best laid plans

the words of memphis' retirement go in one ear and out the other. savannah has known guys like him her entire life, a lot of them have to be injured beyond the point of return or they'll ride until their bones break from the pressure. she doesn't really know what his plan or timeline is, but she figures right now it isn't her place to push on that so she just lets it go. but then he mentions leaving and she tastes something sour in the back of her throat. is that her business? they're, at the very least, friends so... yeah, of course it is, right? but then they're not really just friends — but they're anything more than that either so maybe she shouldn't push it. fuck, this whole thing is becoming a lot more complicated than savannah had anticipated the first night they'd fallen into bed together. she tucks that little comment away, plans to ignore it though she knows it's going to eat at her and boil over before long.

Much like the lamb that Savannah found herself attached to, Memphis has taken a liking to the old mare, his eyes feeling a little dust-filled when he thinks about the day the old girl has to head to the pasture in the sky. And while he can feel his mother rolling in the grave thinking that something like a horse has a soul and, therefore, has an afterlife (her Christian roots say otherwise), if he still actually prayed, he'd ask for that. Still, he knows if he buys that pretty mare with the gray coat and the bits of black still trying to poke through, he's only setting himself up for disaster. "Ranch owns her for now, but they don't spoil her like I do," he says, a sad grin to the horse, keeping his face turned away from Sav. Giving the horse a quick pat, he moves her as she leads the way through the gallery.

“okay maybe not an actor,” she hummed, tapping her chin before she reached out to shove memphis’ shoulder lightly. “you know what you could do after your comeback?” because at this point it wasn’t an if it was a when. mostly because bennett had blind faith when it came to her friends, but she had also seen memphis at work. he was good. he deserved to be back out there. but she wasn’t going to push something she didn’t fully understand. “you could train actors like your new best friend vin diesel how to handle horses in movies. i’m pretty sure they make bank…”

Memphis knew he needed a backup plan. That's what this injury had taught him, yet he was, still with none. Not that working on the ranch wasn't everything that he needed for now; it just wasn't going to be that forever. The house he had rented on the land would only be temporary, and he's not even sure if the job would be open after he leaves. Hell, he was hoping to train someone new on the horses before things really started to pick up. The ranch relied on the horses to make for good sale to new owners, some racing, some riding, and some as pets. "I do need a backup plan, but I dunno if that's it. Those horses are trained to be weird. I like my horses doing horse stuff."

“well,” she said, drumming her fingers on the lid of her closed laptop. “the romance publishing house that paid me an advance for a love story might want it to be about love…” she took another sip of her drink and nearly choked as the idea of aliens came up. memphis had no idea why she started laughing, or at least she didn’t think he did as she cleared the alcohol out of her throat. “shockingly, aliens and romance novels aren’t mutually exclusive,” she said, still amused. maybe that was the temporary shift in subject she needed — but she had no idea where to start with that. “carson getting abducted would explain quite a few things,” bennett allowed.

Memphis has never read a romance novel, that's for damn sure. Hell, he hasn't even read a book since high school, he's pretty sure. But that doesn't mean he wouldn't give it the ol' college try if Bennett published it-- but he would definitely find it easier if it had something other than love going on in the story. "You should pitch the idea to them. I'm just sayin'." Definitely not exactly the best advice but if she wanted good advice, she definitely wouldn't be talking to a cowboy about it. Maybe Savannah would have something for her. "I'm not looking for the actor route-- I'm looking to hang out with Vin Diesel and maybe not have to retire at the ripe ol' age of 40," he snickers, shaking his head. He'll inevitably have to retire in the next decade or so, due to the wear and tear he's already feeling on his body. Getting thrown around on a horse is not great on the joints.

a brow raises and sav nods. "eyes, hands — you can keep whatever you wan't on me, darlin'. both is usually preferred, though." in all honesty, memphis has nothing to really be jealous about. not so much because they're not really together, but because while savannah may be a natural flirt, batting her eyes at everyone  — that doesn't mean she's actually interested or lets it go any further than that. it's all just fun and despite the notches in her bed post, when she actually has feelings for someone, she tends to fall fast and hard. like she's done now, despite a warning bell in the back of her mind telling her that it's a bad idea. she's had a lot of bad ideas over the years — most of them turn out halfway decent. she lets him grab onto her hand, squeezing the calloused fingers in response. "i'll see if tina can get ya in this weekend," she offers, half joking because she knows the chances of that are zero. "she'll have these feelin' as smooth as the day you were born."

"I can think of a few more things I'd like on you." The mischievous way that the pair always seems to find themselves flirting feels all too natural to Memphis-- it's how he's found his way into bed with body after body. But with her, it's different. A part of him cares about her day and likes to compliment her new manicure or tell her how soft her hair is. It's not exactly hookup conversational material. Savannah and Memphis have found themselves in a pattern of superficiality that somehow finds its way into something more real. The kind of real that leaves his chest aching from his rapid heartbeat with her and the kind of real that has him reaching for her in his sleep. Maybe it wasn't the flirtation was natural, but so was the way he kept reaching for her hand. "You don't want to scare Tina off, so maybe we hold off until I'm retired," he jokes.

