Alex's green shirt was unbuttoned just enough to give a teasing view of his chest. Ten minutes of peripheral staring into our lunch, and he still hadn't noticed I was stealing glances and biting my lip over how nice he looked.
Alex was undeniably gorgeous. The waitress obviously agreed, practically drooling every time she came back to our table. I was having a hard time fighting the urge to tell her not to stare at other women's men. But he wasn't my man. Just like Jesse wasn't.
This was starting to feel more fucked up by the day. I decided I was going to need a girls' night with Selena and Kacey soon to discuss the tornado of boy issues that had recently begun whirling around in my head. On one hand, enjoying two men's company sounded like a phenomenal idea, considering I'd been all kinds of sexually frustrated for the past year, and I was still single, so they couldn't accuse me of cheating on either of them. But on the other hand, realistically speaking, I knew this couldn't go on forever, and someone could potentially get hurt in the end. I'd realized that when Alex had called me while I was with Jesse. How long could I keep hiding them from each other?
I glanced around the table, hoping nobody could tell what I was thinking. Selena knew me too well, though. She gave me a side-eye glance and I knew we'd be having that chat soon. I only hoped she'd be a good best friend and actually help me work through the problem, rather than egging me on to continue down this road. I knew she meant well. She only wanted me to have fun and feel better. But now that I was getting to know Jesse and Alex, I was seriously considering dating both of them, and I knew I couldn't do that at the same time. I would have to choose one or the other and it could get messy, especially since I didn't want anybody to get hurt.
We all looked underdressed, even for lunch at Chardonnay. Almost every other customer in the restaurant was wearing a business suit or dress, and I was wishing my red button-up and jeans would magically morph into something fancy and professional. Alex didn't seem to mind that he was the only person in the entire place wearing a hat, though.
For the majority of our time at the restaurant we'd been discussing my New York Times contest entry, trying to determine which story I should use. I was starting to think I wouldn't be able to decide on anything in time, considering it was Monday, and Tuesday was the deadline to enter.
"You should use the piece you did on ballet," Selena commented, taking a bite of her glazed mushroom chicken which looked so good, she almost didn't want to eat it.
Two years prior, I had written a story on various popular art forms. I'd included ballet as part of the list. I'd gone to local ballet schools and shows, watching for hours over the course of three weeks as the elegant dancers rehearsed and performed. I had never been a fan of ballet, really. It usually made me want to fall asleep. But when actually studying the art of ballet, it was kind of amazing to me to get lost in their world of classical music and graceful gestures. Each ballerina was perfectly poised. Even the beginners made minimal experience appear as though they'd had years of professional practice. It was like witnessing an amateur composer morph into Mozart in a matter of minutes. Almost effortless, yet so carefully conducted.
"I'll go back and read over it," I said, waving my fork as I spoke. "I might have to make a few changes. I don't know how I feel about that one. I want something that's going to really grab their attention, ya know?"
Selena shrugged. "It got my attention. I thought it was really good. I even saw The Nutcracker twice after reading that."
Really good didn't seem good enough, though.
"Maybe I should just write something totally new." I put my head in my hands, groaning.
Alex, who had been fairly quiet so far, spoke up. "I have an idea."
"You have my attention."
"Why don't we go back to the ranch tonight and brainstorm on it?" he suggested, though I assumed he probably had ulterior motives. "Maybe I could help. Besides, you could probably use a night away from everything to hear yourself think. An open field with horses is a great spot to write. Trust me."
He did make a good point. It would benefit me not to sit at home after work, sulking about it and overstressing myself. I didn't want to end up with something less than desirable to submit. I wasn't sure if I would be able to concentrate at the ranch, though.
"Let me think about it when we get back to the office," I said, proceeding to cut my bacon-wrapped filet into bite-sized chunks.
The remainder of lunch consisted mostly of Selena quizzing Alex about his family, his taste in music, and his favorite sports. I had a feeling she'd do the same to Jesse if I introduced them. She was the most curious person I'd ever met and it often got her into trouble. Go figure, she'd opt for a career in journalism.
I learned that Alex's mom used to be a gourmet chef when he was a child growing up in the suburbs of Austin, Texas. I remembered Mrs. Stephens telling me that she'd taught him everything he knows about cooking. They were obviously both very talented in the kitchen.
