Fool Me Twice (8 page)

Seconds later I’m standing in my stirrups, leaning back and bringing Zoey to a skidding stop before I lean down and pat her neck. She dances underneath me, amped up by her favorite event.

I turn her and lope across the dirt, to where Landon is sitting. I slow to a walk, using my leg to guide her up against the railing, closer to him.

With me in the saddle and Landon perched on the iron railings, we’re almost eye to eye. He tips his cowboy hat back, wiping his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. I frown as I realize the blue dots are already fading, wiping away with the sweat of the day.

“What’s with the look? That was a fantastic run,” he says.

“Huh?” I blink. “Oh, yeah, I mean, I guess.”

“Seriously,” he says, practically glowing behind the fading blue dots. “I don’t know how you’ve improved so quickly. It must’ve been in the sixteens. You were running nineteens last week when we used the clocks.”

“What? I wasn’t running …” Oh, crap. Last year. I was slower then, not quite comfortable enough to push the horse. So to him I went from cautious to gangbusters in a few days. If I’m not careful, I’m going to screw up this whole charade over something as silly as barrel racing.

“Oh, uh, yeah. What can I say? I came here to ‘chew bubble gum and kick ass … and I’m all out of bubble gum.’”

He tips his head to the side. “That’s from
They Live
. An
underrated classic, if ever there was one. I didn’t know you liked horror movies.”

I almost snort, because we’ve already established our mutual respect of horror movies. At least I’ve distracted him from my sudden and drastic improvement in barrel running. “Yeah, definitely.”

“Cool. Me too.” He holds out his hand so we can bump fists. I knock his, then pick up the rein again. It’s completely bizarre to be enjoying an everyday conversation with him. To act like we’re friends, not enemies.

“Thanks. That’s probably it for the day on barrels, then. End on a high note, or whatever.” To be honest I just want to quit because now I’m not sure how to act—do the same thing I just did, or go back to being slow, like he expected me to be? Force the swing wide around the big blue plastic barrels? Knock one down completely?

He nods and slides off the railing, dropping to the dirt. Even on foot, he’s tall. Close. He rests his hand on the toe of my boot, and I swear I can feel the heat of it through the thick leather. He seems comfortable, casual, while I’m so hyperaware of his every single touch.

“I’ll go grab Storm and we can walk her out on the trails. Give Zoey a break from arena work.” He starts to turn away, heading toward the far gates.

“You can’t,” I say, and he stops. “Remember?”

He levels a look at me. “It’s only one day early and I’ll take it easy. I doubt falling off at a walk is going to do much.”

“Yeah, okay,” I say, slowly, not sure if it’s a good idea. He took a serious hit to the head. He probably should stay off the freaking
horse, but I don’t protest. Because I kind of like the idea of hitting the open, dusty trail with him. We did it so much last summer.

“Meet me at the gate in five minutes,” he says.

I nod and watch as he slips through the railing and then jogs across the dusty drive, disappearing into the shadowed entry of the barn.

I turn Zoey and walk lazily across the dirt-clouded ring, lengthening the reins so she can stretch her neck. At the gate, I use my right leg to signal a side-step, and she moves to the left, close enough that I can flip open the horseshoe latch and swing the gate wide.

Just as I’m riding through the opening, my cell rings, startling me from my relaxed stupor. I unbutton the little pocket at the front of my western shirt and slide the phone out.

Mom Calling
flashes across the screen. I tap and put the phone to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Mackenzie?” Mom says. Like she’s not sure who will answer, as if she doesn’t recognize my voice or something.

“Yep. What’s up, Mom?”

“Just checking on you,” she says. “You’re so far away, you know?”

I smile. My mom’s a stay-at-home mom, and my sister moved out of the house a couple of years ago, so whenever I leave for the summer, Mom never seems to know what to do with herself. After the first few weeks on the ranch, she gets used to it. “I know, Mom. It’s just for the summer.”

“But you’re only back a few days before WSU.”

I blink, realizing she’s right. I mean, I knew it all along, but hearing it like that reminds me that I won’t be
home
much over the next four years. From the ranch to WSU, and then possibly back again. If they’ll have me for another summer. “Yeah. It’ll be good though. And you can always visit.”

