Saddle Up, City Girl Sneak Preview…
READ ON FOR A SNEAK PEEK AT CHAPTERS ONE & TWO OF MY NEW BOOK SADDLE UP, CITY GIRL!
Chapter 1
Lauren
“Lauren! Lauren! Eyes over here!”
Photographers shouted my name as I stood in the designated red carpet area in front of a backdrop. Shoulders back, hand on left hip, right knee bent slightly—I knew the drill. After being a reluctant celebrity for five years, I may have had the pose perfected, but I still didn’t enjoy doing it, especially not when my “husband” had his arm around me, pulling me against his side. In my head, I counted to ninety. A minute and a half was an acceptable amount of time before walking away. Counting also gave me somewhere to go in my head so I wouldn’t obsess about whether I had lipstick on my teeth or a stray chin hair only a high resolution camera would catch. Or the fact that my husband was touching me in places that felt too intimate now that we were estranged. Maybe if I’d experienced fame when I was a young woman, I’d be better at it by fifty-two.
My husband, Frederic, or Freddy, as the world knew him, dazzled the photographers with his ultra white veneers and chiseled jawline. God, how handsome I thought he was before I knew what ugliness lay beneath the shiny surface. Good looks definitely weren’t enough to make up for the deficiencies in his character, but most of the world didn’t know the true Freddy or the real me. They saw what was in front of the camera—a picture perfect middle-aged couple attending a fancy schmancy event in New York City. Lucky us.
As we left the press area and walked into the main event in my sister’s opulent new hair salon, he lowered his head, still smiling, and whispered in my ear, “I detest this bullshit.”
At least we had that in common.
People might think he was whispering sweet nothings, but no, we didn’t do that kind of thing anymore. Hadn’t exchanged loving words in more than a decade. To maintain the charade, I gave my head a toss and laughed quietly, as if we were sharing an intimate joke. Maybe I’d become as fake as he was.
“You’ll put up with this dog and pony show if you want to get your next check from me.” I slid my hand into his as I spoke. He had the skin of a man who moisturized religiously. “Just two hours of your time is all I’m asking for this evening. Then you’re free to go out and carouse and do whatever it is you do when you’re in New York.”
When we legally separated three and a half years ago, state law required me to continue supporting Freddy because supposedly he’d been the primary caregiver for our two children instead of working outside the home. In reality, we’d always employed a nanny so Freddy could parent when he damn well felt like it and use the rest of his free time to pursue his sailing hobby, as well as beautiful young women he met along the way. I worked my ass off to afford the lifestyle we enjoyed, and what did all my long hours at the office and lost time with my sons get me? A huge monthly alimony payment to him. On top of what I had to pay Freddy after the separation, I offered to throw in a hefty bonus if he agreed to two stipulations:
1. Keep our separation a secret.
2. Attend at least two public events with me per year.
It wasn’t a bad gig for a European playboy, one who was tangentially related to royalty and was spending his fifties gambling, sailing, and sleeping with women half his age. Somehow, we’d managed to keep our marital issues on the down low, probably because he did his partying in places like Ibiza and San Tropez, not Manhattan.
The party I was forcing him to attend was incredibly important to me. My twin sister Tori and I were co-owners of a high-end matchmaking business called Ms. Match, which, five years ago, spawned a reality show of the same name. Tori was the company’s head matchmaker and star of our TV show, while I preferred to stay behind the scenes as our chief financial officer, making as few on-screen appearances as possible.
As if Ms. Match weren’t time consuming enough for her, Tori had recently started a salon with her friend Jenna, and now they’d added a haircare line to their empire. Tonight they were having a celebration at their salon in SoHo to launch their new product line, and if there was one person who always got my support and loyalty, it was my sister, which meant Freddy was going to show up for her whether he liked it or not.
We walked into the salon, and Tori greeted me with kisses on both cheeks.
“Hey, Lolo! You look beautiful.” Like the rest of my family, she still used my childhood nickname.
“So do you.” I looked her up and down, taking in her fierce tangerine colored body-con dress that accentuated her curves and contrasted with her long dark hair that fell almost to her waist. “That dress is absolutely gorgeous on you.”
She loved bright colors and bold prints, and I was wearing my favorite shade too—classic black. We hadn’t dressed similarly since my mother lost the battle to pick out our clothing for kindergarten.