Alex said he enjoyed country music more than any other genre, which came as no surprise to us. He told Selena and I about the Shania Twain concert he'd attended when he was really young that got him hooked on country. His cheeks flushed when Selena teased him, saying that the main reason he'd gone to that concert was because he thought Shania Twain was hot. He certainly didn't deny the accusation.
I found out his favorite sport was baseball. He'd been a pitcher in high school. I got a fantastic mental image of Alex in a baseball uniform and I wondered just how many of the girls at his high school had daydreamed about being his girlfriend – or at least going on a date with him. I told myself I'd have to look and see sometime if Mrs. Stephens had any photos lying around of Alex in his baseball uniform.
I spent the last few hours of work going through a montage of material, most of it ending up in the floor. I called that the "denial pile."
Eventually I got fed up and decided to call it a day and head home. Alex had already left by the time I walked out to the parking garage. I drove home, trying to distract myself with the radio turned up loud, but to no avail. Once I got home, I was still full from our big lunch and didn't feel like making dinner. I settled for a pint of ice cream instead.
The longer I sat on my couch alone, the more my thoughts beckoned me to call up Jesse or Alex. Jesse was still out of town, but I could probably vent to him over the phone. I kept picturing the Stephens' ranch and the horses, though. It was so beautiful. I had to agree with Alex that the field where the horses roamed probably would be a great place to relax and write. I assumed he said that based on experience. I imagined him sitting in the field, writing at sunset.
I finally called up Alex, temptation to take his advice winning.
"Hey." I smiled when he answered. "I guess I thought I'd give your idea from lunch a chance. Are you busy?"
He chuckled softly. "Nah, I'm not busy. Want me to come pick you up?"
I decided it would be best if I drove myself, not feeling like repeating the previous week's events, having to hitch a ride to work with Alex in the same clothes as the night before.
"I think I'll just drive myself," I said, hoping I could remember how to get there.
I threw a change of clothes into my bag just in case I ended up spending the night again and not having time to go back home before work. I headed for Alex's house, attempting to remember which direction to take and which road went where. I had to call him back halfway there, forgetting which county road took me to the ranch. I was a little embarrassed that I had to ask him for directions, but I successfully reached my destination, nonetheless.
"You made it," he smiled, pulling me into a hug when I got out of the car. "Do you want dinner?"
Despite my earlier lack of interest in food, my stomach growled at the mention of dinner.
"If it's not too much trouble," I replied sheepishly.
"It's not."
We went inside where Mrs. Stephens was happily cooking up a storm.
"Oh, hello dear!" she grinned, awkwardly hugging me while trying not to get the food that clung to her hands on my clothes. "I'm just making dinner for the girls. My book club is coming over tonight. Do you kids want me to whip something up?"
I started to say something, but Alex answered. "I've got it, mom. Just do your thing. We'll be out back."
Did that mean he was going to make dinner later?
"Out back?" I asked as we walked through the living room toward the back of the house.
He opened a wooden door that lead to the back porch. "Yeah."
The porch was glassed in with large panel windows. There were several pieces of rustic looking furniture, along with a fire pit. It was so cozy. There was a broad view of the snow-covered field where the horses stood. I could see the stable off to the left.
"This is gorgeous," I complimented and sat down in one of the wooden chairs.
Alex took a seat beside me, tossing his legs over the arm of the chair. He'd changed into a blue and black plaid flannel and ditched the Chevy cap. He looked so relaxed. It made me want to sit on his lap.
"My parents had this done." He gestured to the glass panels that had been erected around the porch. "It sure makes it comfortable if I want to sit outside without freezing my ass off. It stays pretty warm in here in the winter."
"What are their names?" I referred to the horses walking nearby.
Alex looked out over the field with a charming smile. It seemed that his eyes lit up anytime the horses were mentioned.
"The two paints are Boomerang and Spirit. That white one is Lightning. The brown one is Shiloh. The black one is Black Jack, of course. And that one..." He pointed to an appaloosa wandering along the fence line. "Is Beeswax."
I couldn't contain my laughter over the last horse's name.
"Beeswax?" I struggled to speak between giggles.
Alex smiled ear-to-ear. "He was my grandpa's horse. Grandpa wanted to name him something funny because he's such a character. He's got a hell of a personality."
"Were all these horses your grandpa's?" I asked, finally able to control my laughter.
He shook his head. "No, I got Black Jack last year, and Spirit was my dad's horse. The others have always kind of been everyone's. Do you want to go meet them?"