He's a little uncomfortable, obviously Vivian can sense that — but it's in that sweet, charming way that puts the grin back on her face. "Savvy'll be thrilled. Trust me." That may be untrue, but he's so damn cute that Vivian's happy to nudge her daughter here and there if she must. Having eye candy around the house is top priority here. Savannah will just have to find a way to forgive her and get over it if she doesn't like that. "I'll be right back."

Memphis awaits the wine and drinks a sip once he has it, although tentatively. He's heard plenty of things about Mrs. Ford and considering those things, he's a little nervous that she'll one day roofie him and he'll end up being her pool boy. And while he'd be a good pick for that, considering he's usually outside all day anyway, he's not exactly sure how to explain all of that to Savannah. A night starts off with sex and ends with a new job title because he got roped into dinner with her stepmom. Interesting.

the flirty banter between them has always been fun and easy, something savannah could loser herself in in a matter of seconds. the feeling of his fingers tilting her chin up has her heart summersaulting in her chest. her eyes meet his and... she's supposed to be giving him a hard time about something, right? she's supposed to be at least a little miffed at him for being a baby lamb serial killer. but then he smiles at her in that way that he does and he looks so good that savannah decides, fuck it — circle of life, right? sorry lambchop. she raises a brow at him when his hand drops again. "of all things you could be jealous of, you pick the lamb?" she had been enthralled with it, maybe more so than she is with him which is saying something because of the last few months savannah has been wrapped up in all things memphis anderson.

"I'm keepin' my eye on you." He hates to say it but he takes her words a little too far in his mind and he's already racing past go and not collecting two hundred dollars. There were other things for him to be jealous of and that meant that Memphis wasn't the only one vying for his attention. Which logically, he knows. The guys on the ranch like to refer to Savannah Ford as his 'hot friend', considering he's corrected them a few times they've said 'girlfriend', 'fuck buddy', or 'his girl'. But he's made sure they don't think that means that she's open season. Memphis wouldn't be okay with that. Hell, he's barely okay thinking about the fact that she could be having someone else over when he's not there.

He was right, and that’s why she bristled. “It’s not that,” She mumbled. “It’s…the whole romance of it all,” She mumbled. “Hard to write a love story when my love life is in shambles.” Which is why her agent was being so lenient with her. The year extension was given mostly because of publishing schedules, but her agent managed to pull a few strings and convinced them to leave Bennett alone until the fall. She had time, and she had a bare bones plot idea, but it was creating the scenery for two people to fall in love that fucked her up. 

Memphis stares at his assistant for a moment and then maybe another one. If he were a writer, he wouldn't be writing about love. It would be hard to write about something he knows nothing about. "Does it have to be about love? Why don't you just add aliens or something? Pretty sure Carson got abducted by some of them, so he'd probably be a good reference for that kinda stuff." Is it true? He's pretty sure it's not but he'd spread the gossip anyway. "Maybe go true crime and add some murder in there and Vin Diesel." That's the kind of thing he wants to read about.

long lashes flutter dramatically, savannah tilting her head as if to give him a better vantage point to soak in her features and take a stab at describing her. she hums in approval, "sunshine in your veins. see, that's more like it. you're a lot better at that than you're friends." she feels a jolt where his hand wraps around her forearm and her own hand reaches up to idly play with the hem of his jacket. "i was just checkin'," she shrugs before pulling a face. "don't even talk about that." she does her best to make her words sharp. the last time she'd been here the cutest little lamb had followed her around the barn — she'd fallen in love with the damn thing, given it a name. then memphis had broken the news to her that the lambs were being sold off to a slaughter house and broken her heart. she'd sworn off meat right there on the spot. of course, it had lasted all of four days but that's not the point. "i'm still not over the last time. if i never see another adorable baby animal again, it'll be too soon."

There's a hitch in his breathing as she messes with the heavier jacket he's got on him. God, Savannah makes him so fucking weak. All of his friends remind him of this every time they see her on the ranch. She's a distraction, the perfect kind, and one that he loves feeling wrapped up in. Her touch gives him the same adrenaline in his veins that those eight seconds of riding do in front of a crowd of thousands. Memphis wasn't lying when he said 'sunshine straight into his veins'. "I thought you'd like that one," he says, adding to the cheesiest comment-- even if it is true.

"Ah yes," She said, pushing at the wet piece of hair he was lifting and trying to nudge it behind her ear. It didn't work. "I'll add horses fear me to my resume." Another swig of her drink distracted her from his question. Because yes she had been saying it for awhile. "It's not time that's my issue," She admitted, leaning back against her seat. "It's the inspiration that's been abandoning me. Also I'm not leaving you to your own devices right when you've started to get back on the horse....bull...you know what I mean."

