“It’s lovely! I guess I’ve never climbed this hill before.”
“See that wide spot in the creek down there?” he asked, pointing to the north. “The current runs pretty fast on the far side where the creek bends around that finger of land, but in the area close to the near-side bank, the water’s much calmer. And surprisingly deep. It was mine and my brothers’ favorite spot to swim when we were growing up. Must be springs under the creek bed because the water stayed cold, even in the heat of the summer.”
It struck her then how it must chafe him to have a place so special to him and his brothers no longer on his own land. An ache in her heart, she said, “You can still come to swim whenever you like.”
“Careful what you ask for. We never bothered with swimsuits,” he said, and then laughed when she blushed.
“Hungry?” he asked. “I already brought up the blanket and the basket. If you’re ready to eat, I’ll walk back down and get the wine while you enjoy the view. Sit if you like. And don’t worry, I pre-screened the area against fire ants and other obnoxious critters.”
“As long as there are no snakes or coyotes, I’m good.”
“No, ma’am. They’ve been ordered clean out of the county for the duration.”
“I’m much obliged.”
Feeling pampered—and loving it—Harrison seated herself on the blanket, gazed down at the lazy creek meandering below her, and took a deep breath of the sun-warmed air, redolent of rock, grass, and meadow.
She didn’t think she’d ever been to a lovelier picnic spot, and she couldn’t imagine anyone she’d rather share it with than Duncan. Which was only right. This place had been his long before it had become hers.
She watched as he walked to her truck, pulled out the cooler, and gestured to her. After she returned a thumbs-up, she continued watching as he carried it back toward her, her lips curving into a smile as she appreciated the easy grace of his lean body and confident, rangy gait.
This was a man she could spend forever with.
The thought didn’t scare her nearly as much as it should.
You will not wonder about his intentions, or second-guess, or worry, she told herself. You’re just going to enjoy this moment and this glorious, beautiful day.
By this time, he’d made it back up the hill. Coming to where she sat on the blanket, he set down the cooler.
“Thank you for all this.” She gestured to the blanket, the picnic basket, and the view.
He smiled. “After the calving and the calculations and the coyotes, you needed to relax. I thought maybe you’d like this better than boot-scooting at Buddy’s.”
She chuckled. “Much more my style. Hopeless stick in the mud that I am.”
“I wouldn’t call it that. Not that I don’t enjoy a little honky-tonking from time to time, but I’d say it’s being clear-sighted enough to recognize what’s important and beautiful. What lasts. Work. Land. Love.”
A lump rising in her throat, she nodded.
As if as uncertain as she was about the suddenly serious turn of the conversation, he said, “Ready to eat?”
“Starved.”
“You open the wine, I’ll set everything out.”
Preoccupied for a few minutes with opening the bottle, she set it down and blinked in surprise at the array he’d just arranged before them. Tortillas, taco salad, deviled eggs, pickled jalapenos, plus an assortment of cheese and crackers, along with plates, cutlery, and napkins.
“Quite impressive! You made all this?”
“Except for jalapenos and spicy eggs—those are Isabella’s specialties.”
“Along with grilling a great steak and fixing super stuffed baked potatoes, you have more culinary skills than I imagined.”
“A bachelor needs to know how to cook unless he wants to subsist on frozen pizzas and takeout. My stepmom was adamant that all us boys learn our way around a kitchen. If only to better appreciate the meals someone else prepared for us. Shall we?”
“Let me reward you with a nice big glass of viognier.”
“First, I’ve got one more thing.” From inside the basket, he pulled out a vase containing a bouquet of yellow roses. “A hard-working lady deserves fresh flowers with her lunch.”
Picking up the vase, she inhaled the sweet perfume. “Flowers too? Now I really feel spoiled!”
“Just for you, Cowgirl. After all you’ve been through the last few months, you deserve some spoiling.”
“Careful, I might get used to this,” she warned as she set the vase back down.
“Don’t worry. I’ll have you hauling barbed wire and chasing cows again soon enough.”
“Bring me down to earth, why don’t you?” she said with a chuckle.
“Never. You’ve had troubles enough. I’d like you to soar forever.”
I could . . . with you at my side, she thought. Pushing away that beguiling thought, she said, “Are the roses from your ranch? They don’t look like the hot house variety.”
“From bushes just now coming into bloom. My Mama planted them almost twenty years ago. I hardly remember her—she died when Brice was born. Most of what I know of her, my stepmom told me. Miss Dorothy was Mama’s cousin. She came to Whiskey River to help out Daddy when he was struggling with three little boys and a ranch to run. They ended up marrying—though she told me Mama was the great love of his life.”
“How sad for your stepmom!”
“I know that sounds bad, but Miss Dorothy loved her cousin and never resented the love Daddy felt for Mama. She and Daddy loved and respected each other too, in a quieter way, she said. And she was grateful for every year they had together. Every spring, when these roses would start to bloom, she’d tell us that their fragrance was like love. Sweet and precious and freely given.”
Harrison felt tears sting her eyes. “That’s beautiful.”