“Thank you so much for coming tonight.” Tori turned to Freddy. “Hello, Frederic. You’re looking well-rested, as always.”
Freddy ignored her dig. “Bonsoir, Tori. You look fantastique in that dress.”
She did look amazing. Even with the stresses that came from running multiple business ventures, she’d never been happier or more radiant in her life. Some of that had to do with her boyfriend Nick, the first man she’d ever dated who was actually worthy of her. He was a childhood neighbor and friend with whom she’d reconnected last Christmas, all thanks to me, and they’d been inseparable ever since. Now they were contemplating getting engaged, and it was possible my sister would soon become the stepmother to his three teenaged daughters. For Tori, life was always about new adventures, while I was the pragmatic twin, less prone to taking risks or walking the untrodden path. At fifty-two, I could see the road ahead of me stretching all the way to the retirement villa, and there was nary a bend or bump in it. The scenery was the same for miles and miles…
God, I needed a drink.
Reluctantly, Tori accepted kisses on both cheeks from my “husband” because, although she despised him for cheating on me, she went along with our deception for my sake. The only other people who knew about our faux marriage were our brother Rocco, his husband Jamison, my two adult sons, and the divorce attorneys who wrote the separation agreement. My mother was aware Freddy and I largely lived on different continents but she never asked why, which was fine by me.
“Freddy,” Tori said, “since you never like to pay for anything, you’ll be happy to know there’s an open bar this evening.” She squeezed my shoulder. “Grab a champagne and say hi to Rocco and Jamison. They want to see you.” She pointed toward our brother and his spouse, who were both dressed in dapper suits.
“Will do,” I said. “And congratulations, the place looks amazing.”
“Thanks, sweetie. I have to mingle and promote. Catch you later?”
“Of course.” I blew her a kiss. “Knock ‘em dead, sis.”
Before opening the salon, Jenna and Tori gave it a complete transformation from a rather grim discount mattress store to what was now a gleaming vision in white and gold with soft pink and coral accents. Clearly, Tori had selected her dress color to match the salon’s decor, which was typical of her relentless attention to detail. She and Jenna had gone big in the literal sense when they designed the place—bold light fixtures descended from the ceilings like clouds, oversized velvet settees anchored the vast waiting area, and huge gilt-framed mirrors bounced light around the room. If I’d placed all of that in the salon it would have looked like a bordello, not a feminine, playful retreat from the sharp edges of the city. I had no doubt they’d book up months, if not years, ahead.
Seeing my sister promoting her new business made me think about our beginning as partners and how far we’d come. Fifteen years ago, Tori asked me to help her start up a small, elite matchmaking service that focused on an extremely wealthy clientele. We opened the doors of Ms. Match with a bank loan, a strong work ethic, and not much else. Now we were worth millions, and Tori was still expanding her brand. We’d recently announced that this would be the final season for our TV show because we both felt it had run its course, and then we received an unexpected offer—a media company wanted our entire catalog for their streaming service. My personal life was nothing to brag about, but professionally, I was a huge success. After Freddy and I parted ways, I decided you can’t have it all, and I should stop missing the things I lacked—like a romantic relationship—and be grateful for my privileged life. Gratitude was easier to come by when I didn’t have to deal with my husband in person.
I plucked a champagne flute off of a caterer’s passing tray and took a fortifying gulp.
“That champagne is probably cheap garbage.” Freddy perused the room. “And who did the interior design? It looks like a little girl’s birthday party exploded in here.”
I ground my teeth so hard that my jaw popped. “You should mingle on your own.”
He huffed like a petulant child. “You dragged me here and now you don’t even want to talk to me? What’s the point?”
I glanced over at Rocco and Jamison, who smiled brightly at me. Only me. I wanted so badly to join them, but I didn’t want to inflict Freddy on them. No point in ruining everyone’s fun.
“You know why I need you here,” I said. “It’s supposed to be a win-win. You get more money, and I get credibility.”
