by Debra Dixon
“That’s only fair,” agreed Niki, feeling unaccountably charmed by the subtle way Zach disguised his gift as a favor and an obligation.
Zach, who refused to be drawn into the discussion, looked at his watch. “Let’s get going. I’ll take Brass with me. Keep ’em moving, John.”
“Will do.” John saluted and cantered off.
Niki didn’t recall ever laughing so much or enjoying the company of a man more than Zach’s. They swapped “most embarrassing moment” stories, told bad jokes, compared college days, and talked more about the farm-dog training seminars he gave at the ranch. Zach managed to look a bit self-conscious when he admitted that people came from all over the United States to train with him. She even enjoyed the companionable silences that fell between them as they rode.
Over an early lunch, Zach teased her about her appetite and took her to task over some of her columns. Relaxing for the first time in days, Niki argued issues with him as she dug into the sandwiches. Once the sandwiches disappeared, she sank her teeth into one of the heavenly homemade fried-peach pies that Bess sent with the truck of supplies. As she popped the last bite in her mouth, the faint bleating of the sheep brought Brass to his feet.
“Almost there?” Niki asked as she licked the sticky peach syrup from her lips. When she stuck the tip of her finger in her mouth, Zach’s answer stilled the sucking motion and sent a wave of heat cascading through her.
“Not yet. But I’m getting there. Come here, Niki.”
Frozen in place, Niki tried to settle the butterflies in her belly. Zach’s gaze never wavered as she pulled her finger out of her mouth to say, “The truck …”
“Can wait.”
Zach didn’t move. He wanted her to come to him, to make the decision, to jump the fence. When Niki scrambled up, he cursed, grabbed the blanket, and followed her to the horses. “You’re going to drive me crazy, Niki.”
“Good. I’d hate to make the trip alone.”
His laughter broke the tension. Zach tied the blanket to his gear and stepped into the saddle. “Let’s go. Woolies are waiting.”
Woolies. Zach talked like a rancher, looked like a rancher. Why did he need to be anything else?
As they topped the hill, she saw that the land was sectioned off like civilized property. The sections were still enormous by anyone’s standards, but the real world was definitely getting closer. The pasture in front of them was divided into a smaller holding pen and a larger pasture beyond that held twenty or so sheep, scattered about and grazing contentedly in the sun. At the first gate Niki sensed a change in Brass. His panting stopped abruptly, and he lowered his head, dark eyes riveted on the sheep as he waited for Zach to slip the latch on the gate.
“You can’t teach a dog to do that, can you?” Niki asked as she dismounted.
“You can encourage instinct, but you can’t teach it.”
Zach tied their horses and unlocked the holding-pen gate, letting Brass arrow through first. As Niki passed through the gate he closed it behind her. They walked in silence, each enjoying the brilliant autumn day, until they reached the second gate.
“Brass hates to see his woolies spread around the pasture. It frustrates him,” Zach said. “Only his training keeps him from jumping the fence and gathering his sheep.”
“Are they his sheep?”
“He thinks so.”
Shoving her hands in the pockets of her jeans, Niki asked, “And what do you think?”
“I think he’d have a hard time convincing Snicker of that.”
As Zach opened the pasture gate for Brass he said, “Ss-sh,” obviously a command. The dog raced into the pasture, circling wide, preparing to gather the sheep and bring them to his master.
“That’s the out run,” Zach said softly. “I don’t think a dog in America does it better than Brass. He’s smooth and quiet. The sheep won’t even know he’s there until he’s behind them.”
The dog crept up behind the animals and stopped, one foot extended, eyeing a couple of ewes who noticed him. Cautiously the ewes took a few steps away. Brass walked up, forcing the sheep away from him and toward his master. When he had them all moving, Brass kept a steady pace behind the sheep—not close enough that fear would send them scattering, and not so far back that the sheep felt safe enough to stop. Soon the sheep spilled into the holding pen, and Zach closed the pasture gate as Brass came through.
