by Nora Roberts
COOP MEASURED OUT grain while the sun streamed through the loft windows. He could hear his grandmother singing as she fed the chickens, and their clucking accompaniment. In the stalls, horses chuffed and chewed.
It was funny how it all came back—the smells, the sounds, the quality of light and shadow. It had been two years since he’d fed a horse or groomed one, since he’d sat down at a big kitchen table at dawn to a plate of flapjacks.
It might have been yesterday.
The constant was a comfort, he supposed, when so much of his life was in flux. He remembered lying on a flat rock by the stream with Lil, years before, and how she’d known what she wanted. She still did.
He still didn’t.
The house, the fields, the hills, just the same as he’d left them. His grandparents, too, he thought. Had he really thought them old all those years before? They seemed so sturdy and steady to him now, as if the eight years since hadn’t touched them.
They’d sure as hell touched Lil.
When had she gotten so . . . well, prime?
Even two years before she’d just been Lil. Pretty, sure—she’d always been pretty. But he’d barely thought of her as a girl, much less a girl.
A girl with curves and lips, and eyes that put his blood on charge when she looked at him.
It wasn’t right to think of her that way. Probably. They were friends, best friends. He wasn’t supposed to notice she had breasts, much less obsess on what they’d felt like pressed into his back while they’d roared down the road on his bike.
Firm and soft and fascinating.
He sure as hell wasn’t supposed to have a sex dream about getting his hands on those breasts—and the rest of her.
But he had. Twice.
He bridled a yearling, as his grandfather had asked, and let the filly out to the corral to work her on the line.
With the stock fed and watered, the eggs gathered, Lucy walked over to sit on the fence and watch.
“She’s got some sass to her,” she said when the filly kicked up her hind legs.
“Energy to spare.” Coop switched leads, worked her in a circle.
“Picked her name yet?”
Coop smiled. Since Jones it had been tradition for him to name a yearling every season whether he made it out to the farm or not. “She’s got that pretty, dappled coat. I’m thinking Freckles.”
“Suits her. You’ve got a way, Cooper, with the naming, and the horses. You always did.”
“I miss them when I’m back east.”
“And when you’re here, you miss back east. It’s natural enough,” she continued when he didn’t speak. “You’re young. You haven’t settled yet.”
“I’m almost twenty, Grandma. It feels like I should know what I’m after. Hell, by my age you were married to Grandpa.”
“Different times, different place. Twenty’s younger in some ways than it once was, older in others. You’ve got time to do that settling.”
He looked back at her—sturdy, her hair shorter, with a bit of curl, the lines around her eyes deeper—but the same. Just as it was the same that he could say what was on his mind, or in his heart, and know she’d listen.
“Do you wish you’d taken more? More time?”
“Me? No, because I ended up right here, sitting on this fence watching my grandson train that pretty filly. But my way’s not yours. I married at eighteen, had my first baby before I was twenty, and barely been east of the Mississippi my whole life. That’s not you, Cooper.”
“I don’t know what me is. First?” He looked back at her. “You said first baby.”
“We lost two after your ma. That was hard. Still is. I think it’s why me and Jenna got close so quick. She had a stillbirth and then a miscarriage after Lil.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Things happen, and you go on. That’s all there is. If you’re lucky you get something out of it. I got you, didn’t I? And Jenna and Josiah, they got Lil.”
“Lil sure seems to know what she wants.”
“The girl does have her eyes forward.”
“So . . .” He aimed for casual. “Is she seeing anyone? A guy, I mean.”
“I took your meaning,” Lucy said drily. “Nobody in particular I’ve heard about. The Nodock boy did a lot of sniffing around in that direction, but it didn’t seem Lil was interested overmuch.”
“Nodock? Gull? But, Jesus, he’s twenty-two or -three. He’s too old to be hanging around Lil.”
“Not Gull, Jesse. His brother. Younger. He’d be about your age. Would you be sniffing in that direction, Cooper?”
“Me? Lil? No.” Crap, he thought. Just crap. “We’re friends, that’s all. She’s practically like a sister.”
Her face bland, Lucy tapped her boot heel on the fence. “Your grandfather and I were friendly when we were coming up. Though I don’t recall him ever thinking of me as a sister. Still, that Lil, she’s got her eyes forward, like I said. Girl’s got plans.”