I didn’t feel like I was winning, but there was nothing I could do about that for the moment. People liked to see their matchmakers in loving, healthy relationships, and, unfortunately, that hadn’t been the reality for the Cozzi sisters. Until recently, Tori had spent her entire adult life as a serial monogamist, dating men who didn’t deserve her. I’d married Freddy, a serial cheater, who I stayed legally bound to for the sake of our children. The truth about our love lives would destroy our reputation as matchmakers and make me prey for the paparazzi. The thought of our sons seeing their parents’ marriage dissolution play out in the press was enough to make me sick to my stomach.
“Go get some alcohol,” I suggested. “Free drinks, remember?”
“I can afford to buy my own drinks.” I was afraid he’d stick to my side all evening, but his eyes drifted over to the bar and he relented. “Fine. I’ll mingle.”
Grateful to be shed of him, I joined Rocco and Jamison who were standing in the reception area near one of the giant couches. The crowd was growing by the second, and I had to turn sideways to scoot through a group of people. Someone’s glass tipped onto my shoes, dousing my toes with champagne. Fantastique.
“Hey, sweetie.” Rocco gave me a kiss on the cheek. “I see you brought your French handbag with you.”
I looked distractedly at the tiny Coach bag on my arm before I realized he was talking about Freddy. “Very funny.”
Jamison smacked his husband’s arm. “Ignore him. He’s off gluten and it makes him cranky.”
“Seriously, though…” Rocco glanced over his shoulder and lowered his voice, “if you ever need to get rid of him, I’ll help you hide the body.”
I snorted and took a swig of champagne. The bubbles tickled my nose, bringing on a sneeze that I successfully suppressed. “Thanks. I’ll take that into consideration next time I’m feeling homicidal.”
The three of us watched Freddy lean against the bar that was set up for the event. He was already flirting with one of the bartenders, who looked about half his age.
“It’s not worth doing prison time for him,” I said.
When Freddy sauntered away from the bar with his drink in hand, the bartender’s eyes tracked his movements. He was still trim and suave at fifty-three, and it wasn’t the young woman’s fault she was ogling a married guy because he never wore a wedding band, even before we separated. His excuse was that European men didn’t wear wedding rings, which was either true or one of the convenient explanations that he was so good at finding for his behavior.
“Look at him.” I nodded my head toward Freddy. “He has no problem picking up women wherever he goes.”
Rocco and Jamison exchanged side-eyed glances.
“Honey, you’d meet someone else if you divorced him,” Jamison said. “You’re gorgeous, funny and smart, not to mention loaded. You don’t need him.”
“Tori is all loved up now,” Rocco added. “While the media is focused on her new relationship, this is your chance to dump Freddy.”
“Did I hear my name?” Tori appeared at my elbow.
I swiped my thumb over her cheek where someone had left a lipstick kiss mark. “I thought you had to talk to other people?”
“I said that because I can’t be around Freddy without wanting to kick him in the nuts.” She leaned in and stage whispered, “Now, what are we talking about?”
“I was telling Lauren she needs to get rid of him once and for all.” Rocco cupped his hands around his mouth and hissed, “Divorce.”
“We want her to be free to meet someone else,” Jamison chimed in.
“Meeting someone else is the least of my concerns.” Seeing their raised eyebrows, I added, “Seriously. When we get divorced—which we will eventually—I’m going to be too busy dealing with a media cyclone to think about dating. I’ll probably have to hide out in my apartment for a year.”
“Then why not get it over with now?” Rocco asked. “The longer you wait, the more years you lose.”
I sighed and stared into my empty glass. “If you’re trying to make me feel better, it’s not working.”
“We’re not trying to gang up on you,” Rocco said, “but we’ve been worried about you. You’ve lost your Lauren sparkle.”
“Thanks a lot!” I looked around for another tray of champagne glasses.
“What we’re saying,” Jamison added, giving his husband the stink eye, “is that you seem to be stuck in neutral. Your kids are out of college and starting their careers. Tori has this new business venture with Jenna. Freddy is doing his sailing thing in Europe. And you’re just… ”
“A loser?” I supplied.
Tori put her arm around me. “No one said that, honey. Look at you in this sexy dress! You’re stunning and—” She looked over our heads. “Oops, they’re summoning me. Time to shine!” And with that, she was off.
“Our sister loves a stage,” Rocco said as our eyes followed Tori across the room.
“I’m not like her, you know,” I said defensively. “I don’t need a million projects, and I hate being in the public eye.”
