Million Dollar Cowboy (Cupid, Texas #5)(104)

But enlightenment was a funny thing. If you thought you had it, you probably didn't.

Enlightenment wasn't some big neon sign glowing in the dark, bestowed by gods from on high. Rather, it was the eventual dawning that all the obstacles you'd been tripping over were of your own making, and only you had the power to dispatch them. Only you held the key to your own freedom by becoming aware of your mind chatter and how silly much of it was.

At least that's what Granny Blue kept telling her, and for the most part, that understanding helped her keep it together.

But then the dark clouds would drift over her. And the thoughts would close in. The ones she couldn't walk or breathe away. When the dark clouds came, she knew she had to get out of her own mind, so she submersed herself in animals. When her faith in people faltered, animals always cheered her up.

One sleepless night, she pocketed a flashlight and liver treats. Made a call to the police to let them know she'd be in the shelter after hours so they didn't send a patrol car and let herself into the kennels via the side exit door.

The sound of her key in the lock set the dogs to barking. Barking that filled her head with humming as surely as Ridge's kiss.

Stop thinking about him.

The second she stepped into the kennels and the dogs caught her scent, they immediately hushed and tails went wagging. She went from pen to pen, greeting each dog, rubbing heads and scratching behind ears. Cooing and talking to them like they understood what she was saying.

"Thinking time is over," she said to a mixed breed pit bull with an adorable spotted face, and tickled the dog's nose. "Yes it is. Oh yes it is."



       
         
       
        

The pitty sighed happily.

She sat down on the floor beside pitty's pen, the cement cool beneath her bottom. Bit her bottom lip to keep from crying. "Damn it, pitty, how do I stop loving him?"

The dog sympathized with a soft whimper.

"Nope. There's no hope for us."

The pitty rolled over onto her belly, pawed at Kaia's hand through the chain-link wire of her pen.

"I know. I should have seen it coming. Granny Blue's romantic legend aside, Ridge is Ridge. I can't change him. I don't want to change him. I love him just the way he is. Unfortunately . . ." Her bottom lip quivered and no amount of sinking her teeth into it could stop her sorrow. "He doesn't . . . or can't . . . love me the way I love him."

The pitty gave her a look.

"Well, yes, he did ask me to go to China with him. But I turned him down, and now he hasn't called or texted or emailed."

The dog barked.

"Ahh, so you think it's my fault? I should be the one to contact him?"

The pitty wagged her tail.

"Damn, dog," Kaia said, tears flowing down her cheeks. "How did you get so smart?"

The dog looked at her as if to say, "How did you get so dumb?"



Ten days after he arrived in Beijing, Ridge was dining on a lavish banquet in his honor at Liu Yan's palace, wishing he was instead at Kaia's little cottage sharing a delivery pizza.

He was at the pinnacle of his career, and it meant nothing.

He kept thinking about his last day in Cupid. What everyone had said to him. Duke. Vivi. Kaia.

Maybe they were right. Maybe he did use work as an excuse to bury his emotions. Maybe he had been running away.

It was a concept he kept butting up against.

From the time he was a kid, he'd always felt the only way to earn Duke's love and respect was to do something of value. Take care of his brothers. Play football. Be class president. Make money. Build a house. Win trophies. Invent a drilling method. Pilot an airplane. Learn Mandarin.

Where did it end? When would he be good enough? How much money did he have to have before he felt complete? How many skills did he need to master? How many awards did he have to achieve?

Why did he have to do things to feel worthy? Who would he be if he just stopped doing?

The idea was terrifying.

But it was also freeing.

What if he didn't have to constantly produce, produce, produce in order to be loved?

What if he was already loved, just for who he was?

Kaia had been trying to tell him that all along. He was loved. Ridge couldn't seem to wrap his head around it.

What if he didn't have to be the best of the best? What if second best was good enough? What if people accepted him just the way he was? And what if other peoples' opinions of him weren't so important? 

What was holding him back from fully embracing that notion?

The answer came to him in Kaia's soft voice with such clarity that he sucked in his breath and bolted upright in his chair.

You don't believe you deserve love.