I watch as Landon appears at the exit to the barn, leading Storm toward me. The horse is different today. Relaxed and ready for an easy ride.

“Yeah. Anyway,” my mom says, “I’m not calling to whine. You got some paperwork from WSU and I wasn’t sure if I should open it or forward it to you.”

I look at Landon again as he crosses the drive. He can’t hear me talking to my mom about college paperwork. I wasn’t doing college paperwork last year, because I hadn’t applied yet. Neither had he. Did he even know he’d already graduated? Was he going to college too? Maybe me not telling him of his memory loss would have bigger effects, like the part where he forgets to go to college.

No, wait. After I dump him, I’ll tell him the truth, because I want him to know
why
I’m dumping him. Want him to know that the pain he’s feeling is his own fault.

There’s rustling in the background and I realize my mom must be actually holding the envelope in her hands. “Why don’t you open it and then call me later and let me know if it’s anything I need to worry about?”

“Okay,” she says, and I swear she sounds a little gleeful that she gets to open my mail. “Sure.”

“Anyway, I gotta get going,” I say, feeling a little guilty. “I just finished riding, and—”

“You wore a helmet, right?”

No matter how far apart we are, I always know where she stands and how much she loves me. Unlike how things are with a certain someone. “Yeah. Always. But I still gotta walk her out, so can you call me later?”

“Sure, honey. Love you.”

I nod. “Love you too, Mom. Tell Dad I said hi.”

Landon’s next to me now, putting the reins over Storm’s neck. He gives me a sympathetic look, one of those Moms—can’t-live-with-them-can’t-live-without-them sort of things.

“Will do,” she says.

“Bye.” I lock the screen, and then slide the phone into my pocket.

“The call is coming from
inside the house!”
Landon says in a mocking, singsong voice as he crosses the reins over his horse’s withers.

“That’s not how it works,” I say, as I twirl a few long strands of Zoey’s mane in my fingers.

He slides his foot into the stirrup and swings onto Storm’s back, and once situated, picks up the reins. “Not how what works?”

“Quoting movies. It’s gotta be subtle, like something someone would actually say. So that way, if you haven’t seen the movie, you don’t even notice the quote.”

“You have
rules
for quoting movies,” he says, more of a statement then a question.

“Duh. Anyone can randomly spout quotes. Horror movies, Shakespeare, anything. The game is working it into everyday conversation without getting caught. And as far as I’m concerned, horror movies are the only ones worth quoting.”

It’s not really something I did, a year ago. I guess that’s how we didn’t realize we both loved horror movies. Silly that we watched so many movies neither of us actually liked.

“You’re serious,” he says, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Yep. I do it to Bailey all the time. She hardly ever notices.”

“Well, okay then. I guess I just got a little too excited at the realization I wasn’t going to be stuck watching chick flicks with you all summer.”

“Definitely not,” I say.

“Awesome,” he says. Then he clicks his tongue and an instant later, we’re walking toward the trail head, past a big, dried-out shrub. Our horses’ shoes make little clicking noises whenever they kick rocks, trails of dust rising in their wake. Ahead, a magpie sings, then takes flight in a flash of black and white.

“I seriously needed a break from that arena,” he says. “I swear even my eyeballs have dirt in them.”

“Mm-hmm,” I say, already a little lost in thought. Because I’m still not sure how this is all going to go, how I can go back to talking casually with him.

“Summer has a way of feeling longer here, doesn’t it?” He pulls up a bit, and Storm tosses his head in protest as I sidle up beside him. Our knees bump as our horses go two-wide on the trail.

“I think it’s the heat,” I say, lamely.

“It’s nice though, right? To wake up every day and know it’ll be just like the last.”

I narrow my eyes and play with the reins in my hands, two tiny strips of leather that manage to control a thousand-pound horse. Not so different from the feeling of control—or lack thereof—I have over my feelings for him.

“You don’t find it …” My voice trails off because I’m not sure what word I’m searching for. “Monotonous?”

“What? Waking up and riding every day? Enjoying the outdoors … and being with you? No. Not at all.”

All at once, I’m blasted with a strange mix of déjà vu and anger.

