What a Man Needs (6 page)

She got a sexy grin from Patrick. “Tell me more.”

A
t ten that morning, Carrie Martin took one of the last seats in the back of the Healthy Living Clinic auditorium. The large crowd was buzzing with excitement as it waited for Dr. Richard Strong to start the seminar. Even though she knew that Richie wouldn't recognize her if she stood in front of him, her heart was pounding with anticipation.

Carrie's appearance had drastically changed over the years. There was nothing left of that shy, insecure girl he'd once known. She was proud of
her new looks, her trim, curvy body. She'd gotten a new hairstyle and added highlights, even changed her eye color to a dazzling blue with contacts. No, she wasn't the same woman Richie had left in Florida all those years ago. She was educated and had a career she loved—teaching. She'd married again to her sweet late husband Ralph, but best of all, she had a wonderful son, Jason.

Suddenly Dr. Richie walked out onto the stage and the audience erupted in applause. Carrie sat up straighter to get a better look at the latest fitness guru. He was dressed in a charcoal custom-tailored suit, snowy-white shirt and a subtle deep maroon tie. His silver-streaked dark hair was styled to perfection. His magnetic personality showed as he walked to the front row and shook hands.

Carrie felt the tightness around her heart and quickly pushed back the feeling. She had to keep emotions out of this. Richard Strong had a lot to answer for. Twenty years, to be exact. She might not deserve any explanation, but their son did.

Even over the cheers, she could hear the ringing of her cell phone. She quickly pulled it from her bag as she climbed over people to leave the room. Once in the hall she hurried to a quiet corner and pushed the button.

“Hello,” she answered, knowing it could only
be either her son or the restaurant, La Grenouille Dorée, where she'd worked as a hostess since coming to Portland.

“Mom,” Jason spoke.

Carrie put her hand over her other ear so she could hear. “Jason, is something wrong?”

“That's what I was about to ask you. Mom, I wish you'd come home.”

Carrie smiled sadly, hearing the worry in her son's voice. He'd gone though so much during his nineteen years.

“Jason, we talked about this before. It's something I need to do.”

She heard his long sigh. “If you're doing this for me, don't. I don't need another father.”

 

Cynthia was so in tune with her mission of trotting Daisy around the corral, she hadn't realized that the morning was gone. She'd been in the saddle most of it, and doing a pretty good job with the mare.

“I think you need to take a break,” Patrick suggested while she continued around the arena.

“Not yet.” She couldn't hide the disappointment in her voice.

She had worked through each and every command until the horse responded to her with ease.
And she was far past walking the horse. She could trot now.

“I'm just getting it right.” There was so much to remember. She could feel the muscles in her legs tightening, and her arms were tired. She wasn't used to this kind of exercise, but she loved it. And she found she loved riding. Who would have thought it?

In the center of the corral, Patrick rested his hands on his hips. “If you don't stop, you'll be so sore you won't be able to sit in the saddle tomorrow.”

Hearing his warning, Cynthia pulled back on Daisy's reins until she stopped. Patrick came over to help her dismount.

“I can do it,” she said.

He nodded. “If you say so.”

Cynthia slipped her right foot out of the stirrup and swung it over the back of the horse. She released the other boot and began to slide off Daisy. Suddenly the ground seemed a long way off and when she finally landed, whatever strength was left in her legs suddenly gave out.

Patrick grabbed her around the waist and held her up as she started to sway. He pulled her against him so she wouldn't crumble into the dirt.

“I told you, you overworked this morning,” he said against her ear.

“I guess I am a little tired,” she admitted, much too aware of his large hands on her.

His eyes grew dark. “Do you think you can stand on your own?”

“I guess there's only one way to find out.” And she slipped out of his hold.

“I want you to rest this afternoon,” he told her.

Regretfully, she moved away. Her legs were a little shaky, but she wasn't about to admit it. “I don't feel too bad. After some lunch and a couple of ibuprofen, I'll be ready for the afternoon.”