He took a rose and brushed it against her lips. “Sweet and precious and freely given,” he whispered.
She stared up at him, transfixed by the intensity of his gaze. Just when she thought he’d bend down and kiss her, he leaned back and set the vase back on the blanket.
“Let’s have some of that wine.”
Accepting his withdrawal, Harrison let herself subside into the simmer of sensual attraction that always hummed between them and directed her efforts to doling out the food.
For the next half hour, they enjoyed the feast and the wine, Harrison asking Duncan for more detailed information about the branding and vaccinating chores she’d soon have to begin once the calving season concluded.
“I ran into one of my Daddy’s old friends at the diner the other night, Bob Hensen,” Duncan said. “He asked how things were going on your place and offered to talk with his son and some of the hands that work the ranches hereabouts to round up a group of volunteers that can come over to help you. They can fill in the gaps when I can’t find time.”
“How kind of them!”
“All his fellow ranchers liked and respected your Daddy. They know he’d expect us all to give you a hand, just as he’d be happy to help out anyone who needed it.”
“I’d better stock up on supplies. If I’m going to have volunteers, I’ll need to cook up a large supply of my Mama’s chicken stew to feed them.”
“I’m sure they’d appreciate it.”
Leaning back against the large rock, Duncan lapsed into silence, staring into the distance as he sipped at his wine. It wasn’t unusual for conversation between them to lag, but usually it led into an easy, companionable silence.
This was . . . different. Harrison sensed a sort of tension about Duncan. Despite his lounging position, his body was alert, his expression serious.
Alarm rising in her, she said, “Is something wrong?”
His lips curved into a half smile. “I don’t know. Maybe you need to tell me. Whether it’s wrong—or completely right.”
With that, he set down his glass, reached over to pull her against him, and kissed her.
Long, slow, s
weet—but with an undercurrent of the same urgent passion she’d sensed in him when he’d kissed her in the pasture after the coyote attack.
When he finally let her go, she was breathing so hard and her brain was so scrambled, he’d already begun speaking before comprehension caught up.
“I know I promised you I’d go slow,” he was saying. “But I’m not sure I can do that much longer. I . . . I think you need to know that I’m falling in love with you. Do you think you might . . . be able to see a future here—with me?”
Shock and delight shot through her, followed closely by alarm. Even as part of her rejoiced that he was expressing for her the same deepening intensity of emotion she felt for him, her scarred, scared heart held back. Torn between throwing herself into his arms with a fervent “yes!” and scooting out of range before her enthusiastic senses could seize control from her brain completely, she sat speechless. Though she was pretty sure she was falling for him, was she really ready to admit it—and trust him with her heart?
“Say something, please, Cowgirl. I’m about to have a heart attack here.”
“Sorry! You must know I . . . I feel the same about you. I just can’t figure out whether I’m more thrilled or terrified about it.”
Blowing out a breath of relief, he reached over and twined his fingers with hers, his large hand cradling her smaller one.
“It is scary, isn’t it? I’ve tried to hold back . . . but when I thought you were hurt the other day, and I thought about what my life would be without you, the idea was . . . intolerable. We can still take it slow. No need to make any sudden moves. I’m not going anywhere, and I hope you aren’t either. But I thought it was only fair to both of us for you to know how I feel. And for me to find out whether you think someday you might feel the same. Not that it would change anything about our working together now, if you don’t.”
“I . . . I think I might. Actually, I’m pretty sure I do,” she admitted.
“Hot damn,” he whispered and kissed her again.
His mouth started sweet but swiftly grew more hungry. He lay her back against the blanket, leaning over her body, his strength and hardness pressed against her as he nipped and teased and tempted her.
The desire he always excited quickly had her senses aflame, her body urging her to unbutton his shirt, pull his hands down to caress her breasts.
But that road led down a path from which there was no return, a danger strong enough that fear was still able to overcome lust. So she pulled away. As always, he immediately let her go.
“Sorry. I’m hanging by a thread at resisting giving you everything, but as I think you’ve already guessed, I don’t do ‘everything.’ Unless it truly means everything. And I . . . I still need more time.”
“‘Everything’ is what I want too. If you think the road we’re on will lead there, I’m happy to walk it with you at whatever pace you want. As long as you’ll let me kiss you and court you the way the woman a man wants to spend the rest of his life with should be courted.”
“I’m sorry I can’t just say ‘yes’ this minute. A part of me wants to, more than you can imagine.”
“Don’t be sorry, Cowgirl. You’ve always given me honesty. I value that more than you can imagine.”
She gave a short laugh. “Oh, yes I can. I value it as much as you do. Which is why I won’t promise any more right now than that I am ready to continue down that road with you.”
“You’ve only been here two months. You can’t expect to have your heart broken and be whole again in a flash. Repairing Humpty Dumpty takes time.”
“How good are you with glue and duct tape?”
“After all the lean years we had at the Triple A? Cowgirl, I’m the best! All I needed to find out today was whether we were looking for the same thing. So I’d know how to . . . act going forward. If you think we are, that’s enough for now.”
“I don’t want to keep you waiting too long. That’s not fair either.”
