Unlucky in Love (15 page)

Gunnar looked at her for a long moment, like he was trying to figure out what to say. Then he put down his coffee with a sigh.

“So, I have to ask, Lex—why is it you're still hung up on a guy who—”

“—left?”

He shrugged. “The question occurs.”

Lexi looked out the window, watching a line of guests amble out on another trail ride, Cole in the lead. This time, Jess brought up the rear, and she looked so natural and happy in the saddle that Lexi felt a stab of jealousy low in her stomach.

Where would
she
look natural and happy? Did she even know?

“I don't know, Gunnar.” She sat down on the stool opposite him. “I really, really don't know.”

“Do you love him?”

Gunnar asked the question casually, but when she looked at his hand around his to-go cup, it was tense, like he was dead curious to see what she'd say.

“I—I did. I definitely…
did
.”

“And now?”

“I don't think I know how to know. Does that make any sense? I mean, two months ago, I was buying a bikini for the honeymoon. I was checking out real estate in Maine. I had the paperwork for a joint checking account.”

She took a deep breath, remembering that paperwork sitting on the table the morning she'd left for work thinking she was about to be married—the
last
morning she'd left for work thinking that.

Had that been the straw that had broken Tristan's back? Seeing their names next to each other on bank paperwork?

“How long were you guys together?”

Gunnar sipped his coffee like he was trying to give off the impression that he could care less, but she could feel a buzzing undertone that kept her off-kilter.

“Two years.”

He nodded appreciatively. “That's a long time. How long before he popped the question?”

Lexi thought back to the night they'd gotten engaged. Her teenaged dreams of the moment had included moonlight, waves, and definitely tulips, because those were hands down her favorite flower. She'd pictured a nice dinner, a walk on the beach, a handsome man down on one knee.

And—you know—it'd been sort of like that.

A little, anyway…if you didn't look too,
too
closely.

They'd been eating at a diner, and the topic of marriage had come up because one of her colleagues had just gotten engaged. And because she'd been dying to know whether he might
ever
pop the question, she'd asked if he ever pictured himself getting married.

She could almost still hear the gong that had probably gone off in his head at her question.

Um, maybe,
he'd said, and she'd had to work really hard not to let her disappointment show.
Someday,
he'd added.
I don't know, really.
Then he'd looked up.
Why? Do you want to get married?

Well, someday,
she'd answered.
I mean, no rush or anything. Just…someday.

To…me?

No. The mailman. Who do you think?

He'd looked around the diner, like maybe he was on a hidden camera show and didn't know it yet, and really, that should have been a sign. A big, flipping neon-with-capital-letters sign.

Well, I guess we could,
he'd finally said, and instead of being insulted that he sounded as if marriage was one step up from the guillotine, she'd been thrilled that he was willing to even consider the prospect.

Another Really Big Sign.

Upon examination from two thousand miles away, it was pretty clear that the next six months had been
full
of neon signs, but she'd closed her eyes, bulled forward, and made it her mission to make sure he didn't regret his proposal, such as it was.

“He didn't really pop the question, so much. We sort of—decided together.” Yes, that sounded a little less pathetic than the reality.

“And then he un-decided?”

“Well…yes. Two weeks before the date.” She sighed. “Standard interval.”

Gunnar smiled. “I didn't know there
was
a standard interval for backing out of your own wedding.”

“It's not
a
standard. It's
my
standard. For my life, I mean.” She shook her head, closing her eyes. “Never mind.”

“If you say so.” He sipped his coffee, thoughtful for a long moment. “Wait. No. I'm not supposed to let that
never mind
by.”

“This time, you totally can.”

“Nope. Someone beat that into me recently. What do you mean, it's
your
standard?”

“It is far too lame to explain. If I told you, you'd either pity me, or be really, really embarrassed for me, and neither of those is something I can handle.”

“I promise to do neither of those things.”

Lexi rolled her eyes. “Fine. I'm cursed, okay?”

