The Cowboy Who Got Away. Nancy Thompson Robards

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СКАЧАТЬ there are few things I hate more than wheeler dealers,” Jude said.

      “Of course,” Juliette said.

      They walked in silence back the way they came. Juliette focused on the unchanged beauty of the place and tried not to wonder whether or not he’d ask Afton to look for another buyer. The lush green grass, the smattering of trees, the big live oak on the other side of the cabin, where they used to seek shade on hot summer days. It was like reuniting with an old friend or time traveling. If she squinted her eyes and blocked out everything else—especially the voices in her head—she was transported back to a much simpler time, when she and Jude were in love and their only worry had been not attracting the sheriff when they lit a bonfire on a cold fall night.

      “Are you seeing anyone?” he asked out of the blue, breaking the silence.

      The non sequitur made her breath catch. Really, the question shouldn’t have been so surprising. It was an obvious question that old friends would ask each other. Although, they might start with the less important and build up to this. But, hey, leave it to Jude to take the leap.

      “Who wants to know?” She raised her brows at him, trying to lighten the mood.

      “I want to know, Jules.”

      “In this moment, I’m seeing you,” she said, “walking next to me. That’s all that matters.”

      He nodded. “Then I’ll take that as a no, that you’re not otherwise involved with anyone.”

      She put her hands on her hips. “What about you? Do you have someone special or is it just the Saturday night special...an endless line of Aftons?”

      Okay, that was corny. She was trying to be funny, but obviously funny wasn’t her thing.

      “No, there’s no one special in my life right now. And for the record, I don’t have time for Saturday night specials, as you put it. What does that even mean?”

      Juliette shrugged. “Random women. You know, a different Afton every Saturday night.”

      “Most Saturday nights I’m at a competition and by the time I’m done—after I’ve been tossed around, thrown and sometimes kicked or stepped on—this body is not always in the mood for a Saturday night special.”

      Juliette smiled. “That’s good to know. I mean, it’s not good that you get thrown and stepped on.” She grimaced. “You know that’s why I always had a hard time watching you compete. I couldn’t stand to see you get hurt. You know, come to think of it, you never answered my question. What are you doing back in Celebration when there’s still a month left on the tour? I know you said you were home to check out the property, but that doesn’t take two weeks. In two weeks it will be time for the world championship. What’s going on, Jude?”

      He stiffened and crossed his arms over his chest. Defensive body language. But Juliette was determined not to speak first, because if she did it might give him an out—he might latch onto it and change the subject.

      His gaze met hers. She raised her brows.

      “I ran into some trouble. I got thrown a little too hard in a couple of matches and I had to sit out the next ones.”

      “Oh, no. Are you okay?”

      Jude tore his gaze away from hers. He kicked at the dirt with the toe of his boot, as if giving himself more time to form his words.

      “I suffered a couple of concussions. I couldn’t ride because of it. Now I don’t have enough points to qualify for the world championship.” He cursed under his breath. “How about that? I’m the reigning world champion and I won’t even be able to defend my title.”

      He laughed, but it was a dry and brittle sound.

      She resisted the urge to hug him. “Jude, I’m proud of you for doing the right thing. Your health—your well-being—is so much more important than a competition.”

      His face fell. “It’s my livelihood, Jules. It’s not just a competition. It’s what I do. It’s what I’m good at. It’s who I am.”

      “I get it, Jude. But if the doctor is telling you it’s not a good idea for you to take the risk and ride, if you go against doctor’s orders to do it, the repercussions could be...”

      She shuddered. She couldn’t bring herself to say the word—deadly. Even the thought of it made her heart hurt.

      Jude shrugged. The look on his face said he didn’t agree. They’d had this conversation about the risk of him getting hurt so many times when they were in high school—or at least variations of it.

      Having been away from him all these years, she hadn’t allowed herself to think about the reality of what he was doing every day, how he earned his living. The risk he faced every day. Sure, she’d kept up with him. She’d been happy to read about the results of his competitions. The internet was a beautiful thing in that regard. She loved seeing that he was doing well, seeing his steady climb to the top of his game. But reading the CliffsNotes also meant that she didn’t have to see him get thrown and come within centimeters of getting stomped.

      They’d always been at odds over this—for as far back as she could remember. And nothing had changed. It was best to change the subject.

      Their gazes found each other and locked in a silent truce.

      She could agree with that. She didn’t want to fight with him. Not on the first day seeing him after all these years. She wasn’t sure what his plans were. She had no idea if she was even going to get to see him very much while he was home. She realized in that moment that she wanted to. But still, they had this moment. Maybe that was all that mattered.

      When they got back to the truck, Jude walked to the tailgate, opened it and started peeling back the bed cover.

      “What are you doing?” she asked.

      “I need to get my things out of here,” he called over his shoulder.

      “What things?”

      “My suitcase. All the things I brought with me.”

      “So, you really haven’t been here yet?”

      “Nope. Just arriving.”

      That meant his first stop really had been to see her at the wedding barn. When he’d told Dottie that, she thought he would have at least stopped by the cabin and unpacked first.

      As he unloaded, Juliette walked over to the ancient tree near the cabin, the one they’d carved their initials into.

      “Remember this?” she said, tracing a finger over the words etched into the rough bark, time-weathered and darkened like a wound that had left a scar.

      Jude walked up behind her. “‘Jude and Juliette 4-ever.’” His voice sounded hoarse and throaty. “And here we are again.”

      He set down his bags, reached out and traced the words the same way she had. Then he covered her hand with his. She stood there for a moment memorizing the warmth of his hand on hers.

      “Jude.”

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