Among Wildflowers (8 page)

“Well, come on, Macy.
Just for a little bit?”

Macy sat in the back seat of the station wagon with her arms crossed. “No.”

Aunt Suzy pulled her giant, floppy sunhat onto her head and handed Macy hers through the open car window. “Please? For me?”

“Fine.” Macy snatched the hat from her aunt and reluctantly got out of the car, slamming the door shut behind her.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you,” Aunt Suzy said as they made their way towards the picnic spot.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Macy peeked at her aunt from beneath the rim of her hat. “They’re assholes.”

“Now, Macy,” her aunt said softly, clicking her tongue. “You know we don’t use that kind of language.”

“Sorry,” Macy muttered. “But they are.”

Aunt Suzy stopped, dropping the picnic basket onto the ground beside her feet. “Macy Elizabeth Ferris. You don’t realize who you are, do you?”

Aunt Suzy’s wild, long blond hair blew in the breeze, along with her signature long colorful skirt. She gently cupped Macy’s face, forcing Macy to look at her.

“Now you listen to me, young lady. You are so special. So incredibly special, don’t you see that? You’re compassionate, you’re caring, you’re thoughtful, you’re beautiful, and you’re smart as a whip. Too smart sometimes for my liking,” Aunt Suzy said with a wink.

Macy rolled her eyes, but Suzy held her face firmly.

“Don’t you dare waste your time worrying for one second longer what anyone thinks of you, understand?”

“But Jonathon said my mother was nothing but a dirty crack whore -
”

“Macy! Don’t say such things, you hear me? Never again. Your
mother was very sick and she had a lot of problems, but that doesn’t matter now. What matters is that she loved you. Beneath everything else, beneath all the ugly and all the hurt, she loved you so much. That’s all you need to know about her.”

Aunt Suzy stepped away, crouching down to open the basket. She took out two purple and blue picnic blankets and handed one to Macy. Macy took the blanket, looking around. They were standing at the top of steep hill.

“We’re eating here?”

“No, silly,” Aunt Suzy laughed merrily. She pointed to the bottom of the hill where it spilled down into a beautiful meadow that was full of all different kinds of brightly colored wildflowers. “We’re going to eat down there of course.”

“Okay,” Macy said irritably and started making her way down the hill, but Suzy grabbed her arm.

“No, silly girl,” she said and then unfolded her blanket, shaking it out. “That’s one way to get down this hill. But I think I know of a better way.”

“Oh, Aunt Suzy, why do you always have to be so... weird?”

“Suit yourself,” Aunt Suzy said. Then she threw the basket’s handle over her arm, grabbed two ends of the blanket, holding it above her head, and took off down the hill towards the meadow.

Macy couldn’t stop herself from giggling. Just when things seemed so hard Macy thought she’d never recover, Aunt Suzy seemed to somehow magically make things look bright again. After taking a quick glance around to ensure no one was watching, Macy unfolded her blanket as well and mimicked her aunt by running down the hill with the blanket above her head. As she ran, the wind blew Macy’s hair around her face and the aroma of wildflowers filled her nose. Closing her eyes, she spun around in circles, the blanket twirling and swirling in the wind around her.

***

The next morning, Macy was standing in front of the small mirror when there was a quiet knock on the door. She exchanged looks with Lane, who was checking his email on his bed, and then went over to open the door.

“Hey, Macy, how’s the arm?” Ryland stood on the front step, cowboy hat in hand.

Macy smiled, thinking he belonged on one of those silly birthday cards that had an absurdly attractive cowboy on it.

“A little better, thank you.” She flexed her arm a bit. “Just a bit tender.”

Ryland nodded, a tiny smile playing across his lips. “I thought you and Lane might enjoy going out tonight.”

“Out?”

“Well, it’s not the club scene you’re used to in New York, but I’ll show you what a real Montana bar looks like.” He grinned at her.

“Sounds great.”

“Well, I’ve got some work to do around here, so I’ll see you two later.”

“Okay,” she said, watching him go.

She shut the door and turned to Lane.

“A real Montana bar, huh?”

“Apparently,” Macy said with a shrug. “Maybe it’ll be fun.”

“Doubtful.”

“You’ve had a sour taste in your mouth since we got here. Why?” Macy asked, putting her hands on her hips.

“I don’t know... just sucks here. And I don’t like Ryland.”

“I thought you were the one who was excited to meet him in the first place.”

“Yeah,” Lane said, shooting to his feet. “And I thought you were the one who was dreading coming here? Knuckle dragging hillbilly, remember?”

Macy took a step back. “What has gotten into you, Lane? Why are you so mad at me?”

Lane’s shoulders slumped and he sat down again. “I’m sorry, Mace. I’m just worried about you.”

“There’s no reason for you to be worried.”