“Cursed? Because you got saddled with an idiot who didn't deserve you, and he figured it out before you did?”

“Oh, it goes back way further than
this
idiot. Thus the Curse part. It's ongoing.”

“How many times
have
you been engaged, Lexi?”

She shook her head quickly. “Not engaged. Only once on that.”

And then she told him about Jason Sanders, and about Pete Tinker, and about Ethan Stone. And while she talked, he listened carefully, nodding slowly and making appropriate sympathetic noises at appropriate intervals.

“So, once you had a ring on your finger, you thought you'd finally broken the Curse?”

“Well, yes. I mean, why wouldn't I? We were going to get married! I thought I was set. Finally,
I
was the just-right girl, instead of the good-for-now one. You don't just—you know—back out of a
wedding
quite so easily as an eighth-grade dance.”

“And then…he did.”

She took a pained breath. “Yeah.”

Gunnar was silent for a long moment, then set his coffee cup on the counter with a solid thud.

“So it seems to me you're right. You're doomed.”

Her head snapped up.
“What?”

“Well,”—he shrugged—“history speaks for itself, right? I mean, you gotta admit, you've got a pretty strong pattern going here.”

“Is this you being sympathetic?”

“You didn't
want
sympathetic, did you? This is me being realistic. You're the one with the history. I'm just analyzing it and predicting your chances of future happiness.”

She almost snorted. “And?
Is
there any chance of future happiness?”

“It's possible. Remote, but possible.”

Lexi took a deep breath. “There's a reason they keep you working mostly with horses, isn't there?”

“Yep. Lot of reasons. But hear me out. I'm often right about this stuff.” Gunnar stood up, leaning on the counter like he had all day. “Actually, I have a better idea. Do you like quizzes?”

“No.”

“Good. I have one for you.” He put up a finger. “The questions are easy, but you have to answer honestly. And in exchange for your honesty, I promise not to let your answers leave this cabin. Deal?”

“No.”

“Excellent. Question number one—beer or wine?”

“You're not a very good listener. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Nope. Beer? Wine?”

“Fine.” She sighed. “Beer. Craft. Vermont-brewed.”

“See? Told you they'd be easy. Question two—cat or dog?”

“Yes.”

He nodded. “I'll let that one slide, even though cat brains are only as big as a walnut.”

“Cats are sweet.”

“You clearly haven't met the Whisper Creek barn cats yet. But that's irrelevant. Next question—chocolate or vanilla?”

“How is
that
relevant to anything?”

“I don't know. It's a throwaway question. I'm just lowering your defenses with easy ones.”

Lexi laughed. “Pretty sure you're not supposed to reveal that, this early in the quiz.”

“This is why I'm a horse trainer, not a detective. Answer the question, perp.”

“Vanilla. With maple syrup.”

“Really? I totally had you for a chocolate girl.”

“Nope.” She smiled, then felt her face fall as she realized even her ice-cream choice was boring. “Vanilla all the way. That's me. Boring.”

He drilled her with his eyes. “Pretty sure we've had that discussion already. And I'm pretty sure you know that
boring
is the last adjective in the world that I'd apply to you.”

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“Ready for another question?”

“No.”

“Good. Ocean or desert?”

“Ocean. Hands down.” She smiled. “Duh.”

“That was another gimme. How about ocean versus mountains?”

Lexi felt her nose wrinkle as she tried to figure out how best to answer. “Still ocean, but the mountains are growing on me.”

“Okay, if you had a night off, would you rather stay in and read a book or go out?”

“Book, unless the going-out offer was too good to resist.”

He smiled. “And what would make it too good to resist?”

“Oh, I don't know. Shots and karaoke come to mind.”

“Didn't you swear those off less than twenty minutes ago?”

She laughed. “Right. Because they lead to drunk-texting and mortal embarrassment.”

“Last question.” His face grew serious, and she swallowed nervously. “The woman I was out with the other night—the one who laughed through dinner, got ice cream on her nose, and giggled in the rain. Was that the real Lexi? Or the Lexi you're trying to become?”

