by Savanna Fox
She forced her head upright and did the same. The paints were all smeared, blending together. “We created colors that didn’t exist before.”
He chuckled. “Finger painting on steroids.”
“No, on hallucinogenic drugs. It was mind-blowing.”
They laughed together, then he put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her up against him. She snuggled a painted cheek against his painted chest.
* * *
Smiling at Kim’s comment, Ty realized something. “You speak English like a native.” Then, realizing his comment might sound condescending or even racist, he said, “Sorry, did that come out wrong?”
Her soft hair brushed him as she shook her head. “No, I know what you mean. Lots of people from Asia who came here as adults and are totally bilingual still have a bit of an accent, slightly different speech patterns. They don’t get the colloquialisms. But I’m the next best thing to a native speaker.”
Intrigued, he shifted so their heads were on separate pillows, facing each other. He looped his arm over her slim waist. “How d’you mean?”
“I lived here for four years as a little kid. Kindergarten through third grade.”
“Oh, yeah? How did that happen?”
“My parents had me late in life. By then they’d built CPM. They not only managed property, they’d bought some. Apartment buildings in Hong Kong. Anyhow, in 1986, there was a big world’s fair in Vancouver. Expo 86.”
She sounded so businesslike, yet looked like a tropical bird. The woman was so damned fascinating. “I’ve heard of it.”
“The world discovered Vancouver. Asian businesses opened branches there, Asian kids were sent to English-language schools, Asian restaurants sprang up. My parents wanted to check out the investment opportunities. In the early nineties, we all came for a visit. Now, my parents never do anything impulsively—”
Ty laughed. “Yeah, I can relate to that.” He stroked the curve of her hip, trying to be gentle, aware of his rough, callused skin against her smooth flesh.
She grinned. “Investment is different than risk, right? Anyhow, they wanted to invest in property in Vancouver, but only after thorough on-site research. Dad would run the business in Hong Kong and Mom, whose English was better, would stay here. Aside from flying back and forth a few times a year, Mom and I lived in Vancouver.”
Her dark eyes softened with memories. “It was so much fun. I already spoke English, but those four years as a kid made me fluent. After that, I was back often, with my parents when they came here on business. I stayed friends with some kids from those early school days and we e-mailed all the time. Add in American TV, books, Facebook . . .” She shrugged.
“You’re at home in two worlds, Hong Kong and Vancouver. That’s pretty impressive.” Compared to him, a country boy through and through.
She cocked her head. “You think I’m impressive?”
“Damn right.”
“Hmm.” Her lips curved in a self-satisfied smile. “Cool. The rodeo star thinks I’m impressive.”
Her words pumped his male ego and he gathered her in again, snuggling her against the base of his throat, one of the few places where his body was paint-free. Damn, but she felt good there.
She must have felt the same, because she sighed softly and planted a warm kiss against his chest.
At the ranch, Ty slept with the window cracked open for most of the year. There, the nights were quiet but for the sounds of nature: stirrings of wildlife, the patter of rain, occasional thunder and lightning. Here, the noise of traffic through Kim’s open window-wall was a constant hum accented by the occasional roar of a motorcycle starting up or the shrill whine of a siren. She didn’t seem to notice.
Despite the noise—and even after what was, hands down, the craziest sexual experience of his life—it was peaceful. He stretched out contentedly with his arm around her as she curled into him, warm and naked, her head on his chest.
It would be easy to drift into sleep, but then he’d have to get up at a ridiculous hour. He squeezed her shoulder. “I should get going.”
She stirred. “You don’t have to.”
It was nice, her inviting him to stay. Sex was one thing, but trusting a guy enough to let him sleep over was another. Wanting to sleep over was another too. So he let her know. “Thanks. I’d like to stay, but I have to be at the ranch doing chores by five.”
She shuddered. “I’m a morning person, but that’s crazy early. Especially on a Saturday.”
He gave a slow, lazy laugh. “Ranches don’t sleep on weekends. Neither do ranchers.”
