Page 57 of Any Cowboy of Mine
She pushed open a small, wrought iron gate and walked up a stone walkway to the front door, passing bushes that were still fragrant, even in the winter chill that typically killed off most of Montana’s vegetation. Fields and rolling hills sprawled from behind the house like a gigantic yellow blanket spread out for a picnic. She’d never seen a more beautiful landscape, such quintessential rural Montana that the city could never compete with. She understood with perfect clarity Brad’s desire to move there, to buy the farm, to write and work the land. It felt right, picturing his strong body walking the perimeter, sitting on the porch in the summers with a glass of lemonade, writing and working during the day, curling up in a rocker after the sun went down.
It was a life she could imagine for herself as well.
Sophie rang the doorbell and resisted the urge to knock as well. She’d gone this whole week thinking Brad was back together with Julia, and last night she hadn’t been given much time to appreciate all he’d told her before she was pulled out of the party by Drew. Not that she was complaining—she was grateful for the experience and thankful she could help Analise—but she wanted Brad. With every cell in her body, she wanted him as much as she wanted to practice law, as much as she wanted to help women get out of abusive relationships. She wanted him in every way she could have him, and she needed him to know that immediately.
From the back of the house, Sophie heard the clacking of heels headed for the front door. She cringed. Secretly, she’d been hoping to avoid Brad’s mom and talk to his adorable, effervescent father instead. Marge was the only barrier to her happiness.
The door opened and sure enough, Marge looked down her pointed nose at Sophie as if she’d hoped to avoid her as well—for the rest of her life.
“Hi, Mrs. Connors. I was hoping I could ask you a favor. Happy New Year, by the way. Did you and Alan have a good night?” She sounded like she was fifteen again, off topic and all over the damn place. This woman unnerved her.
“Jackie, is it?” That did it. It took seeing this woman for what she was capable of to bring Sophie back to reality and wake the lawyer inside her from her late morning nap. She had the unique opportunity to call Marge on the lie Brad claimed she’d spun at the hotel a week earlier.
“No, actually, Jackie is my roommate. I’m Sophie. I knew Brad in college, remember? I’m the one you told you hadn’t seen Brad the morning after Julia’s wedding, when it turns out you had.”
“Oh yes, the girl who stalked him while he was with Julia,” his mother said. “And I can’t remember what I told you. As soon as you left, I forgot about you instantly.” Her smile turned into more of a sneer. Sophie found none of this amusing. She had done something—Exist? Take Brad as a date to the wedding he was supposed to be the groom at?—that put her in this woman’s sights. But she wasn’t going to stay there.
“I don’t remember it the same way, ma’am.” Not at all the same, in fact. Sure, she’d had a crush on Brad all the way through college, but she’d dated other men, accepted her fate when Brad and Julia had only gotten more serious. In no way had shestalkedhim. In fact, she’d barely seen him outside of the two classes they’d had together. And Marge had most certainly not forgotten about Sophie that easily, evidenced by the way the woman still seemed hell bent on wiping her from the face of the earth.
“Yes, well, that doesn’t really matter now, does it? He’s at her house right now, helping her with a desk we gave her for her wedding. What exactly brings you here, dear?” Only this contemptible woman could make the word “dear” sound like it was laced with arsenic.
“I only wanted his phone number. I left my wedding shoes in his hotel room and would like to arrange to get them back.” Sophie said the first thing that came to her mind, not caring that it was far from the truth, just that it seemed like the only way she could wrestle the information she needed from formidable Marge. Plus, she got a secret rush of joy as Marge’s eyes and lips became slits and her arms crossed tight over her chest when Sophie mentioned being in his hotel room.
“I’m afraid I don’t think that’s very appropriate. Your presence in his life isn’t appreciated, and I’d like to ask that you refrain from contacting him further. I’ll make sure he gets your shoes to your roommate. Goodbye.” Marge shut the door on Sophie with such abruptness that the breeze blew back Sophie’s hair. She stood there, stunned.
Sophie didn’t want this to get the best of her, but she also didn’t really know how she and Brad could stand a chance if his mother was so hell bent on keeping him apart from anyone who wasn’t Julia. The worst part was, if what Brad and Drew told her was true, Julia had pretended to move on gracefully after the wedding, only to come back around and stab him in the back with a stop on any further publication of works that contained a likeness to her character.
The only one who couldn’t see how spiteful Julia and Chris were at this point was Marge. Now who was being inappropriate? She wished she had the guts to turn right around and tell that to Brad’s mom, but she was already halfway back to her car, and frankly, the farther she could get from Marge and her crappy attitude, the better.
She got out of the gate, turned around to latch it, and as she turned back, ran headlong into Alan, knocking herself backwards. She rubbed her sore backside that had landed hard on the one rock in the yard with her left cheek. Though he was shorter than both Brad and his mom, Alan was strong, the kind of strong that came from operating and managing a farm in the cold, often rugged, Montana landscape. Out here, he no longer looked like a jolly elf, but a competent ranch hand that knew his way around a farm.
“Well, my luck certainly improved today. What brings you here, pretty lady? And more importantly, why are you rushing outta here so fast? You start a fire I should know about?”
“Only in your wife, Alan, and for that, I apologize,” Sophie said, allowing Alan to help her up. She dusted off her jeans and smiled at Brad’s dad, who always managed to make her feel like she was welcome.
“Oh, don’t you worry one bit. Sophie, isn’t it?” Sophie nodded. At least he seemed to recall who she was. “She’s just in a funk of late, but I assure you she didn’t mean to take it out on you. How could anyone dislike such a charming lady such as yourself?”
Sophie giggled in spite of herself. The man could flirt, she gave him that much.
“While I appreciate you trying to make it better, Alan, I’m pretty sure she meant to take it out on me, specifically. I think getting in the way of Brad and Julia at her wedding was an unforgivable offense, so I should probably get out of here. Happy New Year, though. I really do wish you the best.”
Sophie moved to slide past Alan, but he put a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“Sophie, you let me handle my wife and son’s newly challenging relationship. But you make me a promise. You don’t let Marge keep you and Brad from seeing where you might wanna go together. From what I can tell, no one’s been able to make my son happier than you, and that’s all that matters to me. It’s what Marge cares about as well, she just forgot it’s up to him to decide what that looks like. Promise me you won’t give up just yet. Okey dokey?”
Kicking at a clump of dirt on the ground to avoid looking up at Alan with tears in her eyes, Sophie nodded. His big, strong arms wrapped around her and despite her herculean efforts to keep her emotions in check, a couple rogue tears spilled over onto his flannel shirt.
“You need anything from me, darlin’?” he asked, speaking softly into her hair.
Sophie nodded, pulling away and wiping at her eyes.
“Just his number, Alan,” she said, laughing at how ridiculous she sounded, having fallen in love with a man whose phone number she didn’t even have yet.
Alan joined her in a hearty laugh, and her heart started to warm after the frigid response from Marge.
“I’ll do you one better, love. He’s at the library right now. If you leave this minute, you can catch him on his lunch.”
“You mean he’s not at Julia’s? Dropping off a desk?” Sophie asked. She hoped she didn’t sound as bitter and confused as she did in her own head.