I wasn't excited about the idea of going back outside in the cold, but I didn't want to seem rude. Those horses were obviously a big part of Alex's life and if he wanted to introduce me to them, then I'd happily grin and bear the frigid temperatures with him.
"I'd love to."
Alex fetched me a heavier jacket and we trekked out to the field through the eight-inch-deep snow. It was a gloomy evening with the clouds blocking out any ability to see stars. We reached the fence and Beeswax came trotting up to see us. At first, he seemed a little uncomfortable with me petting him, but he warmed up to me pretty fast, stepping closer and rubbing his head on my arm. The other horses were more standoffish with an unfamiliar face around. Lightning let me pet him once before quickly galloping off.
"I have to put them inside for the night," Alex told me, hopping over the fence.
I watched as he led four of the horses into the stable, but every time Alex attempted to get Beeswax out of the field, he evaded, running circles around him in the snow. Black Jack was the only other horse still in the field with Beeswax and he, too, was apparently more interested in playing in the snow than saying goodnight. Black Jack was calmer, though, and stopped to get some attention from Alex. The jet black mustang was absolutely breathtaking, especially up close.
"Hop over!" Alex waved me over, petting Black Jack's mane.
I wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea, having never been that close to horses before, but I went ahead and climbed over the fence. The two horses ran the opposite direction, appearing to play with each other. They ran back and forth through the field as Alex and I leaned against the fence watching them.
"They're beautiful."
I admired them gracefully making their way through the pasture, manes and tails blowing in the chilly wind. They resembled an oil painting.
Alex nodded, resting his arm behind me on the fence.
"They are." He smiled as he watched them kick up snow. "My dad would have loved this. He always loved watching them run. Said there was something magical about it. I didn't understand what he meant back then, but I do now."
His jaw tightened at the mention of his father and I knew something had happened. I wanted to ask about him, but it wasn't any of my business and I didn't know how Alex would react to the question. I kept my mouth shut and continued admiring the two stallions gallivanting through the snow.
"He died when I was in college..." Alex muttered after a few minutes of silence, a flash of grief playing across his face. "He was on a ski trip with my uncle and there was an avalanche. Sometimes I wonder if I just took his presence in my life for granted. I wish I'd paid more attention to the things he'd tried to teach me."
I placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, leaning in closer to him. "I'm sorry, Alex."
He shook his head as if to dismiss the conversation. We stood there awhile longer watching the horses until they finally got tired of running around and Alex led them to the stable.
I'd been captivated by the beauty of the horses. I almost didn't want them go to in for the night. It was so cold out, but I wanted to keep watching them. It was a beautiful thing the way nature could have that effect on you.
"These horses have gotten me through so much," Alex mentioned as we walked back to the house. "When my dad died, I was devastated. I felt like I'd lost everything. To a nineteen-year-old kid, that's the end of the world. I took a semester off and started spending a lot of time with Spirit and my grandpa. Then a couple years ago, I lost my grandpa, too. At the time, I was working for a paper in Georgia while I tried to finish my degree. I ended up quitting both my job and school, and moving back up here to help my mom out. Every time I see Beeswax, I can feel my grandpa's happiness. I can almost feel his presence. That horse was his life. Hell, I think he might've loved him more than he loved my grandma."
I didn't know how to respond. It was a lot to digest at once. I felt terrible for Alex. I couldn't imagine what it would feel like to go through that.
"He was my mom's dad," Alex continued, trekking up the path to the front porch. "Losing her husband and father within a couple years of each other took a huge toll on her. She started missing mortgage payments and having a hard time taking care of the horses by herself. Finally, the bank threatened to foreclose if she missed another payment. I decided to put my life on hold to come up here and help her run the ranch. Luckily, I was able to get Now You Know's attention and they gave me a decent job. It wasn't as enjoyable as working for a newspaper, but it paid the bills. Slowly, but surely, my mom's regained a lot of happiness since I've been back."
It broke my heart to hear about the Stephens' hardships. I respected Alex so much for caring about his mom enough that he was willing to push his dreams aside to help her out. There weren't too many people like Alex left in the world. Everybody could take a few lessons from him.
"Honey, did you put the horses up?" Mrs. Stephens called from the dining room when we reentered the house.
Alex helped me slip his jacket off my shoulders and hung it on the coat rack. "Yes ma'am, I did."
Mrs. Stephens had a group of about nine other women in her dining room, all talking and laughing, discussing recipes from the cookbook they'd all been reading. It sounded like they were having a great time.