“We know,” Jamison said. “We just love you and want to see you happy.”
I bit down on my lip to keep myself from tearing up. My emotions were so close to the surface these days. “I’m in a down phase and feeling a little burned out. It will pass.”
Liar. I’d been in close contact with my financial advisor in the past few months to figure out when I could retire. I used to think I’d work until death because I loved my job so much, but now…something was shifting inside me and the more I fought it, the harder it tugged. The walls of my office were closing in on me. My apartment felt like a cage. If I didn’t make a change soon, I was going to suffocate.
“Maybe you need to move to a new apartment,” Rocco said, as if reading my mind. “A new space, a new outlook. Somewhere with a nice big soaking tub where you can wash away all thoughts of that idiot ex-husband of yours.”
I gave him a dubious look. “He’s not officially my ex yet, and that’s a lot to ask of a soaking tub.”
“Welcome, everyone!” Tori’s voice claimed the room, her rich alto amplified by the mic she held in her hand. She and Jenna stood in front of a pink curtain that blocked off the back of the room. “I’m Tori Cozzi, as most of you already know, and this is my business partner, Jenna Rossolino. Thank you for coming here tonight to support us in the unveiling of Jentori Haircare. We’re thrilled you’re here with us. Your support means so much, and we hope you bring home some samples of our products so you can look as fabulous as we do.”
The crowd laughed at her joke and, with a hair toss, she handed the mic to Jenna, who also looked incredible in a short gold dress topped with a leather moto jacket. She’d styled her dark hair to perfection in a sleek shoulder-length bob.
“Thanks, Tori.” Jenna’s voice wavered slightly. “We believe in these products because we helped create them. Yes, there are lots of haircare lines on the market, but many of them make promises they can’t deliver. A lot of them are bad for the rest of your body too. Jentori is free from dangerous chemicals, one hundred percent vegan, ethically sourced, and”—she lowered her chin and dropped her voice into a conspiratorial tone—“to be blunt, this shit is going to make your hair look amazing.”
The crowd clapped and cheered, and, off to the side, there was Nick gazing at Tori with such a fierce look of admiration and love that I felt both delighted for them and bereft that I’d never had anyone look at me that way in my entire life. I’d been married over two decades, and I’d never been sincerely adored that way. Maybe I never would.
Jenna handed the mic back to Tori. “Without further ado,” she said, “let’s unveil the products!”
Tori pulled a string to make the curtain behind them drop to the floor. Sure enough, we could all see a table stacked with haircare products in gorgeous pink and gold packaging. But no one was looking at that. Instead, we collectively gasped and stared at the couple making out to the side of the table. The woman had both hands inside the man’s unbuttoned pants and was clearly doing a job that had nothing to do with salon work.
Sensing their audience, the couple froze in what must have been an unplanned sexual tableau. I blinked several times, thinking I could clear the error in my vision. That couldn’t be Freddy and the young bartender standing there in flagrante delicto…
I shrieked and covered my mouth as Jamison and Rocco swung their heads towards me. Time felt suspended, and then pandemonium broke loose. Media cameras flashed as guests whipped out cell phones. Freddy zipped up his trousers, and the bartender spun around to put her back to the crowd. White noise, like the din of a passing train, filled my ears as I stood paralyzed in horror.
The bartender pushed her way through the crowd and ran straight out the front door, shirt still unbuttoned as she clutched it closed. Cameras flashed and people started shouting at me. I couldn’t process any of their words.
As Rocco put a protective arm around my shoulder and ushered me toward the back of the salon, one thought ran through my head.
My life was over.
Chapter 2
Lauren
Standing outside the Laramie airport, I felt like something must have gone amiss. After taking a flight to Denver, then catching a smaller plane to Wyoming, I expected a private car to be waiting for me. None were in sight. In fact, I didn’t see any hotel vans picking up passengers. I set my bags on the sidewalk and shaded my eyes against the bright sunlight, searching for my ride. Surely they hadn’t forgotten to send someone for me?
Photographers set up camp outside my apartment building the morning after the party at Jentori, the scene of my ultimate humiliation. They were also congregating outside our office building and Tori’s apartment, in case I tried to retreat there. Their pursuit of me had induced paranoia and panic attacks, and I started staying inside all the time with my blinds down. Tori finally had her assistant, Sully, book a trip for me out west at a remote resort and spa so I could lay low somewhere comfortable until the brouhaha died down in New York.