“I guess not. I don’t really have a picture of your life. What do you do, Ty?”
“Business stuff, help Dad with the cattle, train horses, exercise, do my rodeo practice.”
She ran a finger across the now-dry paint on his chest. “No rodeo this weekend?”
“Nope. Used to be at rodeos two hundred days of the year, but those times are long gone. Now it’s more like a dozen. I have another in three weeks, in the interior.”
“But you still practice?”
“If you’re out of shape, it’s easy to get hurt. ’Sides, when you’ve been champ, it bruises a guy’s ego to drop too far in the standings.”
“How did you end up doing last weekend? I’m sorry, I never asked.”
“Came second in bareback bronc and fourth in tie-down roping. Took home a nice chunk of change.”
“Wonderful. Congratulations.” Now she wished she’d gone back on Sunday. She lifted her head and peeled her body away from his. Eyeing him, she giggled. “Better take a shower. You don’t want to put your clothes on over”—she gestured—“that.”
He pushed himself up to a sitting position and studied the abstract swirls and smears of color, duller now that the paint had dried, then laughed.
She sat up, chuckling too, and he said, “Oh man, look at you. Lord, I wish I had a camera. And your hair, you gotta see your hair. It’s terrific.”
He rose, reached down a hand, and pulled her to her feet. She had a full-length mirror on one wall of the room and they studied their reflections.
Yes, they looked funny, but there was something oddly attractive about their painted bodies and her messed-up black hair. One side sported only the red streaks she’d applied intentionally; the other side, where she’d rested her head on his chest, was a crazy mix of red, yellow, and green.
She tilted her head. “I’m a parrot. I kind of like it.”
“Me too. I kind of like all of you, in fact.”
She turned away from their reflections to smile at him. “I kind of like all of you too, Ty.”
“Join me in the shower?”
“Don’t I wish, but have you seen my shower? There’s barely room for one.”
“Too bad.” His own shower and his Jacuzzi tub were sizable, with pulsing jets to ease the aches and pains caused by rodeo and hard work on the ranch. Impulsively, he said, “You should come out to Ronan Ranch. What are you doing this weekend?”
Wait a minute. What was he doing? He didn’t take women to the ranch. Not the women he dated casually. Only someone he was serious about belonged at Ronan Ranch. And Kim had already made her thoughts about ranches very clear.
So, it wasn’t a surprise when she shook her head. “Me at a ranch? I don’t think so.”
He should be relieved rather than disappointed and ticked off. He definitely shouldn’t say, “You didn’t see yourself at a rodeo either, but you had fun.” All the same, that’s what came out of his mouth. He followed it up with, “I promise I won’t tie you up and make you live there. It’s just one visit.”
She bit her pretty bottom lip, which already looked swollen from his kisses. “It would be interesting to see a ranch before I go home.”
If she came, he’d try to keep her out of his mom’s way. Betty Ronan was bound to read more into it than he and Kim intended. Or would she? He took another look at his Asian lover, her petite body smeared with paint, her hair even punkier tha
n usual. It was pretty unlikely his mom would think he saw Kim as wife material. “Come out Saturday afternoon and stay the night,” he suggested. “If you’re worried about finding the place, I could pick you up and drive you back.”
“You figure I’ll get lost in the wilds of the Fraser Valley, halfway to Hope? I’m sure I can find my way. But I thought you had all that work to do.”
“I’ll get up extra early. Besides, the ranch’ll survive if I goof off a little.” He headed for the shower. Was this a stupid idea? Kim might be bored out of her mind, hate the ranch, decide he was a country hick—which he pretty much was—and dump him flat. But it was done now. No point in second thoughts.
He washed quickly, dried off on a towel that was more the size of her body than his, and went to get dressed.
She was in bed, the top sheet tucked across her breasts. A demure pose, but the wild hair and colored streaks across her cheeks sent the opposite message.
“The shower’s yours.”
“I’m going to stay like this for the night.” Her dark eyes gleamed with humor. “I like being a dirty girl.”