Dog and sheep moved with studied grace, almost as if they were rehearsing for a ballet. Whereas driving cattle had been hard, raw work, gathering sheep seemed more a maneuver of finesse, a million tiny adjustments creating the perfect ballet. Suddenly, Niki realized why Zach had wanted her to come with him today. He wanted her to see this.
“You love the ranch. Wyoming. All of this. Don’t you?” she asked softly, realizing that loving Zach was more complicated than loving the cowboy.
“That I do.” He gave Brass a hand signal to turn the sheep and hold them against a corner of the pen while he and Niki slipped out the gate. “Even before I had the dogs, when I was a kid home from boarding school, I’d go out to the pasture by the house, sit on the fence, and wonder how the world could be so damn beautiful and so unfair.”
“Unfair?”
Zach raked a hand through the short hair above his collar and frowned, as if he’d said more than he intended. “I used to think so.”
His voice was flat and dispassionate, but the hesitation before he answered told Niki all she needed to know. Zach had his own demons, and personal demons were something she understood. “How old were you?”
“When I started bringing my troubles to the fence?” At Niki’s nod, he continued. “My grandfather said the first time he found me out on the fence was after my mother’s funeral. She died when I was six.”
Closing her eyes, Niki sucked in a shallow breath. “I’m sorry.”
Zach shrugged and shook his head as he leaned against the holding-pen gate to wait for the truck. “Don’t be. It was a long time ago.”
“But not forgotten.” Her voice was almost a challenge and inexplicably full of comfort.
“No, not forgotten,” he admitted as he met her gaze. Her eyes trapped him, made him forget that wanting was dangerous. And he wanted Niki. Wanted more from her than just sex and good company. He wanted to know what she thought and how she felt. He wanted to sit across the breakfast table from her and fight over whose turn it was to do the crossword. He wanted her to open up to him. He wanted to know her. And maybe to get what he wanted, he’d have to start by giving her a piece of himself that she could believe in and hold on to.
“A long time ago, but not forgotten. I went out into the pasture and pounded my six-year-old fists into the fence posts. Over and over. I wanted something to hurt as bad as I did. I remember trying to figure out why she left me. At six, your first response to death is to try to make a deal with God. I thought if I promised to be good, she’d come back. I made a lot of promises that first year.”
Niki swallowed a lump in her throat and reached out to him. “Oh, Zach. I didn’t mean to—”
“Shh.” Zach placed a finger against her lips as he drew her closer. “Of course you did. You need to know what kind of man I am. What makes me tick. The truth is, since I met you, I don’t know. I’ve spent a lifetime teaching myself how to avoid disappointment, how to avoid all my father’s mistakes.”
He took his hands away and laughed humorlessly. “I don’t honestly know how many times he’s been married. He doesn’t believe in happily-ever-after.”
“Do you?”
Zach looked at her sharply, but didn’t answer the question. “My mother’s death eliminated the need for a messy divorce. After she died, Pop climbed on the marriage-go-round. The first time he married, I thought, maybe, maybe, life would be okay. Pop would settle down, notice me. This nice woman would love Pop and love me. Finally I’d belong to someone. We’d have arguments, real knock-down-drag-outs. And it wouldn’t matter, because she’d love me anyway. It was such a wonde
rful idea, I kept right on believing until wife number four.” He laughed again. “I am an expert at caring for women who are going to leave me.”
For a fleeting moment Niki felt the frustration and anger of a lonely boy no one cared enough to fight for. And then the anger gave way to the need to erase the hurt in his eyes. Without hesitation she lifted her hands to his face, let her palms soak up the rough texture of his jaw line. With her thumb she traced the chiseled outline of his mouth, memorized each feature. Then, very softly, she said, “I’m here now.”
“For how long?” he whispered.
“I don’t know.” She knew it wasn’t the answer he wanted, but it was honest.
“Niki—” Zach warned as she burrowed her fingers in his hair and parted her lips in invitation.
“Zach,” Niki echoed, pulling his head down and murmuring the name against his mouth.