Pulling her hand to his lips, he kissed each finger in turn. “I’ll just have to keep giving you reasons to make up your mind. Now, though, we’ve got chores to do. Got new babies to chase before they get big enough to outrun us.”
In one lazy move, he stood, pulling her up to stand beside him. “Being with you makes me so happy, Cowgirl.”
Harrison’s heart somersaulted with such an upswing of joy, she almost blurted out her love right then and there. Only a stubborn, pain-born caution kept her silent.
“Being with you make me happy too,” she said instead.
“Good. Let’s get this cleaned up.” After kissing the tip of her nose, Duncan started gathering up the plates, utensils, and serving dishes. Harrison assisted, then helped him fold the quilt on which they’d been sitting. Letting her take the cooler, he hefted the folded blanket and the picnic basket and walked her back to the vehicles.
“Shall I meet you back at the barn to load the gear?” he asked.
“Yes. Just give me a minute to put the cooler away and grab my barn coat.”
Before she could climb up into her truck, he caught her shoulder. “Just one more?”
Smiling, she leaned up, her arms encircling his neck while he gave her another of those long, honey-sweet, sense-stirring kisses full of a simmering passion held under steely control.
She longed for the day when her wary heart was ready to abandon all restraint and unleash that passion for them both.
At last, he broke the kiss and pulled her into his arms, just holding her, his chin resting on her head. “Ah, Cowgirl, I could do that all day and all night. But that won’t get the chores done. See you in a few?”
“In a few,” she nodded.
She watched him as he walked back to his truck, then turned to grin at her. “Yee-haw!” he shouted, his fist pumping the air while she laughed, then hopping in his truck and driving away.
Chapter Fifteen
One afternoon a week later, Harrison tossed her briefcase in the truck and headed into town with the last of Mel Gardiner’s tax paperwork. They’d officially finished the calving a few days ago, and she’d already met with the delegation of volunteers from area ranches Bob Hensen had organized to augment Duncan’s help when they began the vaccinating and branding. She’d also spoken with Frank Tyler and settled on a price to have him begin mowing the hay in the pastures.
After picking up the mail, she’d stop by Riva’s for a coffee—and also to talk with the owner. When she’d called Mel to arrange the delivery of her documents, the bookstore owner had told her she’d raved to Riva about how helpful Harrison had been with her tax filing. The café owner, Mel said, had expressed interest in maybe having Harrison take a look at hers too.
Which might be a good thing, Harrison thought as she pulled out of the driveway onto the county road. Cash flow on the ranch was getting precarious, and there wouldn’t be much income until she sold off the handful of culls who had either produced sub-standard calves, or had so much difficulty calving Duncan advised that she not try to breed them again.
Although her own needs were modest, she was determined to continue paying Juan until he could work again. She knew her father’s longtime employee didn’t have much in the way of savings to tide him over should he not receive his usual salary.
Taking on a few part-time accounting jobs could fill the income gap and avoid the need for her to tap into her own savings.
Aside from cash flow worries, the last week had been wonderful. Duncan had been wooing her in earnest, each day bringing her a bouquet of flowers, or a book he thought she’d enjoy, or a funny card. They’d had dinner together every night, either him grilling steaks or making his “famous” lasagna for her at the Triple A, or her throwing something in the oven and tossing a salad for them at the ranch.
They’d talked long into the evenings of everything from ranching to her vagabond life growing up, moving from Navy base to Navy base, to his boyhood roaming the hills and valleys around Whiskey River.
And every night he�
�d kissed her—tenderly, gently, deeply, teasing and tempting her, arousing her completely, but always holding back. Until she wasn’t sure whether she was more frustrated with unsatisfied need or grateful for his forbearance.
He was an old-fashioned guy, he’d told her when she’d complained that he was driving her crazy. Hard as it was on both of them, he wasn’t going to make her his until she was ready to wear his ring and set a date. With a suddenly bleak look in his eyes that made her heart ache, he added that he’d settled for less than everything once, paid the price, and didn’t intend to do that again.
Rubbing a thumb over her kiss-sensitized lips, he added he wasn’t going to take everything until he could have everything.
When she retorted that it wasn’t fair for him to use her own words against her, he’d just laughed. If she wanted relief, he replied, she only had to say the word. One single word.
Yes.
Maybe she should. What was she waiting for, after all? Sooner or later, she’d have to make a leap of faith. She had no doubt that the Duncan she saw, the man who’d stepped up to help her, had taught her so much about managing her stock and her land, had been everything that was sympathetic and patient, was the real Duncan.
They were wasting time and resources, living in two separate ranch houses.
Tonight, Mel had insisted on treating her to a light dinner at the Wheels & Barrels wine and cheese shop on the square. But maybe tomorrow . . . maybe tomorrow, she would gather enough courage to trust in what they shared and tell him “yes.”
For the first time, the prospect settled deep within her with the ring of truth . . . and without the undercurrent of fear that had held her back every other time she’d tried to convince herself she was ready. It seemed her heart had finally overcome the worry that he might care more about her land than about her.
The Rancher Page 15