"Ladies," she smiled, placing her hands on my shoulders, presenting me to her friends. "This is Kate. She's Alex's friend. They work together at that magazine I was telling y'all about. The one he just started working at. Isn't she just precious?"
She introduced me to the group who all smiled and said hello to me. I acknowledged Mrs. Stephens' friends with a general wave and smile and said hi.
I felt awkward being introduced to her book club, however, everyone seemed really nice.
"Alex, there's leftovers in the kitchen if y'all want some." Mrs. Stephens smiled and patted me on the back.
Alex and I wandered into the kitchen where two plates of leftovers sat on the counter.
"And to think, I was going to order pizza," he chuckled.
Pizza sounded really good, but I didn't want to be rude and not eat what his mom had fixed.
"I really liked meeting the horses," I said, taking a seat on the same barstool I'd occupied the last time I'd been in their kitchen.
Alex looked up from his plate with a gleeful shine in his vibrant eyes and my heart skipped a couple beats at the sight of his breathtaking smile.
"I'm glad you did. I think they liked you, too," he said softly and paused a moment before finishing his statement. "I think my grandpa would've liked you."
He was trying to avoid me noticing the painful hint in his eyes, but it was there, watering down that usually vivid shade of green.
"I wish I could've met him," I finally said, hoping my words didn't hit a nerve. "Beeswax obviously adores you."
I was relieved when he smiled. I didn't want to say anything that might hurt or bring back painful memories.
"He's helped me get through a lot."
He ran a hand through his hair, pushing his sandy bangs back.
"Alex?" I swallowed my food along with the hard lump of nerves in my throat that was quickly forming at the thought of my next statement.
"Hmm?"
"That New York Times contest... What would you think if I wrote a new piece about horses?"
"Horses?" His brows furrowed together like the idea sounded weird.
"I was thinking about what you told me... how the horses have helped you." I tried to explain what was going through my mind. "What if I wrote a story about how horses can be... What's the right word? Remedial?"
Alex's expression was indecipherable. I couldn't tell if he liked or despised the idea. I hoped I hadn't said something that offended him. After hearing the way he'd talked about the horses helping him get through tough times, it sounded like a great thing to write about. I wouldn't do it unless he was okay with it, though.
He cleared his throat, taking a sip from a bottle of ginger ale that had been sitting on the counter beside him.
"It's a good idea." His voice came in a mumble. "I think I would have to give you a little more information on how they helped, but I do like the thought."
Thank god.
I was so relieved to hear that he didn't hate my suggestion. The last thing I wanted to do was make him feel bad or make things uncomfortable between us. In the past, I'd had experiences with suggesting something similar, and although my intentions were good and innocent, the other party had been offended by the idea because it was a difficult or painful subject. They would have some harsh words to say to me, and I assumed that was their way of venting – taking their anger out on me because I was an easy target. I didn't think Alex would react that way, but I also didn't know him very well. I was still testing the waters.
"We can go work on that after we finish eating, if you want," he offered. "We can go back to the porch so my mom and her friends' laughing doesn't disturb us."
It occurred to me that I was going to be heading home after midnight unless I spent the night again. I was already starting to get tired, but I didn't want to leave just yet. I was enjoying Alex's company. Plus, I really didn't want to pass up his help. 11:59PM on Tuesday was the deadline and I didn't like the thought of waking up on Tuesday morning without a completed story to send in. I didn't even have a rough draft at this point.
"Alright," I agreed.
Alex lead me back to the porch, grabbing a pen and notepad on the way. We sat down across from each other. It was dark outside by that time and I could barely see the stable for the lack of moonlight.
"I guess I should tell you about everything with my dad first," Alex said when I told him I wasn't sure where to begin.
I started taking notes as I listened to him speak. His voice became softer and gentler when talking about his dad. He told me about how his uncle had returned home and delivered the devastating news. Hearing about it made me tear up. Alex talked about how much he rode Spirit for months after losing his dad. He described it as being therapeutic. He'd go for a ride out into the wilderness and end up several miles from home just taking in the scenery and breathing in the fresh air, trying to clear his head. He said he talked to the horses about everything, telling them all his secrets and frustrations. They couldn't talk back, but he believed they listened, and it felt good to have someone to talk to.
As I took in everything he had to say, I started to envision what it would be like to live on a ranch and be around horses all the time. I imagined watching Alex ride the horses through the field and possibly riding them myself once my nerves allowed me to saddle up...