The kiss was velvet on velvet, warmth on warmth, intimate and gentle. A promise and a confession. A kiss of old love rediscovered. And desire shimmered beneath it all, erupting when Zach tilted her head back so that he could press his lips to the pulse at the base of her throat. His hand soon slipped beneath her shirt and found her breast.
Neither of them heard the rumble of a big truck engine in the distance or the slam of a pickup truck door a few feet away.
“Dammit, Zach! I came out here to keep you from making a mistake, but I can see that you’ve already made it.”
Zach sobered instantly, his head snapping up at the sound of the familiar voice. Niki tried to pull away from him. Her cheeks filled with color. Not now, Zach thought as he held on to her and rested his forehead briefly against hers, somehow trying to tell her without words that everything was going to be fine. Zach captured her hand firmly in his as he turned to face Senator Chase Anderson.
“Hello, Chase. I’m fine, and you?” Zach acted as though he were inviting the elder statesman onto the porch for lemonade instead of acting like a man who’d been caught in a compromising position.
“Don’t start with me, Zach. I didn’t come out here to shoot the breeze. I flew back from Washington to have a few blunt words with you. And I mean to have ’em. Regardless of your plans for the day.”
Mortified, Niki could barely keep her chin up. Paralyzing dread infiltrated every cell in her body. Short of a physical tug-of-war, Niki saw no way to free her hand from Zach’s or put an end to the humiliation of the senator’s scrutiny. None of the nightmares she’d had in the last eight years compared to the horrible reality of being caught in a passionate embrace by an irate United States senator who thought she was a mistake without ever having met her.
Chase pulled his old-fashioned wire-rims from his face and fished in his pocket for a handkerchief. When he found one, he began to clean his glasses. “I thought we talked about this cattle drive business, son.”
“We didn’t agree.”
“The hell we didn’t! Playing cowboy does not make you look like a responsible choice for the state assembly!” shouted the white-haired senator as the livestock truck rolled up. Chase threw his hands in the air, leaned against his pickup, and waited, obviously mad as hell.
Zach ignored his theatrics and turned his attention to loading sheep. An endless stream of curses had begun rushing through his brain the moment he realized that this situation summed up everything Niki hated about his life and her past. He’d have to make her understand that Chase overreacted to everything. Surely she could see that much. Zach banged the truck’s gate, pulling Niki aside as the vehicle lurched forward.
The truck rattled away, leaving the three of them glaring at each other—Chase at Zach and Niki; Niki at Zach and the ground; Zach at Chase.
“If you’re done playing rancher, maybe we could talk a little turkey.” Chase flicked his gaze pointedly at Niki, whose hand was once again firmly clasped in Zach’s.
“Niki, Chase. Chase, Niki.” The introductions were over as far as Zach was concerned.
The senator inclined his head. “Nice to meet you, Miss—” He paused and waited for her to supply a last name. “Miss Devlin, I need to talk to my godson. Alone.”
“She stays.”
Beyond caring what kind of impression she made, Niki jerked her hand from Zach’s. “The lady can speak for herself.”
Chase hooted with laughter and shoved away from the pickup to say approvingly, “Good. A blunt woman. Never could abide weepy, shy women. If you’ve got some common sense, young lady, we may salvage this yet.”
“Chase!” Zach exploded, pacing a few steps to regain control of his anger. “Niki, ignore him. Chase, even for you this is too much. What’s your point?”
“You have any idea what the press would do with this little trail-drive romance? Politics is not a forgiving career. You make the wrong choice, jump the wrong way, and the press will serve you your butt for dinner.”
“I am the press,” Niki said, anger beginning to sear a hole in the pit of her stomach. The I-told-you-so voice in the back of her head was tap dancing all over her confidence, but she squared up to Senator Anderson and said, “I write a syndicated column. Maybe you’ve read it. ‘Heartbeat.’ ”
Chase blanched. “Columnist? Goodgodalmighty, Zach!” he roared. “You’re sleeping with the enemy!”
“I don’t believe this!” Zach uttered in disbelief, reaching for Niki, who walked away from his touch.
For Niki, being caught between Zach and the senator was akin to watching a horror movie that terrified her, but not being able to take her eyes off the screen.
