Page 13 of A Reckless Memory

Ironic that the one decent thing I tried to do in my life had turned into a festering pile of crap.

I parked by a red Chevy Silverado. Guess everything was shoving me down memory lane today, but changing jobs and moving to work at a new ranch always had that effect. After getting out, I brushed my hands down my blue-plaid button-down shirt and the best pair of jeans I owned—all freshly washed but slightly wrinkled from the long trip.

I took the three steps up to the cedar porch and crossed to the front door, loving how quiet it was. The strikes of my heels on the wood were the only sounds other than birds and the wind rustling the long prairie grasses outside the seeded area.

Alfalfa fields. One cutting had been done, but the owner could’ve gotten two in before summer had ended. He’d probably been moving in.

I rang the doorbell. The house was simple but stylish, with the door a dark blue that stood out from the darker earth tones of the siding. A nice place. Not a place that would send out scam postings for my personal information. Barking ignited inside the house, and I stepped away like the dog could barrel out of the door.

No one answered. I knocked.

Nothing. The curtains moved like the dog inside was running from the window to the door. Did I have the right address?

Between the newly built house and shop and the broken-down buildings behind it, this place fit the description. I really should’ve insisted on a phone call, but Christie had claimed email was fine. I couldn’t afford to pass up a job, but the gas money ate a hole in what little I had in savings.

The rescue owner was probably some obnoxious city guy who thought he knew it all. Country or urban, I was used to arrogance and entitlement.

Maybe he was working in the barn. I thought I’d at least meet Christie to get me settled.

I wandered around outside the house, the barking from inside fading. The old red barn had its own majesty. Crooked pens lined the outside of the barn, made out of any wood or metal material the previous owners had found on hand. Feed boxes hung from the rails and probably leaked as much grain as they held.

“Hello?” I called. I’d be gone already if I didn’t need this damn job. Too many questions. Nothing close to the responsibility I used to have.

Those days were on pause. My plans to get my own place and start my own business were also stalled. Again. I’d get there, but I had to start back at rock fucking bottom.

I briefly turned my attention back to the horses. At least two mares and two geldings. The fifth was tucked behind the rest like it wanted to stay as far away from a human as possible. From what I could see, they were getting in their winter coats—not as full for this time of year this far north, but their ribs and at least one’s sway back told me they needed good nutrition and supplements to finish getting ready for winter.

Where was my contact? “Anyone here?” I didn’t shout to keep from startling the already cautious animals.

“Ansen,” came a flat reply from a voice that sent a long-forgotten zing through my gut.

A woman emerged from the dark yawn of the open barn door. My heart thudded in slow motion as I took her in.

Did I wake up this morning in an even worse nightmare than when I went to bed? I’d been worried I was walking into a scheme where my personal data was at risk. Or that I would be jumped just for fun. I wasn’t ready for my past to bait and trap me.

I stared at the woman who’d haunted my conscience for ten fucking years. A mix of privileged princess and forthright practicality. A girl who’d flown out of my life faster than a Triple Crown winner. Aggie Knight.

Christie.

Christ.

She stood in the opening of the barn, the backdrop dark while the sun shone on her. This wasn’t the Aggie I knew. Shadows hung in her eyes like they were permanent, but her clothing was pristine. The precocious, slightly insecure country girl I’d been engaged to was replaced by a cynical, sophisticated woman.

The change resonated inside me as a loss, a faint echo of what I had experienced the day she left.

“Christie?” I asked. “Was that necessary?”

Displeasure, and maybe a little guilt if I wanted to delude myself, rippled across her face. “Didn’t think you’d entertain the job offer otherwise.”

“What is this?” Why me? My name should be a curse on her tongue. So why the hell was I here?

“Exactly what I said in our emails.” She raised her arms up to encompass the land, and I tried—and failed—not to notice how she had an hourglass figure she hadn’t possessed before. I didn’t know this woman with the cinched red riding coat and knee-high leather boots. The girl who’d shunned all English riding but looked ready for a dressage show. Her jeans were so blue they looked fresh from the factory. This Aggie wasn’t wearing a straw cowboy hat, her eyes dancing while she laughed. Her hair was drawn back in a severe bun that couldn’t hide the red glints in the light-brown strands.

She dropped her arms. “I wanted to help some horses, but I’m working at the refinery. You were available.”

“Were you spying on me?” I pushed the shame to the background of my thoughts. She’d probably read everything and deemed it fitting after what I’d done to her. Still, hiring me didn’t make sense. “Are you trying to help me?”

Pink spots dotted her cheeks. “God, no. I was commiserating about shitty exes with Sutton, and we looked all of you up to see how little you’ve paid for being awful to women. I saw the news. I need a trainer, and you need a job.” A sardonic smile curved lips I still saw in my dreams. “Your rate was just right.”

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