Lexi searched his face, hearing—was it hope?—in his question.

“That was the real me.” She took a deep breath, looking into his eyes. “And the real me had a really great time.”

He paused. “I hear a
but
there.”

“No buts. It was…fun. Easy.” She tipped her head, realizing again just how simple it
had
been to be with him. But was that because they were compatible? Or was it because she knew he was so far out of her league that there was no way he could ever think of her as more than a sweet summer fling?

“Well, so did I.” He shrugged. “You know, Lex, I might be totally out of line here, but it seems to me, if you're trying to somehow change yourself in order to impress somebody who should have loved you just the way you are, there's something dead wrong with that equation.”

She shook her head sadly. “I know. And if it was just one guy, one breakup, one dead end, I could maybe see it that objectively. But it's been the story of my entire life. I'm like a
Dear Abby
letter, for God's sake.”

“What?” He blinked, shaking his head.

“You know.” She waved a hand. “
Dear Abby, every time I have a boyfriend, he breaks up with me so he can date somebody better. It's happened a million times, and now my fiancé just left me at the altar. Could it possibly be me that's the problem?”

Lexi saw Gunnar start to smile, but tamp it down when he looked at her face. Then he stood up and came around the counter, opening his arms.

She crossed hers in response. “Please. No sympathy hugs. It just ups the pitiful factor here.”

“It's not a sympathy hug, Lex. Come here.” He reached out and gathered her to his chest, resting his chin on her head. “Has it occurred to you that maybe your difficulty lies not in the keeping-the-boyfriend part, but maybe in the picking-the-boyfriend-in-the-first-place part?”

“Ya think, Sherlock?” Her voice was muffled against his chest, and she fought not to uncross her arms and hold him more tightly.

“I'm just saying. I mean, when you met The Idiot—who, for sake of civility, I will call by his given name for the remainder of this conversation—did you really think you were destined to be together forever?”

Lexi laughed shortly. “When I met Tristan, he was hanging upside down from a cliff face, having just lost his grip on the rock he was climbing.”

“Were you
climbing
?”

“God, no.” She shivered. “And thank you for making that sound like you couldn't possibly believe I'd be so daring and unafraid, by the way. I was walking my neighbor's dog along the path at the
bottom
of that cliff.”

“Ah, so you rescued him? Because there's that whole rescuer-high thing, and the victim-guilt thing. That can get people together—people who might not otherwise click.”

She sighed, pulling back, leaning against the counter. “No. I didn't rescue him. I freaked out and called 911.
They
rescued him.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “So then he offered to buy you dinner to thank you for not letting him dangle there and die?”

“Something like that.”

Exactly
like that.

“And two years later, a ring. Were you
happy
for those two years?”

“Of course I was. I wouldn't have stayed if I wasn't.” She looked down at her nails, finding one that clearly needed her immediate attention. “We weren't completely different. Just—maybe we liked a lot of different things. But obviously we liked some of the same things, too.”

“Obviously.”

“Gunnar, I know how this sounds. And you forcing me to analyze it while painfully hung over? Not really helping.”

“I'm sorry.” He sighed, looking at his watch. “I have to go do a lesson.” Then he put up his hands as he backed toward the door. “I guess I just wish I could exorcise The Idiot from your brain so you could actually enjoy the rest of the summer out here, being you…not being someone you think
he'd
like better.”

A few days later, Gunnar swore silently as he vied with Duke for control of the rope. The horse was antsy tonight, like there was something in the air that he didn't like the smell of. He'd been fighting the rope for five minutes now, and Gunnar's forearms were starting to feel it.

Oh, who was he kidding? The horse had been fine, before Gunnar'd taken him out to the ring. But now Duke was feeling every bit of Gunnar's mood, like it was traveling right through the lead line. Instead of being one hundred percent focused on the task at hand—on the
horse
at hand—Gunnar's head was elsewhere.