"I dunno anything about writin' or makin' a book but ever try to just -- look around. People are always doin' dumb shit around here," he offers. Memphis had graduated high school, sure, but he'd never been much for writing or math. He was the kid who slam-dunked the other kids in every sport in P.E. and who was always running his mouth instead of paying attention. Even if he had some sort of recollection from English in twelfth grade, the concussions he's had would've knocked that shit two ways to Sunday and leaked out. "I mean you probably already tried that but I'd think people are entertainin' enough around here."

savannah's practically got a skip in her step as she works her way through the ranch, making conversation with one of memphis' gruff fellow cowboys — coworkers? — it's mostly one sided with gruff responses, but that's fine as far as sav is concerned. though she has a feeling the sentiment isn't returned as the man practically beelines away from the never-ending chatter that comes from her, promising to send memphis out as soon as he can. it doesn't take long, and savannah's hearts does a stupid little jump at the sight of him. "pretty's a bit of a lacklustre way of describin' me, don'tcha think?" she hums, pouting in an attempt to keep herself from grinning. she fails, of course, because she always seems to when she's around him these days and she feels her lips quirk up into a toothy grin. "and i think it's only stalkin' if you don't want me around — you do want me around, don't you?" her tone is light, teasing in a way that says of course he wants her around because it seems like the two are spending more and more nights together lately. but maybe there's a piece of her, tiny and locked in the furthest corner of her mind, that is seeking out that reassurance.

Memphis licks his lips, giving her a once over, as if he needs to think about whether or not 'pretty' is the right word. It's not. But he's also not really looking to tell her that he's obsessed with her round cheeks and beautiful smile or how it makes him nervous to think that she could be doing these drop-bys for anyone else. "I have a few other things I'd call you, that's for sure. Edible, beautiful... the human equivalent of sunshine straight to my veins," he compliments as he steps up to her. While he keeps enough room for Jesus, Jesus is looking a little thinner these days where these two are concerned. His fingers tingle to touch her and bask in her warmth. " 'Course I want you here, what kind of question is that?" Memphis questions, acting as though he's shocked and confused. His hand finds her forearm with a light squeeze and a matching grin. "Stalk away, I'll even show you the best spots in the house-- or are you comin' to see me for the lambs again?"

It's a nice night out, one of the nicest in a while, so Vivian's decided to sit her ass on the back patio with a crisp glass of chilled chardonnay and a lovely view of the sunset; small pleasures in life that she's irate to have interrupted by the slam of a screen door. She's about to rip Savannah a new one for it — she's only told her a million times to stop fucking doing that — until she sees the true perpetrator come to a stop in front of her. "Oh, hey sweetheart." The grin that spreads across Vivian's lips is slow, almost predatory as she looks the kid up and down like it's a treat and a privilege to do so.

Evenings in Sweetwater have been a different kind of nice since he's been with Savannah most nights. Although he'd like to attribute it to the warmer nights which make the trek over to her trailer easier, he knows it's because of Savannah. He can't stop himself from feeling a little embarrassed though. The sneaking around thing was supposed to be working out. Clearly, he's been caught-- again. "Oh, I wasn't planning on stayin' for dinner..." he fades off, rubbing his chin. Looking back at the trailer and back to Vivian, he smiles. "Not sure if Sav wants me doing that... but sure, I guess I'll stay, I'll take wine." She said she wasn't taking no for an answer anyway.

"Oh thank you," Bennett glanced up and batted her eyelashes. It was hard to view Memphis as her boss even though that's technically what he was. First of all he was only a little bit older than her, and second of all she has watched random women sneak out of his house or hotel room. That made things a little more casual. Bennett wasn't complaining though, he was a good person to hang around. "But don't bullshit me I look like a drowned rat." She took a swig of her beer that had gone far too warm by now. "Feel like a drowned rat."

"At least you'll freak all the horses out and make them run away," he shrugs, picking up a piece of Bennett's damp hair before letting it plop back into place. While she'd only been working for him for a couple of months, it was going pretty well, but while he tended to be pretty laid back, she seemed to be the push he was looking for. But not in an annoying way. Which was more than he could say for the other candidates he was looking at. A quick recommendation bumped Bennett to the top of his list. "You've been saying that for a bit, don't you think? If you need time off or something, just take it. I'm not worried about it."

Bennett didn't check the weather. She shouldn't have to check the weather. If she wakes up one day and the sun is shining and it's a beautiful seventy degrees, why should she be anticipating freezing cold weather the next? Today it was freezing rain she wasn't anticipating, and she walked outside with her hair freshly straightened in her favorite dress ready to take on the world.

Memphis takes his seat next to Bennett, placing his drink on the shitty table that he's sure has a month's worth of gum underneath it. "Nope. -- You're a pretty, pretty pony," he smirks, nudging her with his elbow. Peaking over at her laptop, he takes a look at the screen. His eyes fall back to hers. "You better not be workin'. It's Saturday and I'm right here. No need to keep track of my calendar when it's just got me here," he assures her, pointing at her computer. While a comeback is in the cards here soon, he's not exactly the most organized. Memphis figures as soon as the spring actually makes its way to Texas, he'll be looking at the open road. The problem is, he's not sure how long he can do that without the fancy sponsorships and without bleeding his bank account dry. He's not bad off, but he's in his early thirties meaning there won't be many more seasons in this body of his. Thankfully, Bennett is trying to figure this all out for him-- or she's at least ready on the phone if someone does call.