It felt cowardly to let the press run me out of town, especially when I was the victim, not the criminal. Of course, Freddy had left New York immediately. He was already in the South of France “licking his wounds,” which was a euphemism for “drinking alcohol out of a model’s belly button.”
A black sedan pulled up to the curb, but before I could inquire if they were there for me, a young woman came outside and stepped into the car. I sighed and looked around but there was no taxi stand or sign for hotel transportation in view, and as I waited for someone to claim me like lost luggage, I grew more nervous. It looked like I was going to have to call the resort and find out what was going on.
“Unbelievable,” I muttered under my breath. Or not so unbelievable considering my luck lately.
Emotionally exhausted and coasting on self-pity, I pulled out my phone to search for the resort’s phone number. At that moment, a well-worn Suburban with filthy mud flaps roared past me at a dangerously high speed. The driver slid up to the curb and lurched to a halt. If this was how people drove around here, it was a good thing I hadn’t rented a car to drive to the resort.
A man stepped out of the desperately dirty vehicle, yanked his t-shirt over his head, balled it up, then tossed it into the far depths of the backseats.
Ew. But also…wow.
For a man who looked to be around my age, he was in great shape—muscular back, broad shoulders, toned arms. Interesting…
I stared with growing curiosity as he took a new t-shirt from the front seat and slipped it over his head, his muscles flexing as he slid his arms through the holes and pulled the fabric to his waist. Then he grabbed a tan cowboy hat from the dashboard and put it on before slamming the driver’s side door. Mesmerized by this display of casual masculinity, I finally dragged my gaze away so I wouldn’t get caught gawking. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him walk toward me, and my heart rate quickened. Shoot. Had he seen me watching him?
“Howdy, ma’am.”
He was definitely speaking to me because I was the only one in the vicinity, so now I had to turn back and look at him again. Damn. He had the faded jeans and worn-in boots to pull that whole rough-and-ready look together.
“Hello.” I gave him a tight, closed-lip smile that said I was being pleasant, but wasn’t interested in whatever he was about to offer. Then I snapped my eyes back down to my suitcase. As a wary New Yorker, my guard went up when male strangers approached me, no matter how sexy they might be. Ted Bundy was handsome too, and look how that turned out.
“Are you heading to Silver Sage?” he asked, stepping closer to me.
And now I felt silly. “Oh. Yes, I am, actually.” I finally noticed that under the dirt on the green SUV there was faded white lettering that read Silver Sage Ranch. “Are you here to pick me up?” It was a stupid question that I regretted the second it was out of my mouth.
“I sure am.” He strode toward me, extending his hand for a shake, while I fanned my overheated face with my phone. “Matthew Hart, owner and manager of Silver Sage Ranch. Please excuse the dirt on the vehicle and”—he looked down at his jeans—“on me. A fence needed mending this morning, and I didn’t have time to change after seeing to it.”
Owner? That was a surprise. Didn’t they have someone lowlier who could shuttle guests to the ranch, not to mention deal with fence repairs? I took a moment to drink him in—lean body, chiseled jaw, chestnut hair streaked with silver at the temples. His denim-blue eyes were the same color as his jeans. If Tori were here, she’d make a joke about forgetting the truck and riding the cowboy, but I was in this alone.
“I’m Lauren Wagonblast,” I said, using my new alias. “Nice to meet you.” He clasped my hand in a firm grip, the callouses on his fingers playing roughly against my skin. I ignored the little tingle that shot through me at his touch because, seriously, I wasn’t falling for his humble cowboy act. He was probably wearing that hat to play a part for the sake of a tourist.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Wagonblast.” Amazingly, he didn’t crack a smile at the ridiculous last name Tori had given me when she had Sully arrange my stay at the ranch. Next time, I was making my own reservation.
He walked around to the back of the SUV and opened the door to the trunk area. “Are those your only bags?”
I looked down at my carry-on bag and oversized suitcase on wheels. “This is it. The bigger bag is really”—he easily hefted the sixty-pound suitcase the airlines charged me extra for and tossed it into the back of the SUV—“heavy.”
Not for him, apparently. He placed my smaller bag on top of the bigger one and slammed the two back doors.
