling apart.
“If you need anything.” Andie’s voice was gentle, so was her hand on his arm.
“Yeah, I know