“She always did.”
When work was done for the day, Coop thought about saddling one of the horses for a long, hard ride. He wished it could be Jones, but the yearling he’d once helped train had become one of the stars of his grandparents’ tourist trade.
He considered his options, had just about settled on the big roan gelding named Tick, when he saw Lil walking toward the corral.
It was lowering to admit, but his mouth went dry.
She wore jeans and a bright red shirt, scuffed boots, and a worn-in gray hat with a wide, flat brim, and her long black hair loose under it.
When she got to the fence, she tapped the saddlebag slung over her shoulder. “I’ve got a picnic in here I’m looking to share. Anybody interested?”
“Might be.”
“The thing is, I need to borrow a horse. I’ll barter this cold fried chicken for a ride.”
“Take your pick.”
Angling her head, she gestured with her chin. “I like the look of that piebald mare.”
“I’ll get you a saddle, and let my grandparents know.”
“I stopped in the house first. They’re fine with it. We’ve got a lot of day left. Might as well take advantage.” She draped the saddlebag over the fence. “I know where the tack is. Go ahead, get your own horse saddled.”
Friends or not, he didn’t see the harm in watching her walk away, or noticing how her jeans fit as she did.
They set to work, with a rhythm both of them knew well. When Coop lifted her saddlebag, he winced. “That’s a lot of chicken.”
“I’ve got my recorder and camera, and . . . stuff. You know I like to make a record when I’m out on a trail. I was thinking we could head for the creek, then take one of the spur trails through the forest. Get a good gallop on the way there, then it’s pretty scenery.”
He shot her a knowing look. “Cougar territory?”
“The couple I’ve tracked this year cover that area. But that’s not why.” She smiled as she swung into the saddle. “It’s just a pretty ride, and there’s a stream where the forest opens up. It’s a nice spot for a picnic. It’s a good hour from here though, if you’d rather something closer.”
“I can work up a good appetite in an hour.” He vaulted onto his horse, settled his hat more securely on his head. “Which way?”
“Southwest.”
“Race ya.”
He gave the gelding a light kick. They galloped across the farmyard and through the fields.
There’d been a time, Lil thought, when she’d been the better rider, and by a long shot. Now she had to admit they were on level ground. The mare was her advantage, being light and quick, so with the wind in her hair, Lil reached the thin line of trees less than a length in the lead.
Laughing, eyes bright, she leaned forward to give the mare a congratulatory pat on the neck. “Where do you ride in New York?”
“I don’t.”
She straightened in the saddle. “You’re saying you haven’t sat a horse in two years?”
He shrugged. “It’s like riding a bike.”
“No, it’s like riding a horse. How do you . . .” She trailed off, shook her head, and began to walk the horse into the pines.
“How do I what?”
“Well, how do you stand not doing something you love?”
“I do other stuff.”
“Such as?”
“Ride a motorcycle, hang out, listen to music.”
“Chase girls.”
He gave her a grin. “They don’t run very fast.”
She let out a hoot. “I bet they don’t. How does CeeCee feel about you being out here all summer.”
He shrugged again as they crossed a flat bordered by trees and boulders. “We’re not serious. She’s got her thing, I’ve got mine.”
“I thought you two were tight.”
“Not especially. I heard you were hooking up with Jesse Nodock.”
“God, no!” Tossing back her head, she laughed. “He’s nice enough, but kind of dopey. Plus all he really wants to do is wrestle.”
“Wrestle? Why . . .” Something dark crept into his eyes. “You mean with you? You’ve been doing it with Nodock?”
“I have not. I went out with him a couple times. I don’t much like the way he kisses. A little on the sloppy side of things, to my taste. He needs to practice his technique.”
“You know a lot about technique?”
She slanted him a look, a slow smile. “I’m doing an informal study. Look.” As they were riding abreast, she reached out to touch his arm, then pointed. In the far edges of the trees, a herd of deer stopped to stare back at them. Lil dug out her recorder.
“Six white-tail, four doe, two fawns. Aren’t they sweet? A buck’s been through here, too, not long ago.”
“How do you know that, Tonto?”
“Look at the bark. Scrape marks from a buck rubbing his antlers. Some of that’s fresh, Mr. New York.”