“You can't do it all in one day, Cyndi. Your body isn't used to riding, and that bottom of yours is going to be sore as it is. So go up to the house and take a long soak in the tub, then rest. I'll take care of Daisy.”

He started off with her horse, but she went after him. “I know what my body can and can not do, and I want to ride this afternoon.”

Irritation flashed across his face. “You don't always get your way, Ms. Reynolds. Not around here anyway. You may want to ride, but I won't be there to help you. As I told you before, I have a ranch to run. We'll continue instruction tomorrow morning.” His stern gaze held hers a moment, then he turned and led Daisy to the barn.

Cynthia kicked at some loose dirt. Who did he
think he was, telling her she couldn't ride? Well, she wasn't going to let him get away with ditching her again. She worked hard not to limp as she made her way toward the house. She would be back, just as soon as she rested.

 

The long, hot bath had done nothing to ease her anger. She stepped into a pair of sweatpants and groaned, feeling her sore, tired muscles less tense, but still painful. After pulling on a shirt, she wiped the moisture off the mirror, then brushed her damp hair into a ponytail. She then added moisturizer to her face, gloss to her dry lips, and noticed that her nose was sunburned.

No wonder Patrick had sent her away. She thought back to her lesson and how he'd stood in the corral, directing, encouraging her all morning. He never took a break, drank only an occasional bottle of water, and he'd been in the sun as long as she had.

So what had happened? Why did she feel as if she'd been dismissed and sent up to her room?

“Well, I can't waste time trying to figure you out, Mr. Tanner. If I can't ride, I have plenty of other things to do.”

Cynthia gathered her dirty clothes and returned to her room. First thing, she picked up her cell
phone and made a call to her agent to find out the status of the movie. She got good news. The director of
Cheyenne
was interested in having her read for the female lead. Cynthia needed to be back in L.A. in a week to audition for the part.

With renewed energy, Cynthia turned on the portable cassette player and started Dr. Richie's exercise routine. She knew the director was going to be looking at more than just her riding and acting ability. She had to look good in jeans, too.

Halfway through her high kicks, there was a knock on the door. Breathing hard, Cynthia went to see who it was, hoping Patrick was on the other side so she could slam the door in his face. But it was Nora, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt that read Tanner Ranch.

“Nora, I didn't know you'd be here. Do you need help with dinner?”

She shook her head. “I'm sorry to disturb you, but we need your help with something else. In ten minutes we're going to be invaded by about a dozen kids.”

“Oh, really?”

“Twice a month Patrick and I work with boys and girls from a shelter in Portland. They've had it pretty rough and they really need this time with the horses. I hate to ask, but how do you feel about
helping out? It'd be just putting them on horses and walking them around the corral.”

“Sounds like something I can handle,” Cynthia said, realizing now why Patrick couldn't spend time with her this afternoon. “I'll be down as soon as I can.”

“I knew I could count on you.” Nora smiled, then handed her a T-shirt. “Now you're official.”

 

By two o'clock, Patrick had just finished a quick sandwich as the shelter's bus drove through the gate and stopped in front of the barn. Happy voices filled the air as the kids filed off. His attention stayed glued to each child who'd made it out today. Many of them had been coming here for almost a year, ever since Nora had suggested he start the riding program.

It was the best thing he'd ever done, bringing a dozen kids from the shelter out here twice a month. They came from abusive homes and were living in a children's shelter because there wasn't any room in foster care. He wished they could come more often, but with just himself, Nora and Forest, he couldn't handle any more.

“Is he here?” Nora asked.

Patrick glanced at his sister as she appeared beside him. He knew she was wondering if Davy Cooke was coming back today.

It had been last spring when the seven-year-old boy had stepped off the bus for the first time. Dozens of bruises were still evident on his small body from his mother and her boyfriend having used him as a punching bag. Patrick had trouble controlling his anger, ready to deal out his own brand of vengeance to the adults responsible. It had been the shelter counselor who'd told him how to handle Davy with kindness and love. That hadn't been easy, either.