“All set?” he asked.
I blinked up at the man in front of me, backlit with sunlight, and wondered what the hell I’d gotten myself into. He could be driving me anywhere for all I knew. Maybe he wasn’t even from the resort, and I was being kidnapped and taken north or south over the border, never to be seen again…
I seriously needed to get a grip.
He took my hesitation the wrong way. “I promise the car is cleaner inside than out.”
“No, it’s not that.” Okay, that was an issue, but I didn’t want to seem prissy. “I was wondering if there were other guests coming with us?” I looked behind me but, alas, there was no one coming out of the doors of the airport.
“Nope, only you.”
Only me and this stranger who could clearly overpower me if he chose to do so. He had the correct name on his truck, but something about this situation still felt off.
“Alright then. Let’s go.”
As we drove down the highways of southeastern Wyoming, I found out what was meant by big sky country. Previous ski trips to Colorado hadn’t prepared me for the vastness of the Wyoming landscape. Three-hundred and sixty degrees around us was an impossibly blue sky dotted with puffy white clouds that Bob Ross himself could have conjured. There was open land as far as the eye could see, dotted with conifers and low-growing scrubby bushes. Here, the trees didn’t obstruct one’s vision like they did on Long Island, where I grew up. You could see far and wide, all the way to foothills of tawny, rugged mountains in the distance. Behind those stood what Matthew told me were the majestic Sierra Madres, capped in white even in the summer.
At one point, we passed a sign for a town called Elk Mountain, population one hundred and fifty-one. I’d been to Peloton classes with nearly that many people.
“It certainly is sparsely populated out here,” I said, stating the obvious.
“That’s the beauty of Wyoming. The cows outnumber the people. Kind of like subway rats in New York City.”
I pointed a finger at him. “Hilarious, but I actually read a report that said the rat population is only one-third of the human population in the city.”
He laughed and glanced over at me. “I stand corrected on that score. Cows are so much nicer than rats though, so it’s not a fair comparison, anyway.”
I tilted my head to the side. “Are they though?”
“Wow, not a cow person, I see.”
“And you’re not a city person, I guess.” My voice had taken on a teasing, almost flirtatious tone.
“My trips to Manhattan have always been enjoyable. Couldn’t live there, though. Not when this place exists.”
At that moment, we were passing by a field full of grazing horses. “It really is beautiful. I knew it was pretty, but I never expected it to be…stunning.”
Again, my words felt inadequate for the occasion. This trip, which began out of necessity, was feeling more like a vacation, one that was very much needed in my life.
“I’m glad you can appreciate it,” he said. “Not everyone does. Some don’t like feeling landlocked. Others find Wyoming too quiet and remote from everything else.”
“I definitely don’t mind the peace and quiet right now.”
No more paparazzi stalking me and well-meaning fans stopping me in the street to hug and console me. Being hugged by strangers was way outside of my comfort zone. I only hoped the other guests at the ranch would be discreet and leave me alone. Typically, people at exclusive resorts were there to escape and recharge, not to bother other wealthy people, so I didn’t expect it to be an issue.
“Just curious,” he said, “how did you hear about us?”
“My sister found you. I told her I wanted to go somewhere I wouldn’t be bothered for a while, and she did a little research and found Silver Sage.”
“Have you ever been out west before?” he asked.
“No, but I used to ride horses as a kid, and I think that was on her mind when she made the reservation.”
“Is that right?” He was driving with one hand, looking like he could navigate these roads blindfolded. Traffic certainly wasn’t an issue.
“It’s been a very long time since I’ve ridden.” I didn’t want to make myself sound like some kind of expert. “As a preteen girl, I was obsessed with horses. Quite a cliche, I guess. I read all the horse books in my school library and watched Black Beauty about ten times, and then I begged my parents for riding lessons. They let me do it for a couple of years until it got too expensive.” The riding lessons had to stop when my father was laid off from his job, but Mr. Hart didn’t need to hear that aspect of the story.
“My daughter is obsessed with horses too,” he said. “We’ll get you back in the saddle again. There are beautiful trails at the ranch. You’ll love it.”
