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“Don’t even go there,” Reba said.
“I know. I can’t help it.”
As they drove by the horse barn, they saw Shane storming out of it with a buckle bunny chasing after him.
“Don’t you walk away from me, Shane Calland.”
“Oh shit,” Dolly said. “That’s his ex-wife, Abigail. She’s engaged to Keith Kilgore.”
Reba made a face. She hoped Keith wasn’t around. That would be the cherry on the shit sundae if she ran into him or his uncle. Hopefully, Dr. Kilgore was back in Paris, Texas.
“Abigail, go home,” Shane said, turning toward her.
That was when Abigail flung herself into Shane’s arms and kissed him.
“Don’t run her over,” Dolly said, hanging on for dear life as Reba put her foot down on the pedal. But by the time it took for the little golf cart to burst forward, Shane had put Abigail out at arm’s length.
“No, Abigail. It ain’t happening. I’m not interested. I know you’re hurting and you’re sad. I am, too. But you are not the one I want to be with.”
“Oh shit, this is some next-level drama,” Dolly said.
Reba pulled up alongside the couple. “Going my way, cowboy?” she asked.
“Definitely.” Shane climbed into the back seat of the golf cart.
His ass had barely touched down when Reba put her foot back on the gas pedal. She resisted the urge to flip off his ex-wife.
“Thanks for the rescue,” he said. “I’d like to say she’s not normally like that and this is all just the reaction to Ronnie’s death, but she’s always like that. I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“I’m not,” Reba said.
It proved to her that Shane wasn’t the same party animal that he had been when he was on the circuit. He could have taken what Abigail was offering, and yet he didn’t. They hadn’t even had the “exclusive” talk yet, so she couldn’t have blamed him. And yet, it warmed her heart that he hadn’t wanted to kiss his ex.
“I’m Dolly,” her sister said, holding out her hand to shake. “I’m sorry about what happened today.”
“Thank you. It’s rough for everyone.”
“I’m going to need to be an intrusive bitch. Jackson Blevins wants some footage of Sverre. I know you probably mind like hell. If I could get out of it, I would. But it could help ease some tensions from outside publicity if I could take some pictures of Sverre tonight.”
“Sorry,” Shane said. “He’s already gone and on his way to Brady.”
“What’s in Brady?” Reba asked.
“We rent a pasture on a farm out there when we’re at the Texas rodeos. It’s about four hours, give or take, from anywhere we need to be. It beats driving twenty-four hours straight back home. Although”—he rubbed the back of his neck wearily—“I considered it after today.”
“Have you talked to your family?” Reba asked.
“Yeah, they’re devastated. They want to bring Sverre home. I’m not sure what the UPRC wants to do yet. Jackson Blevins wants to have a conference call with me tomorrow. I’m not sure what he’s going to say. He’s the boss. We’ll do what he wants.”
“He is at that,” Dolly said. “Anyway, we’ll find a way to make things right for Ronnie and Vanessa.”
“And Sverre,” Reba said.
“Him, too.”
“Do you think you could give me the address to your Brady farm and permission to let me and a camera crew visit to film Sverre tomorrow?” Dolly asked.
“I’ll call the farm. I’m not sure about the timing, though. He might be going back to Montana in the next few days.”
