like that performance here.”
“Hope she was out
in that mountain air long enough to help her next time. So did you meet any
interesting folks? I haven’t been at that track for years, but the locals were
usually quite hospitable.”
Cassie nearly
spilled her coffee and then glanced out toward the pastures near the barn before
answering. “A few. Stayed in my motel mostly. Wasn’t a lot to do other than
make sure Hope was doing okay. Got a lot of reading done.”
Would she ever see
the Utahan again? Did she even want to see him again? Yes. No. Yes. Why was she
so ambivalent? All her friends envied her for always being so decisive. The man
could only bring her disappointment and broken dreams.
She’d done the
right thing by leaving. Cassie brushed dirt from her knee. Had she run away,
like her mother did? Nonsense. It was a fling. A one night stand. Granted, a
long, heated night.
Standing in the
shower in the studio loft apartment over the barn that served as her temporary
home, Cassie could hardly believe she’d been back for nearly two weeks. It
seemed like months since the Wyoming wind had left her breathless—since she and
the cowboy had quenched their lust in the straw.
She’d quickly
gotten back into the routine of training horses. Still, she worried about her
father. She worried about Cassie’s Hope. She worried about herself. She worried
about a dark handsome man, far, far away.
What was he doing? Why
hadn’t he called? Did he think about her as often as she thought about him? Damn,
why couldn’t she just erase those erotic images from her mind? Too many
memories of him touching her skin, of his feel under her fingertips, of
exquisite raw sex.
She shuddered and
rinsed her hair quickly. She had less than hour to finish showering and drive
to the little Italian restaurant in Arlington Heights to meet her girlfriends
for dinner. The four of them typically met every few weeks to share hopes,
triumphs and defeats, but hadn’t been together as a group since before she’d
left for Wyoming.
Would she tell her
friends about him? She thought not. Clint Travers had only been a brief
happening of little consequence.
Toweling dry,
Cassie blushed as she remembered teeth marks on each breast where the cowboy
had marked his claim. She vibrated remembering lifting them, imploring him to
take more. She grimaced. Maybe he had been more than a little consequence.
She tossed the
towel aside and slipped on a light blue blouse and black shorts. As she left,
Cassie tied her hair in a ponytail, poking it out the back of her white Wyoming
Downs cap.
Her friends were
seated by the time she arrived at Regalios. That was rare. She was typically
punctual, if not early. After the waiter filled the water glasses and took
their drink orders, the questions began in earnest.
“Tell us all about
it, Cass. How was the wild, wild West? Did you meet any cowboys?” Traci asked,
batting her dark eyelashes.
Cassie took a deep
breath and looked around conspiratorially before whispering, “Well, it was
really quite tame. I only saw six gunfights and two knife fights. Tame compared
to Chicago.” She smiled and leaned back in her chair. “It was a good trip. Cassie’s
Hope won her race easily. Now we cross our fingers that she can do the same
here.”
“What was Evanston,
Wyoming like?” Susan asked. “I looked it up on the map. It looked pretty
remote.”
“Small town, USA,
isn’t much different in the west than it is in the mid-west. Not much
happening. Good, decent folk. Country western, bluegrass, cowboy poetry on
Friday night. A rodeo. And of course the track. And not far away was Bridger,
the site of Fort Bridger from rendezvous days. That was interesting.”
“Ladies, are you
ready to order?” asked the waiter, his smile disarming.
No sooner than he
was out of earshot, Ashton pointed her dinner knife at Cassie as if preparing
for the kill. “Now girl,” she intoned, “tell us about the man, about the
“Hope she was out
in that mountain air long enough to help her next time. So did you meet any
interesting folks? I haven’t been at that track for years, but the locals were
usually quite hospitable.”
Cassie nearly
spilled her coffee and then glanced out toward the pastures near the barn before
answering. “A few. Stayed in my motel mostly. Wasn’t a lot to do other than
make sure Hope was doing okay. Got a lot of reading done.”
Would she ever see
the Utahan again? Did she even want to see him again? Yes. No. Yes. Why was she
so ambivalent? All her friends envied her for always being so decisive. The man
could only bring her disappointment and broken dreams.
She’d done the
right thing by leaving. Cassie brushed dirt from her knee. Had she run away,
like her mother did? Nonsense. It was a fling. A one night stand. Granted, a
long, heated night.
Standing in the
shower in the studio loft apartment over the barn that served as her temporary
home, Cassie could hardly believe she’d been back for nearly two weeks. It
seemed like months since the Wyoming wind had left her breathless—since she and
the cowboy had quenched their lust in the straw.
She’d quickly
gotten back into the routine of training horses. Still, she worried about her
father. She worried about Cassie’s Hope. She worried about herself. She worried
about a dark handsome man, far, far away.
What was he doing? Why
hadn’t he called? Did he think about her as often as she thought about him? Damn,
why couldn’t she just erase those erotic images from her mind? Too many
memories of him touching her skin, of his feel under her fingertips, of
exquisite raw sex.
She shuddered and
rinsed her hair quickly. She had less than hour to finish showering and drive
to the little Italian restaurant in Arlington Heights to meet her girlfriends
for dinner. The four of them typically met every few weeks to share hopes,
triumphs and defeats, but hadn’t been together as a group since before she’d
left for Wyoming.
Would she tell her
friends about him? She thought not. Clint Travers had only been a brief
happening of little consequence.
Toweling dry,
Cassie blushed as she remembered teeth marks on each breast where the cowboy
had marked his claim. She vibrated remembering lifting them, imploring him to
take more. She grimaced. Maybe he had been more than a little consequence.
She tossed the
towel aside and slipped on a light blue blouse and black shorts. As she left,
Cassie tied her hair in a ponytail, poking it out the back of her white Wyoming
Downs cap.
Her friends were
seated by the time she arrived at Regalios. That was rare. She was typically
punctual, if not early. After the waiter filled the water glasses and took
their drink orders, the questions began in earnest.
“Tell us all about
it, Cass. How was the wild, wild West? Did you meet any cowboys?” Traci asked,
batting her dark eyelashes.
Cassie took a deep
breath and looked around conspiratorially before whispering, “Well, it was
really quite tame. I only saw six gunfights and two knife fights. Tame compared
to Chicago.” She smiled and leaned back in her chair. “It was a good trip. Cassie’s
Hope won her race easily. Now we cross our fingers that she can do the same
here.”
“What was Evanston,
Wyoming like?” Susan asked. “I looked it up on the map. It looked pretty
remote.”
“Small town, USA,
isn’t much different in the west than it is in the mid-west. Not much
happening. Good, decent folk. Country western, bluegrass, cowboy poetry on
Friday night. A rodeo. And of course the track. And not far away was Bridger,
the site of Fort Bridger from rendezvous days. That was interesting.”
“Ladies, are you
ready to order?” asked the waiter, his smile disarming.
No sooner than he
was out of earshot, Ashton pointed her dinner knife at Cassie as if preparing
for the kill. “Now girl,” she intoned, “tell us about the man, about the
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