He looked up at Lexi's cabin, saw her sitting on her porch swing with a book, and then ripped his eyes away to concentrate on Duke. Ten minutes later, he gave up, leading him back to his stall.

“You want me to take him?” Cole came around a corner. “I've got fifteen minutes before the evening ride.”

“Nah. I'm good.”

Cole reached for the line. “No offense, but your head's elsewhere, buddy, and Duke knows it. I'll get him settled.”

Gunnar felt the quiet reprimand in Cole's voice, and instead of arguing, he handed the lead line to him. Dammit. His head was
never
elsewhere. He prided himself on staying focused, on seeing every last muscle twitch of the horses he was training. He knew—half a second before they did—exactly what they were going to do next, and it was what made him one of the best trainers in Montana.

It was also what had kept him from getting dead, and Cole was right to call him on it. Duke wasn't a horse you dealt with if you didn't have one hundred and ten percent concentration onboard.

“Thanks.” Gunnar touched his hat. “Appreciate it.”

He headed out of the stable, eyes automatically looking uphill, but Lexi was no longer in sight. She was probably inside, covering up her perfectly beautiful face with that damn makeup he hated. Or maybe she was trying to figure out what her next impress-The-Idiot venture was going to be.

Yeah, so maybe he hadn't been able to get her out of his head since that one, mind-altering kiss, but clearly, she wasn't having the same problem.

He headed to the other stable, knowing the only thing that would clear his mind right now was a ride. He wasn't on the guest schedule tonight, as Cole had been trying to keep him clear for his training, so he had the rest of the evening free. He'd grab some dinner and a couple of water bottles, and head out. Maybe if he got himself free of the ranch hubbub, he could think straight.

Ten minutes later, he loaded up his saddlebags and led Smoky out to the corral just outside the stable. He stopped short when he saw Lexi leaning on the fence, jeans and actual riding boots on, a real Stetson settled on her head.

“Well.” He tipped his head. “You look—different.”

She shrugged. “Got some help from Jess.”

“Going for genuine cowgirl this evening?” He could already picture the shots she'd send to The Idiot. And The Idiot, because he was an idiot, wouldn't even appreciate the effort she was going to here.

“I'm not going for anything, really.” She stood up straight. “Just…me.”

“Oh.” He let Smoky head for the water bucket in the corner. “What does that mean, exactly?”

“Not sure yet,” she answered. “But I decided I'm going to work on it. Someone never-minded my
never mind
the other day, and now I'm a little discombobulated.”

He smiled. “That's rough.”

“I know.” She nodded. “So I was wondering—and not now, obviously, because it looks like you're all set to head out—but I was thinking maybe, possibly…I'd really like to learn to ride. For real.”

“Why?” He tried to keep the suspicion out of his voice, but he'd be damned if he was going to put her on a Whisper Creek horse again, if all she was after was a photo op.

She was silent for a long moment, long enough that he felt his frown deepen. Dammit, it still was about Tristan. But then she took a deep breath.

“I want to feel what you feel when you ride.”

He tipped his head. “What?”

“I see you ride, and it's like—I don't know—this
bliss
. It's like you were meant to be on horseback. Jess looks so happy when she rides. And Cole and Decker? When they ride, it looks like they were born on horseback. I—I'd love to feel that. I got a taste of it when I cantered on Rocket, and…I really want to feel it again.”

He considered her words, rolled them around his head, and couldn't help but think she was being genuine here. But he still had to ask.

“So this isn't about your ex? Not about impressing him with your cowgirl skills?”

She shook her head, closing her eyes like she was in pain. “Pretty sure I've impressed him in a whole different way in the past few days. Not sure there's any coming back from that video.”

“Oh, it wasn't that bad.”

“Gunnar, you were there. It was
definitely
that bad.”