At first, Davy had been angry and unresponsive, but when he came around the horses, things began to change. Still, Davy's biggest problem was that he challenged the rules, and as a result, he lost privileges. A visit to the ranch was a privilege.

He hadn't been allowed to come to the ranch for a month.

A curly-haired blond boy stepped off the bus. He was in jeans that were too big and a faded T-shirt, but his wide smile erased the shabby look. The boy ran up to Patrick.

“Hi, Patrick. Hi, Nora. I got to come back.” Big brown eyes accented his freckled face.

“I can see that,” Patrick said. He gripped the boy by the shoulders. “So I take it you're going to behave today,” he said in a stern voice.

Davy glanced over his shoulder at one of the
counselors. “I will,” he promised. “Do I get to ride Daisy?”

Patrick knew the boy loved the seasoned mare. Maybe too much. He also knew how healing an animal could be for a kid, especially when it was all he had. Daisy had given a lot of love to kids.

“You're in luck today, Davy, because that's who I gave you.”

 

Cynthia came out of the house ten minutes later, eager to help. She saw the group of kids standing by the corral fence. Their age looked to be between seven and twelve years old. The high pitch of their voices told her of their excitement.

A cute little boy came up to her. “Who are you?”

“I'm Cyndi. I'm staying here for a while. What's your name?”

“I'm Davy. I'm going to ride Daisy.”

She smiled. “You're pretty lucky, she's a nice horse.”

“She's my favorite.” Davy smiled, revealing a gap in front of his mouth where a tooth had been. The boy studied her with questioning eyes. “Are you going to help us ride, 'cause we hafta have adult superbision.”

“Well, in that case, I guess I'd better help out.”

Cynthia looked toward the corral to see Nora leading two horses out of the barn.

“Cyndi, will you go and saddle Daisy?” She smiled down at the boy. “For Davy.”

“See, I told ya,” the boy cheered.

“Okay, you stay right here and I'll be back as soon as I can.”

It took Cynthia a little longer than usual because she wanted to double-check the tack. Then she led Daisy out to the corral where she found Patrick and Forest at the far end on a high wooden platform, helping one of the boys onto a horse.

The children wore helmets and stood in a line patiently, waiting for their turn on one of the six mounts.

Kevin came out of the barn, leading Ranger. He smiled. “So Patrick roped you into volunteering.”

“Actually it was Nora. But I'm happy to help.” She tugged Daisy in behind another horse, waiting to get to the stand and Davy. Patrick walked up beside her. His hat was cocked low on his head, and he was wearing a Tanner Ranch T-shirt the same as she had on. It just happened to look so fine covering his muscular chest and wide shoulders.

His voice drew her back. “Think you can handle a seven-year-old?”

She nodded, knowing that he was entrusting her with a big responsibility. “That is, if you just want me to walk Daisy around the corral.”

He finally smiled. “Just don't let Davy talk you into anything more.”

“I can handle him.”

He gave her the once-over, causing her pulse to race. “No doubt.” He tugged on Daisy's reins to bring the horse to the stand where Davy was waiting.

“Hi, Daisy,” the boy said as he petted the horse's forehead. “I get to ride you.” The mare bobbed her head, making Davy giggle.

Patrick helped the boy climb into the saddle, then he buckled the safety strap and sent them off.

Both Forest and Nora were leading two horses with young children. They were all moving lazily around the corral. Kevin had an older boy named Mike on Ranger, teaching him the different commands.

“Go faster, Cyndi. I want to go faster.” Davy started kicking the horse's sides, causing Daisy to pick up her pace. Cynthia quickly took charge and pulled back on the reins.

“No, you don't, young man. We can't go fast because I can't go fast.”

“But Patrick can make his horse go real fast.”

“I'm not Patrick. I'm just learning to ride like you are.”

“You are? How's come?”

“Because I wanted to learn.” She patted Daisy's neck. “It's fun.”

“Patrick says when us kids get really good he'll take us on a trail ride.” He took a hand off the saddle horn and pointed toward the mountain range. “Up there. We're going to build a campfire. Just like real cowboys. And I get to wear a cowboy hat and boots.”