arrived to join them. Wasn’t she supposed to be at work?
For a moment, he and Cassidy simply stared at each other. Once, they’d been inseparable. Then, their parents divorced, and sides were declared. Ryder had chosen their father’s, Cassidy their mother’s. Growing apart from her was another of his regrets.
He made the first move and opened his arms. She stepped into his embrace, and Ryder swore everyone in the room visibly relaxed.
The hug ended too soon. “Mom,” Cassidy said, “I hope you don’t mind, I asked Tatum to lunch. She didn’t get a chance to eat. Too busy taking care of Cupcake.”
“Of course not.”
Tatum smiled apologetically. “I hate imposing on your reunion.”
“Nonsense. You’re like family.”
For someone considered to be like family, Tatum looked ready to bolt. Ryder found that interesting. Then again, he found a lot of things about her interesting. Good thing that, as a Beckett employee, she was off-limits.
With everyone pitching in, lunch was soon on the table. Liberty had inherited their father’s conversational abilities, and between the two of them, there were no more lulls.
That was, until Cassidy said, “Tatum mentioned you two didn’t recognize each other.”
“It’s true,” Ryder admitted.
Tatum echoed his earlier remark. “It’s been a while. We’ve both changed.”
“Do you forget all the women you kiss?” Cassidy asked, a teasing lilt to her voice. “Or just the first one?”
“Kiss?” He had forgotten.
In a rush, it all came back to him. The Valentine’s Day card. Tatum’s desperate look of hope. The casual peck on the cheek he’d given her.
“I’d have bet money you wouldn’t remember,” Cassidy said.
An undefinable emotion filled Tatum’s eyes before she averted her glance. Something told Ryder this had been some sort of test and that he’d failed it.
It took a full five minutes for Tatum’s cheeks to cool. How could Cassidy embarrass her like that? They were best friends. Lifelong best friends.
Worse than embarrassing her, Cassidy had intentionally used that long ago chaste kiss—Tatum had been just twelve and Ryder nearly fourteen—to deliver a dig to her brother. Tatum neither wanted to nor deserved to be dragged into any feud between the siblings.
And, seriously, wasn’t it past time they let bygones be bygones? Mercer was sober. He and Sunny were working together running the arena and getting along. For the most part. Business was booming. Liberty had forgiven her mother’s duplicity and was making up for lost years with Mercer by spending time with him. Ryder had come home. Cassidy alone refused to let go of the past.
Tatum’s anger continued to simmer all during the lunch. Cassidy should be glad her brother had returned. For her mother’s sake, if nothing else. Sunny had hated losing Ryder and longed for a reconciliation with him since the day he left to live with Mercer. As a mother herself, Tatum sympathized. She’d been separated only briefly from her children this past spring, yet it had been the worst four months of her life.
Cassidy was also a mother, though Benjie’s father had never been in the picture. Ever. She didn’t have to share her child with an ex or contend with a former, impossible to please, mother-in-law. Tatum sighed. Lucky Cassidy.
“Dad, maybe after lunch you can take a look at Tatum’s pony.”
Her head shot up at hearing Ryder speak her name.
“What’s wrong with Cupcake?” Mercer asked, shoveling a large bite of chili into his mouth.
Tatum swallowed before answering. “I, um, thought she might have foundered. Ryder says her limp’s due to a poorly fitted shoe.”
“One way to find out is remove the shoe.”
“He...already did that.” What was wrong with her? She couldn’t string a simple sentence together without tripping over her words.
Her glance strayed to Ryder, the cause of her unease, though, why, she had no idea. He meant nothing to her, outside of being the recipient of her one-sided childhood crush. The kiss—peck, she corrected herself—while important to her, had meant little to him. She’d presented him with a homemade Valentine’s Day card that she’d labored over for days. He read it, then dipped his head and brushed her cheek with his lips. The next week, he’d left to live with Mercer in Kingman, dashing her fragile hopes and dreams.
Over the years, the memory of her first crush changed, from painful to one she viewed with mild amusement and even fondness. Too bad Cassidy had to go and tarnish that for her.
“Is the foot warm?” Mercer asked, still talking about Cupcake.
“No,” Ryder replied before Tatum could.
Not that she’d have known if the foot was warm or not. She hadn’t checked. Running into Ryder had distracted her.
“Then she probably isn’t foundered.” Mercer scraped the last of the chili from his bowl. “Ryder has a good eye when it comes to horses.”
“I’m sure she’ll be fine.” Tatum wished the conversation would shift from her to something else. Like Liberty and Deacon’s upcoming wedding.
“Where is she?”
“Cupcake? I moved her to the horse barn. In that empty stall next to the gray Percheron.”
“I’ll take a look at feeding time.” Mercer patted his stomach as if to settle his meal.
Tatum felt Ryder’s gaze on her and struggled to ignore him. It was impossible. The green-gray color of his eyes was unlike any she’d seen, made more prominent by his strong, masculine features and short cropped brown hair.
To her chagrin, her heart gave a little flutter in return. Good grief. Surely she couldn’t be attracted to him. He wasn’t her type. More than that, he could well be after her job.
Hoping to hide her reaction, she said, “Thank you, Mercer. From me and my kids. You know how they love Cupcake.”
“How old are they?” Ryder’s mouth curved at the corners into a devastatingly charming smile.
Tatum responded by blushing. And all because Cassidy had made Tatum acutely aware of Ryder by mentioning that stupid kiss. When they finished with lunch she was going to give her best friend a well-deserved piece of her mind.
“My daughter’s seven, and the boys are four and two.”
“Are they in school with Benjie?”
“My daughter is, though not in the same grade. The boys attend day care while I work.”
It had been difficult finding reliable and reasonably priced child care in such a small town. The Becketts paid Tatum a fair, even generous, wage. Still, a large chunk of her income went to cover the costs of day care. And rent and food. Making ends meet was a delicate balance. Luckily, her ex paid his child support on time and carried the children as dependents on his health insurance.
If for any reason, that ceased, Tatum would be back to where she was earlier this year. Unable to provide her children with the most basic necessities and at risk of losing them.
The Becketts hadn’t just given her a job when Tatum was laid off, they’d saved her family. Her loyalty to them was deep and abiding.
“Tatum’s a teacher,” Liberty said.
“Was,” Tatum corrected.
“You teach art classes.”
“Really?”