“There’s no reason?” Lane shook his head and looked down at the floor. “Macy, you really scared me.”

“I know…”

“And this assignment was supposed to get you back on your feet. You were using this week to get your career back on track.”

“I am.”

“Then stop flirting with Ryland Quinn. You have Logan.”

“Don’t you think I’m aware of that? There’s nothing going on between Ryland and me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Of course.”

Logan sighed. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m overreacting. You just scared the shit of me...I don’t want to see you go through anything like that again. I almost lost you.”

She sat down beside him and rested her head on his shoulder. “Nothing will happen, promise.”

“It better not,” he said, throwing his arms around her. “What the hell am I going to do with you?”

***

Ryland had been working beside Jose all day. Days like that made him feel twice as accomplished as a day on the road did. Made him feel satisfied and fulfilled, and yet he was beginning to get that yearning to write again. He had actually gotten his guitar out the other night and started playing a tune that came to him. No lyrics yet, but it was a start. A damned big start. Maybe he was actually going to get his shit together one of these days.

He rode Belle into the corral, patting her on the neck as he dismounted. Macy was walking toward the fence. Ryland smiled when he saw her, his stomach doing a flip-flop and his heart pounding excitedly in his chest.

“Hey there, girl,” she said softly, reaching her hand out to Belle as the horse approached her.

“Hey,” Ryland said, watching the exchange between the two with interest.

“Listen, Lane says he’s not feeling well.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s a bit of a drama queen sometimes. He’s not used to roughing it like this. In fact, he’s used to being pretty pampered.”

Ryland chuckled. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Me too. I’ll guess we’ll have to do a rain check on our Montana bar night out.”

“Don’t you still want to go?”

“Oh.” Ryland could have sworn he spotted a soft blush creep up her cheeks. “I’m not the one writing the story. I couldn’t really fill in for Lane.”

Ryland offered her a lopsided grin. “Just go out with me.” Macy blinked and her mouth fell open. He cleared his throat and quickly continued. “I mean… come out and see for yourself. It would still be helpful to the story for you to get a feel for small town life. You can tell Lane about it later.”

She raised an eyebrow and regarded him for a moment before smiling shyly. “Alright, Mr. Cowboy Quinn. Show me your small town life.”

Ryland leaned his forearms on the fence and looked down at Macy. She was so damned adorable in that moment that he longed to pull her against him and kiss her soundly. Hell, he just wished he was allowed to touch her at all. But he wasn’t, and he was well aware of that. Instead, he gave her a nod and smiled, tipping his hat to her. “It’d be my pleasure, little lady.”

She shook her head and rolled her eyes, but he could tell she was only teasing him in return.

“Can you be ready to go in an hour?

“Sure.”

“Alright. Meet you at the house.”

“Okay.” She took one last look at him over her shoulder as she walked away.

After Ryland was done wiping down Belle and checking on the other horses, he went back to the house and hopped in the shower. All the while he couldn’t seem to get Macy out of his mind. He hadn’t had feelings like this since... well, it’d been a while.

After his shower, he stood in front of the mirror inspecting his reflection as he wiped the steam away with a dry washcloth. Ryland never thought he’d want another woman again, and it figured that when it finally did happen, she would already love someone else. Maybe this was his fate, to be alone for the rest of his life. He’d already experienced love—real love. It was selfish of him to think it could happen twice. He had to stop looking at Macy that way, like he was a starving man and she was his only source of nourishment. He was damned desperate, that was all. This was all part of the healing process or something. Hell, he didn’t know how this shit was supposed to work.

Turning the light off as he left the bathroom, he went in search of clean clothes to wear. The only thing Ryland knew for sure was that something had to give. He couldn’t live as a hermit for the rest of his life. He had to get his career back and find happiness again or else he might lose himself for good. His music used to bring him so much joy, and he wanted that back again. He needed it.

“Alright, smile. Perfect,” Macy said,
holding the camera up to her face. “That’s it, excellent. Now you,” she said grabbing the young man’s arm. “Stand behind her just like this.”

Macy kept clicking away, taking hundreds of photos in hopes of getting a good one. She wasn’t on her game today, and she was worried the pictures would reflect that.

“Are we almost done? I’ve got a massage,” one of the girls said.

“Almost,” Macy said as cheerfully as she could. She motioned for one of her assistants to move one of the lights. Grabbing her thermos from her bag, she took a long sip. Of course it was vodka instead of coffee, but it
would help get Macy through today. She was almost done and could go home.

“Okay, bring in the last of the props,” Macy said to her staff, motioning for them to get moving.

“More props?” the annoying blond said. “I’m done today.”

Macy shook her head, using every fiber of her being to keep from punching the girl in her smart mouth. “My boss wants some shots with these props, then we’re done.”

“No.” The girl stomped her foot like a child. “I want to be done now.”