This, too, was familiar, he thought. Riding with her, listening to her point out the tracks, the wildlife, the signs. He’d missed that.
“What else do you see?”
“Marmot tracks, and mule deer. There’s a red squirrel up in that tree. You’ve got eyes.”
“Not like yours.”
“Cat’s been through here, but not recently.”
He watched her, only her. He couldn’t seem to do otherwise, not when the sunlight dappled on her face, and those dark eyes were so alive, so intent. “Okay, how do you know?”
“Those scrape marks? That’s cougar, but they’re old, probably from a male marking his territory last mating season. He’s moved on, at least for now. They don’t stay with the female or the family. Screw and hit the road. That’s a guy for you.”
“About this informal poll.”
She laughed, and clucked to the mare.
4
It was easy to fall into a routine, into the comfortable zone of it. Hot days, hard work, and sudden storms. Lil spent nearly every free moment with Coop, on horseback or hiking, batting balls, or on fast rides on his bike. She lay in the grass with him and counted stars, sat on the banks of a stream and shared picnics.
And he never made a move.
She didn’t understand it. She’d barely looked cross-eyed at Jesse and he’d been all over her. Dirk Pleasant, too, when all she’d done was take a couple of spins on the Ferris wheel with him at the carnival last summer.
She knew the look a boy got in his eye now when he thought about a girl that way. She’d swear she’d seen that look in Coop’s aimed in her direction.
So why wasn’t he all over her?
Obviously it was time to take the bull by the horns.
She drove the bike, carefully, nearly to the end of the farm road. Concentrated, muttering instructions to herself on the turn, then drove it back to where Coop stood, watching her.
She kept the speed dignified, only because the couple of times she’d burned it, he’d gotten really mad.
“Okay, I’ve driven back and forth six times today.” Though her hand twitched, she resisted gunning the engine. “You’ve got to let me take it out on the road, Coop. Get on, let’s take a ride.”
“You almost ditched it on the turn.”
“Almost doesn’t count.”
“It does on my bike. I’m still paying for it. You want a ride, I’ll drive.”
“Come on.” She got off, took off her helmet. Deliberately shook back her hair before taking the Coke bottle from him to drink. She tried on the sultry look she’d practiced in the mirror. “One mile up, one mile back.” Smiling, she traced a finger down his throat, moved in a little closer. “It’s a straight shot, and . . . I’ll make it worth your while.”
His eyes narrowed. “What’re you doing?”
She cocked her head. “If you have to ask, I must not be doing it right.”
He didn’t step back; she didn’t move the hand that rested lightly on his chest. His heartbeat speeded up a little. Surely that was a good sign.
“You need to be careful how you come on to guys, Lil. They’re not all me.”
“You’re the only one I’m coming on to.”
Temper—hardly the reaction she’d been after—lit in his eyes. “I’m not your practice dummy.”
“I wasn’t practicing. But I guess you’re not interested.” With a shrug, she set the Coke on the seat of the bike. “Thanks for the lesson.” Insulted, embarrassed, she started for the first cattle gate.
She supposed he just went for city girls, with their city ways. Mr. New York City. Well, that was fine, that was just fine, she didn’t need him to—
His hand gripped her arm, and he spun her around so fast her body plowed into his. Temper sparked off him just as it did her.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” he demanded.
“What the hell’s wrong with you? You don’t trust me to drive your stupid bike for a couple of miles, you don’t want to kiss me. You act like I’m still nine years old. If you’re not interested that way, then you should just say so instead of—”
He yanked her up to her toes, and his mouth was on hers. So hard, so fast. Nothing like the others, she thought, dizzy. Nothing like the other boys.
His lips were hot, his tongue quick. Something inside her went loose, as if a knot gave way, and every inch of her—inside and out—flashed with light, with heat.
It felt as if her heart would beat its way right out of her chest.
She shoved him back, trying to catch her breath. “Wait a minute, wait a minute.”
Everything went bright and sharp. Dazzling. Who needed to breathe, she thought, and leaped back into his arms with a force that knocked them both to the ground.
She stopped his heart. He’d have sworn it stopped beating when he’d gone crazy and kissed her. For that instant, it had been like death—and then everything blasted back to life.