“It doesn’t matter who’s sleeping with whom,” Chase said in a calmer tone, coming to stand close to Zach. “If the press finds out there was a woman on this drive, they’re going to want to know who she was. They’re going to ask a lot of questions about the woman who caught the eye of Wyoming’s rising young star. Zach, you can do some good for Wyoming. Everybody agrees on that, but you’re either in or you’re out. No half measures.”
“I’m not in or out. Yet. I told the committee I’d think about it.” Zach whirled toward Niki. “Don’t get on that horse.”
“Forget the girl, Zach,” the senator said, waving a hand as if to make her vanish; “Get your mind back on what you need to do. Good God, Burt Harper got me out of bed to tell me you wouldn’t give him an answer. A month is too damn long a time to mull over a golden career opportunity like this one. The Weston name carries some weight around here, but the party’s got to move and move now. Then I come out here and find you with a woman!”
The two men stood toe to toe, eye to eye. Finally Zach said, “I’ll handle the committee and my life as I see fit, Chase.”
Nonplussed, the senator put his hands in his front pockets and pulled his lips together in thought. Wide-open laughter rang out in the pasture as Chase clapped Zach on the back. “Reminds me of the old days. Never could tell your grandfather what to do either. Okay, son. You play this poker hand your way, but the committee will call your bluff if you take too long making up your mind. You listen to me now, Zach.”
Still chuckling, the senator nodded at Niki and climbed in his truck. “Good times ahead, boy. Good times.”
An awkward silence fell between Niki and Zach as the sound of the senator’s engine died away. She still stood at the fence with Cay’s reins in her hands. Even if she had gotten on the horse earlier, she wouldn’t have known where to go. All she’d wanted to do was get away, away from the shouting, away from the reminders that Wyoming and Niki Devlin didn’t mix. Away from the knowledge that a very powerful man thought Zach Weston belonged in a fishbowl, and the knowledge that she would never be comfortable living in a glass house. She could see the headlines now—TOWN TROLLOP TRYSTS WITH WYOMING’S RISING STAR.
“I want you to understand about Chase. He’s a good soul with a short fuse,” Zach explained, his words falling into the quiet like bricks into mud. He wanted to grab Niki and shake her, anything to break down the wall she’d ducked behind when Chase opened his mouth. Trying again, he said
, “He was my grandfather’s closest friend. We disagree from time to time.”
“I noticed,” Niki said. She took a deep breath and made a decision. “Look, I don’t want to talk about this, Zach. Your life is your own. I don’t need or want explanations.”
“And I’m supposed to believe that?” he asked as he strode over to his horse and jerked the reins free of the fence.
“No,” Niki corrected quietly. “You’re supposed to accept that.”
“Easier said than done.” Zach mounted and turned his horse toward the east. Right now the scene was too fresh, too upsetting for Niki to deal with. He could understand that, but later they were going to talk. If he had to wrestle her to the ground and sit on top of her, they were going to talk. “Let’s get back before they send a search party.”
Brass trotted beside them, oblivious to the undercurrents.
When Zach and Niki rejoined the herd, everyone was too busy to notice the strain between them. Sleepy Creek loomed as the last big hurdle of the trail drive, and the drovers were more interested in reaching the creek before the late afternoon sun sank any farther. Sleepy Creek was wide and still and dangerous. The setting sun struck the water at precisely the right angle to throw off sharp glints of light from its surface. If the cows didn’t like the way the water looked, they simply wouldn’t cross. Or the glittering light might spook the herd, and a stampede was unthinkable this close to trail’s end.
They pushed the cows up the trail toward the creek, arriving later than they wanted but well before sunset. Once the cows had all crossed safely, Niki stopped for a while, contemplating the languid motion of the clear water upstream from where the cows had stumbled through, kicking up mud. As she let nature’s hushed tranquility soothe her jagged nerves, she thought of the washcloth and basin she’d used every night to clean up. She thought of the tension that tied her back and neck in knots, and she thought of submerging herself in the clear creek water.