Back in the saddle again. I needed that in more ways than one. I separated from Freddy three years earlier, but we hadn’t been intimate in much longer than that. Honestly, I hadn’t even had a strong desire to be with a man, and I started to think my peri-menopausal body was closed for business. It was my gynecologist who convinced me to take measures to keep everything healthy and in working order down there by using the proper medications and supplements.
“You never know,” she’d said. “At some point, you might want to become sexually active again. You’re still a young woman, and you want to have all your options, just in case.”
Her words had made me laugh inwardly at the time because I definitely didn’t feel like a young woman, and my options were, due to my own choices, quite limited. You can’t publicly date when you’re in a sham marriage, not unless you’re Freddy cavorting freely around small European beach towns. Even if I were single, finding someone appropriate to love after fifty wasn’t a simple task, which was why so many older people hired matchmakers in the first place.
Now here I was, driving through rural Wyoming with a handsome stranger and thinking about my vaginal health. I guess celibacy wasn’t feeling as appealing anymore. Not that I was going to do anything about it on this trip, but experiencing sexual attraction to a man was a good start. I peeked at Matthew, and a powerful urge to put my hand on his muscular thigh seized me. Where the heck did that come from?
I clenched my hands together on my lap just in case they got any funny ideas. Obviously, I would never fondle the leg of a man I’d just met, but the fact that I’d even thought about it was scary and exhilarating. As we rolled along a stretch of lonesome highway, I became intoxicated by the Suburban’s manly smell of sweat and leather. We were sitting together on a bench style front seat. Did Matthew’s lady sit in the middle, her leg pressed up against his, the two of them all cozy and snuggled up? Could people have sex right here in the—
“You doing okay?”
His words broke me from my reverie. If I was lucky, he wouldn’t notice the flush on my throat and cheeks.
“A little warm. Is it okay if I crack the window for a minute?” I asked.
“Sure.”
Clearly, I needed to make conversation to keep my mind from wandering. “How long have you owned Silver Sage?”
“My parents bought it in the eighties,” he said, “and almost two years ago I took over as manager. My sister and brothers followed other paths in life, but I wanted to keep the ranch in the family.”
I took a swig from my water bottle. Maybe all of my fantasizing resulted from dehydration. “Do they live in Wyoming?”
“Only Sam, my youngest brother, still lives out here. He’s our local veterinarian. Faith, my sister, lives in Texas, and my brother Bowie lives in Alaska.” He turned the truck onto another long stretch of road that looked exactly like the one we’d been on.
I couldn’t imagine living far away from my siblings. Tori was my other half and business partner, and Rocco was a best friend and confidante. Success and fame made it harder to trust people because you never really knew what they wanted from you, but with my siblings, I never had to question their loyalty.
“And are your parents still at the ranch?” I asked.
“They died in a car accident a while back. That’s why I’m running it now.”
I sat with the feeling of that loss, giving it the moment of silent reflection it deserved. “I’m so sorry. I lost my dad quite suddenly, and it was a shock, but losing both of your parents at once must have been a nightmare.”
“It was hard,” he said, “but being at the ranch makes me feel closer to them. I’m continuing their legacy, which is very important to me.”
“I’m amazed you took over the family business by yourself. My sister and I own a company together, and I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
He glanced over at me. “Is that right? What kind of business are you in?”
I considered lying, but wasn’t quick enough on my feet to think of anything other than the truth. “We own a matchmaking service.”
“Really?” He appraised me with fresh eyes, as if I’d surprised him. “I didn’t even know those existed anymore, what with online dating.”
I wasn’t offended. What would a guy from rural Wyoming know about elite Manhattan matchmakers? It was probably as foreign to him as something like rodeos were to me.
“Being on the dating apps is hard, and Stanley Cup winners and airline CEOs don’t necessarily want to post their photos for all to see. Many high profile people prefer being set up by professionals. We background check every client to weed out the creeps and the scammers, and we do in-depth interviews and even conduct mock dates to give them tips. It’s a process.” An expensive process that most people couldn’t afford. “My sister is actually the matchmaker. I’m the CFO, the numbers brain.”
“Oh, so this is matchmaking for millionaires.”
“And billionaires.” I wasn’t bragging, only stating facts, but I could see the slight shift in his expression. “Since it’s our company, we can choose who we work with. If our clients don’t treat other people with dignity and respect, we part ways with them.”
