Best Kept Secrets

when he was foaled. They thought he was a dummy, and

 

'wanted to put him down."

 

"A what?"

 

"A dummy's a foal that was deprived of oxygen during

 

the birthing." He shook his head as he watched the horse

 

enter the stable. "I didn't think so. I was right. His lineage

 

indicated he had every chance to be good, and he has been.

 

Never a disappointment. Always runs his heart out, even

 

when he's outclassed."

 

"You've got good reason to be proud of him."

 

"I guess."

 

Alex wasn't fooled by his pretended indifference. "Do

 

they always run the horses full out like that?"

 

"No, they're breezing them today, seeing how they run

 

against each other. Four days a week, they're galloped once

 

or twice around the track. Comparable to a jog. Two days

 

after breezing them, they're just walked."

 

He turned and headed toward a saddled horse that was tied

 

to a fence post. "Where are you going?"

 

"Home." He mounted with the loose-limbed grace of a

 

range cowboy.

 

"I need to talk to you," Alex cried in consternation.

 

He bent down and extended his hand. "Get on." From

 

beneath the brim of his hat, green eyes challenged her.

 

She pushed her sunglasses higher on the bridge of her nose

 

and approached the horse with an outward show of confidence

 

she didn't actually feel.

 

Clasping Reede's hand was the tough part. He hauled her

 

up with very little effort, though it was left to her to get

 

situated between his buttocks and the sloping back of the

 

saddle.

 

That was disconcerting enough, but when he kneed the

 

horse forward, Alex was thrown against his broad back. Out

 

of necessity, her arms encircled his waist. She was careful

 

to keep her hands well above his belt. Her mind wasn't as

 

easy to control. It kept straying to his damned, well-worn

 

fly.

 

"Warm enough?" he asked her over his shoulder.

 

 

 

"Yes," she lied.

 

She had thought his long white duster with the steep pleat

 

in the back was all for show. She'd never seen one outside

 

a Clint Eastwood western. Now, however, she realized the

 

coat was designed to keep a rider's thighs warm.

 

"Who were you meeting in the bar last night?"

 

"That's my business, Reede. Why did you follow me?"

 

"That's my business."

 

Impasse. For the time being, she let it go. She had a file

 

of questions she wanted to ask him, but it was difficult to

 

keep her mind on her task when her open cleft kept bumping

 

into his hips with each rocking motion of the horse. She

 

blurted out the first question that came to mind. "How did

 

you and my mother get to be such close friends?"

 

"We grew up together," he said dismissively. "It started

 

out on the jungle gym on the school playground and evolved

 

as we got older."

 

"It never became awkward?"

 

"Nope. We had no secrets from each other. We'd even

 

played doctor a few times."

 

" 'I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours'?"

 

He grinned. "You must've played doctor, too."

 

Alex didn't rise to the bait, knowing that he was trying to

 

sidetrack her. "I guess the two of you eventually grew out

 

of that stage."

 

"We didn't play doctor anymore, no, but we talked about

 

everything. No subject was taboo between Celina and me."

 

"Isn't that the kind of relationship a girl usually has with

 

another girl?"

 

"Usually, but Celina didn't have many girlfriends. Most

 

of the girls were jealous of her."

 

"Why?" Alex already knew the answer. She knew even

 

before he shrugged, a move that rubbed his shoulder blade

 

against her breast. Alex was hardly able to speak. She had

 

to force herself to ask. "It was because of you, wasn't it?

 

Her friendship with you?"

 

"Maybe. That, and the fact that she was by far the prettiest

 

 

 

girl around. Most of the girls considered her a rival, not a

 

friend. Hold on," he warned her before guiding the horse

 

into a dry gully.

 

Inertia pushed her forward, closer to him. Instinctively,

 

she hugged his torso tighter. He made a grunting sound. She

 

asked, "What's the matter?"

 

"Nothing."

 

"You sounded . . . uncomfortable."

 

"If you were a guy sitting astride a horse taking a steep

 

incline and were being crammed against the pommel of the

 

saddle so that your manhood pushed into your lap, you'd be

 

uncomfortable, too."

 

"Oh."

 

"Jesus," he swore beneath his breath.

 

Until the ground leveled out, there was an awkward silence

 

between them, broken only by the horse's clumping tread as

 

he carefully picked his way over the rocky ground. To hide

 

her embarrassment and keep the cold wind off her, Alex

 

buried her face in the flannel-lined collar of his coat. Eventually,

 

she said, "So, Mother came to you with all her problems."

 

"Yes. When she didn't, and I knew something was wrong,

 

I went to her. One day she was absent from school. I got

 

worried and went to her house during lunch break. Your

 

grandmother was at work, so Celina was there alone. She'd

 

been crying. I got scared and refused to leave until she told

 

me what was wrong."

 

"What was the matter?"

 

"She got her period for the first time."

 

"Oh."

 

"From what I gathered, Mrs. Graham had made her feel

 

ashamed of it. She'd told her all kinds of horror stories about

 

Eve's curse--crap like that." There was disapproval in his

 

voice. "Was she that way with you?"