We’ve had this conversation before. He might be genuine about how much he likes this place, but he’s lying about how much he likes
me
. If he thought I was really so great, he wouldn’t have picked Natalie.

“I kinda doubt I have much to do with it,” I mumble, but it’s loud enough for him to hear.

“I’ll admit, being with you makes the summer seem shorter, not longer,” he says, grinning. I catch myself smiling back. Dang he’s irresistible when he wants to be. “But maybe that’s just me.”

“No, I know exactly what you mean.”

Landon reaches out, playfully pushing my shoulder. “Okay, smart aleck. I get it. I’m being dumb.”

“You are not!” I say, suddenly indignant. “I was serious. I get what you mean. Summer here exists outside reality. I think it’s because every day feels exactly the same, so it’s like the days last forever. You know, like how it must feel in prison.”

He snorts under his breath and picks up his reins, which are far longer than mine, the loose end dangling down to his horse’s knees. He takes the end and gently flicks them toward my leg. “Exactly. Well, maybe it doesn’t feel like prison, though. But here, at the ranch, real life doesn’t exist.”

I nod. Real life. It definitely exists. And if I forget it for too
long, I’ll be in big trouble. I’ll forget that this is all make-believe and I’ll fall for him all over again, like some lovesick dog who doesn’t know better.

Screw that.

“Yeah, anyway,” I say, ready for a change in subject. “Are you looking forward to the rodeo next weekend?”

He nods. “Yeah. Wish there was some real competition, but it should still be fun.”

“Definitely. Although I’m not exactly stoked about pole-bending. …”

“You impressed me on the barrels today though. Have you been practicing after I go to bed every night?”

I grin. “Something like that.”

“Someday we should convince Mr. Ramsey to have a real rodeo at the end of the year. Invite some tough competition. Make it a big event.”

“Why do you want a real competition?” I finally respond, “So you can blow them all away with your superior steer-wrestling skills?”

“Hey, that was a one-time affair,” he says, flicking me gently with the reins again. Is he flirting? Wait, of course he’s flirting. I’m his girlfriend. “I own that event.”

“Uh-huh,” I say, egging him on.

“You say that like you don’t believe me!”

“Oh, no, I
totally
believe you,” I say. “Mm-hmm. Mr. Steer-Wrestling King, riding alongside me just like the common folk.”

He reaches out to poke me in the ribs. “I don’t know, I think you’re the impressive one, shaving entire seconds off your barrels time practically overnight.”

“I know, inspired, right?” I say, hoping he can’t see the undercurrent of nervousness I get every time he points out the inconsistency.

“Yeah, totally,” he says, and then his expression changes, along with the tone of his voice. “ ‘I am your number one fan.’”

“Misery
,” I say. “You’re not going to break my legs and stick me in a remote cabin now, are you?”

“Dang, I thought that one would be too subtle for you.” He grins. “But hey, I
do
have a cabin. …”

“You have to catch me first!” I dig my heels into Zoey and she jumps forward.

He’s still gathering his reins as I bolt away, and Zoey grunts as she lengthens her neck, elongating her stride and sprinting toward the rolling peak in front of us. Then I remember he’s not supposed to gallop, not supposed to risk another head injury so soon after the first, and I start to pull the reins, sitting back in my saddle. But then I hear the sounds behind me and know he’s forgotten too—or doesn’t care—so I lean forward again, urging her on.

The wind whistles through my ears again, and all I can hear is that and my own heartbeat … plus the hooves pounding behind me. I don’t have to see him to know he’s picking up speed, but the trail narrows just ahead, so there’s no way for him to avoid the dust kicked up by Zoey’s hooves.

I push Zoey faster and faster … and faster.

The desert landscape blurs into a mess of brown and sage green, and Zoey’s ears flatten as she pushes into her top speed. I finally stand in the stirrups, tugging back on the reins. She resists for several strides, taking the bit in her teeth before finally
tossing her head and slowing her gait, just as Landon approaches and pulls up.

In that instant, we’re grinning at one another, the kind of wide-eyed beaming that can only be genuine. And I’m transported back to when I so innocently believed that everything was real. Before I realized that he had way more going on than what he let me see.

But at least, in this one euphoric moment, I actually know what he’s thinking.

Chapter Twelve