The last thing I wanted to do was get into a big discussion about work, but when people found out I co-owned a matchmaking company, there were always questions. I could never get away from my job and, in some ways, that was my own fault. I had cultivated little in my life besides my career and my role as a mother. Who I was beyond those two things was becoming a question I wanted to answer.
“Sounds like you offer an important service, then.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Online dating doesn’t really work so well in small towns. You’d probably just end up on a date with your neighbor or cousin. People tend to meet the old-fashioned way here.”
“At the bar?”
He chuckled. “At the bar, definitely. Or church. My sister met her husband at college. A lot of folks marry their high school sweethearts.”
“I think those are ideal ways to meet someone, if you can. In a big city, it can be hard to connect with other single people, although it seems like it should be the opposite when there are so many options.”
“Women have a saying about meeting a man out here.”
“Tell me.”
He tilted his head. “The odds are good, but the goods are odd.”
I smiled as I processed his meaning. “Is that so?”
“I can only speak for myself, but I don’t think I’m that odd. Now my brothers are another story.”
I laughed again, then waited anxiously for him to ask how I met my husband. Yes, I was alone on this trip, but I was wearing a diamond engagement ring and a wedding band on my left hand, and there was nothing I wanted to talk about less than how I met Freddy. Shifting in my seat, I slid my hand under my leg to hide the ring and hopefully ward off any questions.
Fortunately, Matthew Hart and I were both comfortable riding in silence, and that’s exactly what we did for a good twenty minutes. Occasionally, I’d sneak looks over at him, enjoying his handsome profile and wishing I could do more than daydream about a vacation fling, but now wasn’t the time to risk another scandal. He didn’t seem like the type to sell a story to a tabloid, but did anyone ever appear on the surface to be a heartless sellout?
About forty-five minutes into the trip, I was impatient to arrive at the ranch. “Are we close yet?”
“About halfway.”
“Halfway?” Surprise made my voice higher and shriller than I’d intended. “Really?”
“We’re cutting through the Medicine Bow National Forest right now. It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?”
“Absolutely. I just didn’t realize…” I could have sworn Tori told me the ranch was a half hour from the airport. I wanted to have a look at a map on my phone, but there was no cell reception. Zero bars. Hopefully, the ranch had reliable WiFi, so I could do a few online meetings later in the week. I felt twitchy when I thought about being away from work for too long.
“What do you do if you run out of gas out here?” I asked. “I haven’t seen any service stations.”
He scratched his chin. “Yeah, that’s why we make sure we have a full tank when we leave home. You’d have to walk a long way to find a gas station. Or hope someone comes along and gives you a ride.” He looked over at me and saw where my mind was going. “Don’t worry. I have flares, blankets, and other supplies in case of car trouble. When you live out here, you come prepared or suffer the consequences.”
There was something incredibly sexy about a man with survival skills who could take care of a flat tire or keep me warm in a snowstorm. Maybe that appeal dated back to our prehistoric ancestors, embedded somewhere in our genetic code? It reminded me of Paul, my college boyfriend, during my years at Middlebury College in Vermont. He introduced me to hiking and cross-country skiing, and he never went anywhere without his trusty Swiss army knife.
I still thought about Paul sometimes and wondered how different my life would have been if we’d stayed together. Then again, if I hadn’t married Freddy, I wouldn’t have had Julien and Serge, my sweet boys, and I might not have built Ms. Match with Tori. According to his social media, Paul was happily married with two kids up in Vermont. Things turned out the way they were supposed to, but sometimes I still couldn’t help but wonder…what if?
An hour and a half after leaving the airport, we finally arrived at the gate for Silver Sage Ranch. After being on a plane for so long, my body was looking forward to a long bath, a hot meal, and maybe a walk around the property. I’d expected a fancy entrance, something like stone pillars or a fountain surrounded by a professionally manicured flower bed; instead, we drove up to a red gate, slightly rusted, with a humble sign hanging over it, the name of the ranch burned into the wood. That was a surprise. Maybe the resort was going for the earthy, minimalist vibe?
Matthew hopped out of the truck and swung open the gate like someone who had done it a million times. Then he climbed back inside the SUV.
“Welcome to Silver Sage Ranch, Mrs. Wagonblast. I sure hope you enjoy your time here.”
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