“Okay.” He smiled. “It was pretty terrible. But in your defense, you had a little bit of liquid courage onboard. Tends to dull the senses. And the talent.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. “For your honesty
and
your generosity.” She stepped back from the fence. “So do you think I could maybe ride again sometime? If you have time?”

Gunnar looked at the hills just west, where his land waited. Then he looked at this tiny girl propped against the fence, trying her hardest to swallow her fear so she could figure out who the hell she actually was anymore.

He took a deep breath, hoping he wouldn't regret what he was about to do, because spending any more time with Lexi was going to send his brain in directions he really couldn't handle right now. And though all he'd wanted to do was head out on Smoky, Lexi wasn't ready for the trail, and he had no desire to spend the next hour doing circles in a corral.

“I've got a better idea. Did you pack a swimsuit?”

“Yes?” She looked at him suspiciously.

“Good. Go put it on under your clothes, and meet me back here in fifteen minutes. I'm going to show you something I bet you haven't seen yet.”

“Are you taking me…swimming?”

“Sort of. Depends how you do.”

“Gunnar?” She blew out a breath. “Are you going to strap me into a canoe and send me down some white water rapids, just to get rid of me?”

He nodded as he pointed toward her cabin. “You're onto me. Your impending death begins in fifteen minutes. Wear your best suit.”

As he watched her walk back up the hill, he shook his head. What was he doing? He ought to be working Duke right now, since all the guests were getting busy with the evening activities. He ought to be fixing that leak on his cabin porch. He ought to be planning a new route for next week's trail ride.

None of those things was going to get done if he was spending his time taking Lexi out to the lake, but all he could think about was how he was going to spend the next couple of hours with this gorgeous woman, teaching her something she'd never done, and hopefully making her laugh in the meantime.

Because of all the things he already loved about Lexi, her laughter was what got him right in the gut, every time. Whether she was using her comic hero voices to distract a little kid while she bandaged up a cut, or when he'd walked in on her failed baking experiment with Ma, that laugh just made him have to laugh right along with her.

Yeah, Duke and the leaky porch could wait.

“Oh, my God.” Lexi breathed out as the truck came over a rise and Nagamoon Lake came into view. “It's stunning!”

Gunnar automatically slowed and pulled off to the side of the road so she could enjoy the panorama before they headed downhill to the beach area.

“Not quite an ocean, but pretty okay, right?” He winked, knowing that hundreds of photographers had parked in this exact spot over the years, waiting for the perfect cloud formation or sunset over the distant peaks. He'd seen this shot on postcards, calendars, and mugs downtown, and he was pretty sure Kyla had grabbed a picture from here for the Whisper Creek website.

“Pretty okay, yes.” She rolled her eyes. “I really need to get Ma to put me on the excursion schedule one of these days. Kyla and Jess come out here every session with the guests, but I've always been back at the ranch.”

“Well, the lake's spring-fed, so the water's almost too cold to swim in most of the year. You're not missing much there.”

“But the view!” Her smile grew as she looked from left to right. “I could sit here all day and just look at it.”

He laughed. “Nah. We have things to do. I still can't believe you live on an ocean and have never been in a kayak.”

“Have you ever kayaked on an ocean, Gunnar?” She hiked her eyebrows. “Because—you know—
waves
.” She made her hands do a wave that could have rivaled a tsunami, which made him laugh again.

“Gotcha. Well, no waves here. You're safe.”

She fiddled with her seatbelt. “No helmets required?”

“Not unless you head over the dam at the other end.”

“There's a dam?” He heard a tinge of panic in her voice.

“There is, but the worst thing that would happen to you if you went over it is that you'd have to get out of your boat and drag it back up. It's a massive drop—like two feet, I think?”

“You know.” She looked out the side window. “You're not nearly as funny as you think you are sometimes.”

“Noted. I'll try to work on that.”

He reached the parking lot of the boat launch and jumped out of the truck, coming around to get Lexi's door before she could get it open. If he was going to terrorize her with new experiences, the least he could do was be a gentleman about it, after all.