“Well, it’s not about what you want, is it? Why don’t you try not being such a spoiled little brat for five minutes so we can finish this up?”

The girl gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. “How dare you talk to me like that? You’re the photographer. You work for me. Show me some respect.”

Macy laughed, throwing back the last of the vodka from her thermos. “Like hell I work for you. I work for the magazine. The magazine is paying all of you to appear in a spread about the movie. Therefore, you stupid little bitch, you work for me.”

This time everyone in the room gasped and all eyes were on Macy.

“How dare you?” the girl said again. “Everyone is going to hear about this, do you hear me? Everyone. I’m going to get you fired so fast it’ll make your head spin.”

“Fine.” Macy threw her hands up in mock-defeat. “Be my guest. I would absolutely love to never have to show up to the train wreck that is
Celebrity News
. My fucking job is a joke and I’m done anyway. I’m tired of kissing everyone’s asses all day long. Especially spoiled little stuck-up princesses like yourself.”

“Oh my God, Macy, what are you doing?” Lane was in the doorway.

“Nothing, why do you ask?” Macy said. Turning to walk toward Lane, she tripped over a cable and fell hard to ground, bringing pieces of the lighting equipment with her.

“She’s drunk!” one of the girls yelled in disgust.

“You know what?” Macy said, getting back on her feet. “Screw you. Screw all of you.”

“Mace, stop it. What the hell? Get ahold of yourself,” Lane said, pulling her off to the side. “You lied to me. You have been drinking.”

“Just a little. Just enough to have to deal with,” she turned back towards the group and yelled, “assholes!”

“Stop it!” Lane grabbed her shoulders and shook her gently. “You’re acting like a psycho. This is a disaster. They’re all on their phones, probably talking with their managers.”

“Do you think I give a damn? Because I don’t. They can kiss my ass.” Macy pulled away from Lane. "I’m about to do something I’ve wanted to do for a long, long time.”

“No, no, whatever you’re about to do, stop. Please, I’m begging you, Macy, don’t do this.”

***

Lane’s voice broke her out of her thoughts and she turned to him, blinking back to reality.

"I'm so sorry, Mace." Lane was huddled under the covers on his bunk. “I think I caught a cold from this awful place. I hope you don’t get sick.”

“Don’t worry about me, Lane. Just take care of yourself.” Macy pulled a delicate white sweater over her head, pairing it with her best pair of blue jeans and cute black winter boots.

“You sure you still want to go out?”

She leaned in closer to the mirror and touched up her mascara and eyeliner. “Yeah.”

Lane poked his head out from beneath the covers. “Sure that’s a good idea? You’re going alone with Ryland Quinn...to a
bar?
”

Rolling her eyes, she turned to Lane. “Stop it. I’m just going out to experience his idea of ‘small town life.’ Give me some credit, okay? I’m just trying to do a good job for this assignment. I promise nothing bad will happen.”

Lane collapsed back into the bed again with a groan. “Okay, sorry. Have a good time. Take my notebook if you want.”

It was already dark when Macy slipped out the door and hurried up the path towards the main house with a little more enthusiasm than she would have cared to admit. She spotted Ryland sitting on the bottom step, guitar in his arms, Boomer by his side. She slowed as she approached and could hear the quiet melody he was strumming and the words he was singing softly.

“I feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life, for something that was missing in me, something I didn’t realize I needed. Maybe something I didn’t deserve. And it was killing me—” Ryland stopped suddenly and shot to his feet when he noticed Macy. That goofy lopsided grin appeared as Macy took in the sight of him. He was wearing dark-wash jeans with a crisp, light blue button-down shirt, a pair of old black cowboy boots, and, of course, a cowboy hat.

“Hey there,” he said softly, guitar still in his hand.

“Hey.” She stepped towards the porch and reached down to scratch Boomer behind the ear. “Beautiful song.”

His smile faltered slightly and he looked down at his feet for a
moment before responding. “Thanks, it’s just something that kind of popped into my head recently. Maybe Robbie’s dream will come true and I’ll actually write a song. Hold on just a sec while I put this
inside.”

Macy shifted nervously from foot to foot as she waited for Ryland to appear again.

“Ready?”

“Yep.”

Ryland motioned for Macy to follow him and they made their way through the dark to the large garage that was separate from the rest of the house. He opened the door and ushered her inside. Macy was acutely aware of his hand at the base of her back. She was surprised to see such an old truck sitting in the garage. She had expected some hopped-up Hummer or something.

“We’re taking this?”

He stopped, flashing her a grin. “Yup. You like it?”

“Does it even run?”

He groaned and opened the door, helping her inside. “You’re killing me, Macy. This is a 1953 Chevy that I restored. Believe me, you’re going to love the way this baby purrs.”