 

Alex shook her head no, but didn't remove it from the

 

protection of his collar. His neck was warm, and smelled like

 

him. "Not that severe. Maybe Grandma had become more

 

 

 

enlightened by the time I reached puberty." Until Reede

 

reined in the horse and dismounted, Alex hadn't realized that

 

they'd reached a small frame house. "What about Mother?"

 

"I consoled her and told her that it was normal, nothing

 

to be ashamed of, that she had officially become a woman."

 

He looped the reins around a hitching post.

 

"Did it work?"

 

"I guess so. She stopped crying and--"

 

"And . . .?" Alex prodded him to continue, knowing that

 

he had omitted the most important part of the story.

 

"Nothing. Swing your leg over." He reached up to help

 

her down, taking her around the waist with sure, strong hands

 

and lifting her to the ground.

 

"Something, Reede."

 

She clutched the sleeves of his coat. His lips were drawn

 

into a thin, stubborn line. They looked chapped and consummately

 

masculine. She remembered looking at the newspaper

 

picture of him kissing Celina when he crowned her homecoming

 

queen. As before, Alex's stomach swelled and receded

 

like a wave far out in the gulf.

 

"You kissed her, didn't you?"

 

He made an uneasy movement with his shoulder. "I'd

 

kissed her before."

 

"But that was the first real kiss, wasn't it?"

 

He released her and, crossing the shallow front porch,

 

thrust open the door. "You can come in or not," he said

 

over his shoulder, "it's up to you."

 

He disappeared through the door, leaving it open. Despondent

 

but curious, Alex followed. The front door opened

 

directly into the living room. Through an arched opening on

 

her left, she could see a dining area and kitchen. A hallway

 

on the opposite side presumably led into a bedroom, where

 

she could hear him rummaging about. Absently, she closed

 

the front door, removed her glasses and gloves, and looked

 

around.

 

The house had the stamp of a bachelor. Furniture had been

 

arranged for comfort and convenience, not with any decorative

 

flair. He'd set his hat on a table and tossed his coat

 

 

 

and gloves onto a chair. Other surfaces were clear, but the

 

bookshelves were cluttered, as though straightening up

 

amounted to cramming anything lying around onto a shelf.

 

There were cobwebs in the corners of the ceiling that caught

 

the sunlight as it poured in through the dusty Venetian blinds.

 

He caught her looking up at one of the cobwebs as he

 

reappeared, carrying a pair of aviator sunglasses. "Lupe

 

sends one of her nieces out here every few weeks. It's about

 

that time." It was an explanation, but hardly an excuse or

 

apology. "Want some coffee?"

 

"Please."

 

He went into the kitchen. Alex continued to walk around

 

the room as she stamped circulation back into her frozen feet.

 

Her attention was drawn to a tall trophy in one of the built-in

 

bookshelves. "Most Valuable Player" was engraved on it

 

in block letters, along with Reede's name and the date.

 

"Is this the right color?" He had moved up behind her.

 

When she turned he was holding a mug of coffee out to her.

 

He had remembered to add milk.

 

"Fine, thanks." Inclining her head toward the trophy, she

 

asked, "Your senior year, right?"

 

"Hmm."

 

"That's quite an honor."

 

"I guess so."

 

Alex noticed that he resorted to that catchall phrase when

 

he wanted the conversation to end. He remained an enigma

 

in all other respects. "You're not sure it was an honor?"

 

He dropped into an easy chair and thrust his feet out in

 

front of him. "I felt then, and still feel, that I had a good

 

team backing me up. The other nominated players were just

 

as valuable as me."

 

"Junior?"

 

"He was one of them, yeah," he replied, instantly defensive.

 

"But you won the award and Junior didn't."

 

His eyes glared at hers. "Is that supposed to be significant?"

 

"I don't know. Is it?"

 

 

 

He gave a scoffing laugh. "Stop playing lawyer games

 

with me and say what's on your mind."

 

"Okay." She leaned against the padded arm of the sofa

 

and considered him carefully as she asked,' 'Did Junior resent

 

your getting named most valuable player?"

 

"Ask him."

 

"Maybe I will. I'll also ask Angus if he minded."

 

"Angus couldn't have been prouder the night of the awards

 

banquet."

 

"Except if his son had been named most valuable player

 

instead of you."

 

Reede's expression turned stony. "You're full of shit, you

 

know that?"

 

"I'm sure Angus was proud of you, glad for you, but you

 

can't expect me to believe that he wouldn't have rather seen

 

Junior get the trophy."

 

"Believe whatever you goddamn want to. It makes no

 

difference to me." He emptied his coffee mug in three swallows,

 

set it on the low coffee table in front of him, then stood

 

up. "Ready?"

 

She set her coffee down, too, but she made no move to

 

leave. "Why are you so touchy about this?"

 

' 'Not touchy, bored.'' He leaned down to put his face close

 

to hers. "That trophy is a twenty-five-year-old, tarnished

 

piece of junk that's good for nothing except to collect dust."

 

"Then, why have you kept it all these years?"

 

He plowed his fingers through his hair. "Look, it doesn't

 

mean anything now."

 

"But it did then."

 

"Precious little. Not enough to get me an athletic scholarship,

 

which I was counting on to go to college."

 

"What did you do?"

 

"I went anyway."

 

"How?"

 

"A loan."

 

"A government loan?"