evening as her friend ushered her into Silas Decker’s huge house. Zack’s father bred and trained cutting horses, turning over more of the management of the Rocky D ranch to Jenny every year.
When Jenny was a teenager, she’d come to live and work at the Rocky D. But to Silas she’d come to be much more than an employee. She was the daughter he’d never had.
“If Silas is introducing Clay to friends who want a fishing guide, I don’t want to intrude.” The more she thought about seeing Clay again, the more nervous she’d become.
Jenny was having none of that. “He’s doing that, but we’re watching Zack’s new movie, too. You’re my friend, and I want you here. As I told you on the phone, Silas is trying to fix me up again. I don’t want to be fixed up. I’m happy here doing what I’m doing, and doing it without worrying about what some man’s going to think of me.”
Celeste thought Jenny was protesting a little too much. She wondered again about the argument she’d had with Zack the night of the reunion. She hadn’t wanted to talk about it. They’d been quite an item their senior year, and from their angry parting, there still seemed to be some heat between them.
“Did you hear from Zack after the reunion?”
A mutinous expression flamed on Jenny’s face. “I don’t want to hear from Zack, not unless he’s telling me he’s coming home to figure out how to lessen the load on his dad.”
“Is there a problem?”
Jenny didn’t respond for a few moments, as if considering the facts, and whether she should or shouldn’t say anything about them. “I’ve seen some changes in the last couple of months. Silas’s energy’s definitely lower. He needs to rest more. He doesn’t have the verve he used to when he’s working in the barns. And with the book work, he could care less. He used to be on top of all of it. I asked him to consider going to the doctor for a checkup, but he said he’s fine. My instincts are telling me something’s going on.”
“What does Zack think?”
“He thinks I’m overreacting. But he was here less than twenty-four hours. How could he tell?”
“That’s why you argued?”
“Yes. And now I’m going to forget about it and just keep pushing Silas to see his physician.” She let out a deep breath. “So tell me what’s happening with you and Clay and Abby.”
Celeste felt warmth creep up her neck, and Jenny noticed.
“Well?” she asked, one hand on her hip, slightly wrinkling her coral sheath, her blond head cocked, her brown eyes penetrating.
“I saw Abby last Sunday and again on Monday when Clay was there. Then I visited again yesterday and he wasn’t there. His mother was.”
“How did that go?”
“It went okay, actually. His mom doesn’t seem to know what to think of me, though. She expects me to be flighty … like Zoie.”
Jenny brought a finger to her chin, then gave a slight nod as if she’d settled something with herself. “I never told you, but I saw Zoie once with Abby when she was about six months old. She had her in a grocery cart, pushing her around the store. The thing was—she didn’t pay much attention to her. When Abby fussed, she just let her fuss and kept shopping as if nothing was happening. This was one time and it might not have meant anything at all. She might have been tired. Maybe Abby had been fussing all day. But I wondered if that was the way she treated her all the time. It was none of my business, so I kept out of it. But I wondered.”
“If you had told me, I would have come back sooner.”
“And then what?”
Wasn’t that a loaded question? Would she have barged into Zoie and Clay’s life, claimed her daughter wasn’t getting the attention and love she needed? Wasn’t that why she’d chosen to make a life for herself in Phoenix, so she wouldn’t interfere, wouldn’t see, wouldn’t be involved?
“Come on,” Jenny said, hooking her arm in Celeste’s. “Let’s join the party. Silas’s out-of-town friends heard about Clay and his tours and wanted to meet him in person. Silas also invited Jesse Vargas, Brody Hazlett and his dad, so you won’t be stuck in a room with Clay all night. Besides, I need a little girl company.”
Jenny led Celeste across the marble foyer, through a covered archway that opened into a high-ceilinged living room with a Remington on the wall, cowhide rugs and a suede and leather sofa long enough for a giant.
“Everyone’s in Silas’s parlor. Martha’s serving appetizers and drinks. You’re the last to arrive.”
Great, Celeste thought. That meant everyone would notice her when they walked in. She reminded herself she was no longer a shy teenager who preferred back corners to dancing under the spotlight. Holding her head high, she straightened to her full height, glad she’d worn heels instead of sandals, glad her teal dress, which had been an alternate choice for the reunion, had been a recent purchase before her trip here.
Celeste felt as if she should knock on the mahogany French doors that led into the parlor, but Jenny didn’t hesitate to grab a glass knob and open one of them. For a few moments, masculine voices circled around the group in the center of the room. Celeste recognized one deep baritone right away, but she kept her gaze from swinging to Clay. Instead she focused on the man at the center of the circle. He’d lost most of his gray hair, but his gray-black mustache seemed as thick as ever. The multitude of lines on his face attested to the fact that he’d aged since Celeste had seen him last.
“He has changed,” Celeste whispered to Jenny.
“In a lot of ways. Most of all, I think he’s just sad that he and Zack can’t talk.”
After only a few moments of hesitation, Celeste decided. “We might as well dive right in.” She tried to come up with a genuine smile.
“You’ve changed, too,” Jenny muttered as side by side they approached the closed group.
All of a sudden, one of the men Celeste didn’t know gave a low whistle and slapped Silas Decker on the back. “Where have you been keeping these two lovely ladies?”
Silas shrugged off the thirty-something man’s hand and turned to greet them. “Jenny, I’m so glad you invited Celeste.” He held her hand and then kissed the top of it lightly. “You’ve grown into quite a beauty.”
“Thank you. I don’t want to interrupt your conversation.”
“As usual, we were talking horses. Clay was trying to explain to us why he picks the ones he does when he goes on trail rides. You were always a good picker, too, when you and Jenny convinced me to let you ride up to Moonshadow or out to Feather Peak. How do you choose?”
“It’s not very scientific,” she joked. “I look into his eyes, see if he likes my touch or pulls away from it. I give him a few ground commands and see how well he obeys. Then I take him for a little walk to get a feel for rhythm and companionability.”
Several men cleared their throats. Brody, a veterinarian like his dad, asked, “You don’t listen to recommendations from others?”
“I’ve learned recommendations from others don’t go very far if the horse and I don’t understand the same language.”
“Do you pick your dates that way?” Silas joked.
Unoffended, she shot back, “Maybe I should.”
The majority of the group laughed, but with one glance at Clay, she could see he wasn’t one of them. Even with that quick meeting of their eyes, she could still feel the desire from their kiss, the unusual undercurrent that made her body buzz, the still burned-on sensual taste of his lips on hers.
“Remember me?” a handsome, smartly dressed man asked. “I was a year ahead of you in high school.”
Jenny