The air around them felt electric and heavy, and Macy couldn’t stop watching Ryland out of the corner of her eye. He always carried that masculine, woody smell. She snuck another glance at him out of the corner of her eye and found him watching her closely.

“Ready for a night out on the town in the great state of Montana, Ms. Ferris?”

“I guess it’s now or never, Mr. Quinn.”

He grinned and hit the button to open the large garage door and then turned the key in the ignition, bringing the truck to life. “Let’s go.”

The drive into town was fairly quiet as they sat in comfortable silence, and Macy enjoyed being able to watch Ryland unabashedly while he drove. Soon Ryland parked the truck in the parking lot of a small bar that looked every bit as country as Ryland had promised.

“This is where all the action happens.”

“Looks great.”

Ryland turned off the truck and turned in his seat, grinning at Macy. “I’m sure this place will put all those fancy New York clubs to shame,” he said with a wink.

She bit her lower lip, regarding him. She had never expected to
like Ryland so much, but the more she got to know him, the more she did. She shook her head and opened her door. “Let’s go,
Cowboy.”

He walked beside her through the parking lot, throwing an arm around her shoulder casually. Macy immediately stiffened, and Ryland must have sensed it, because he quickly dropped his arm and rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, offering her a sheepish smile.

“Ladies first,” he said, holding open the door.

They stepped inside and Macy found the bar was exactly what she had anticipated. It was definitely a cowboy bar. Almost everyone sitting in the dark space looked like they had just finished a hard day’s work on the ranch. There was a dance floor, but only one couple occupied it—a little twenty-something brunette with a pink cowboy hat and pink boots who was hanging on her date, a guy about her age. They had their arms wrapped around each other and were swaying with the music.

“Hey there, Ryland!” A rotund man with a greasy apron covering his protruding belly approached and pounded Ryland on the back. “Who’s your friend?” He eyed Macy curiously.

“Hey Phil. This is my friend Macy. Macy, this is Phil. He owns this bar.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said, holding her hand out.

Phil took it and shook it soundly. “First round’s on me.”

They followed Phil to the bar and Macy slid onto a barstool, suddenly realizing that Lane was right. It had been a mistake to come out to a bar with Ryland. The truth was, she had been really looking forward to going out with Ryland and hadn’t really thought it out. Her sponsor would shake her head if she could see Macy now. She tucked a chunk of hair behind her ear uncomfortably and snuck a glance at Ryland. His attention was on Phil.

“Getcha a couple cold ones, Ryland?”

“Please,” he said grinning and then turned to Macy with a shrug. “Hope that’s alright.”

Macy almost told him it was fine, but she couldn’t do that. One beer, as innocent as it may have seemed, could start her backsliding fast. She couldn’t risk that. It was asinine that she was sitting in a bar at all. Careless mistake.

“Actually, just a glass of water would be great right now.”

Ryland dismissed her comment with a wave of his hand. “No way. You can’t come to a country bar without having at least one cheap beer. I promise the next round you can order a frou-frou New York City cocktail, alright?”

“No, no, um...actually…” Suddenly, she felt flushed with embarrassment and was sure that the tone of her skin reflected that.

Ryland was watching her carefully. “What is it?”

“I’m...um…”
Oh God, I’m going to say it. I’m about to tell Ryland Quinn I’m an alcoholic.
“I’m sober.”

Ryland’s mouth fell open and he stared at her for a few beats.

“Here you go, bud.” Phil showed up right at that moment and set down two cold bottles of beer.

“Um, on second thought, these people look mighty thirsty for another round.” Ryland snatched up the two bottles and jumped off his barstool, setting the beers down on the nearby table. “Enjoy,” he said with a tip of his hat before returning to his seat. “Hey, Phil, we could actually go for a couple cokes right now.”

“You sure, Ryland?”

“Absolutely.”

Macy was beyond mortified. She crossed her arms and placed them on the bar top, her gaze downward. Her heart hammered away
in her chest as she wondered what Ryland must be thinking about her.

“How long?”

Macy turned to Ryland and found him looking at her intently. “Fifty-four days.”

His eyebrows rose in surprise. “That’s not very long.”

She smiled humorlessly. “Feels like an eternity though. Listen, you can drink around me. It’s one of those things that I just have to deal with. It won’t bother me. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I’m not even sure why I told you—”

“I’m glad you did,” he said quickly. He looked down at his hands. “Does... you being sober have anything to do with those scars on your wrists?”

Macy blanched and shoved her hands into her lap. “I guess you could say that.”

“You want to tell me about it?”

“Not really.” She braved a peek at Ryland. His jaw was set and his eyes intense. But what she expected to see in his face was missing. Pity, disgust maybe. Instead, he simply looked curious... and concerned. Honestly concerned. Something she had yearned to feel from Logan instead of the usual resentment. “Maybe.”

“I’m all ears.”