He chuckled. “Dirty girl, painted woman—yeah, the look suits you. But maybe you should wash before you come out to the ranch, or you might scare the horses.”
She flung a pillow at him and he ducked.
* * *
Scare the horses, Kim mused as she headed the iCar smart car out of the city. Hopefully, they wouldn’t run for their lives when they saw her.
She refused to follow Marielle’s example and dress all cowgirl, pretending to be something she had no desire to be. But she had toned things down a little. She wore her most casual jeans—no rhinestones or embroidery. Her silk-screened tee was fairly conservative—shades of purplish blue with subtle orange and black highlights, based on the Eastern Tailed Blue butterfly. She’d debated leaving her hair unstreaked, but black hair was so boring. Ever since she’d come to Vancouver, she’d been adding whimsical color to her hair. When she moved back in with her parents, she’d have to be more conservative with her appearance, but not a moment earlier. In fact, she’d taken inspiration from last night’s unplanned color job and now sported both blue and mauve streaks. Still, they were more subtle than usual, and she’d chosen delicate violet on her nails rather than the more flashy cerulean blue that decorated her toes inside her sneakers.
As she drove under a clear blue sky, she wondered for the millionth time why Ty had invited her and why she’d accepted. They had great sex. Incredible sex. He was her sexual muse, awakening her curiosity and creativity. She could handle lots more of that, if he was interested, in the weeks before she went back to Hong Kong.
But inviting her to the ranch . . . It was like inviting her into his life.
Hmm. At dinner yesterday, she’d made it clear that a sober Kim wouldn’t leap into bed with a stranger. She’d wanted to talk, wanted them to get to know each other, and they had. Maybe today was something similar, his way of reassuring her that he was a decent, trustworthy guy as well as being a sex god.
She’d pretty much reached that conclusion herself, but she appreciated the gesture. And yes, she was curious. About the ranch, about what a horse whisperer did, about his house.
Oh-oh. A thought occurred to her. Did he live with his parents, the way she did in Hong Kong? She couldn’t have sex with him if his parents were nearby.
Kim was so engrossed in thought, automatically following the flow of traffic in the slow lane of the highway, that she almost missed her exit. Now, as she headed onto a smaller road that cut through farmland, butterflies took up residence in her stomach. Normally, she loved butterflies. These ones, not so much.
She tried to ignore them as, slowing periodically to consult the straightforward map Ty had e-mailed her, she headed toward spectacular mountains. The few white clouds clustered around the peaks were the only break in the vivid blue sky. For the first time, she really took in the scenery: flat fields planted with crops she didn’t recognize, then fencing, and now cows. Black cows. Odd; she thought of cows as brown and white. These were healthy looking, their coats glossy under the sun, the same color as her hair. They could use color streaks to liven them up.
A carved wooden sign said RONAN RANCH. The logo was the two Rs she’d seen on Ty’s truck, the first one backward with its spine resting against the second, normal R. The sign looked old, probably a memento his parents had saved from their Alberta ranch. Under it hung newer wooden slats attached to heavy chains: PUREBRED ANGUS one read, the next was HORSE TRAINING, and the third read OSTRICHES, LLAMAS, ALPACAS, ANGORA GOATS.
She stopped in front of a gate made of wooden bars, with a sign reading PLEASE CLOSE GATE AFTER YOU! The gate to Ty’s world.
She opened it, drove through, and latched it behind her. What was that saying from The Wizard of Oz? You’re not in Kansas anymore? Well, she, who was at home in Hong Kong and Vancouver, with people and buildings all around, felt like she was in Kansas, and it was a very foreign place.
With trepidation, she drove down the road. On the side she’d come from, there were more cows. The black creatures must be the purebred Angus, Ty’s dad’s ranching project.
On the other side of the road, a half-dozen horses ran over to the white-railed fence and kept pace with her car, their ears pricked forward, looking curious. She’d admired the horses she saw at the rodeo. These, free and beautiful out in nature, were so much more aesthetically pleasing than the chunky, placid cows. Not that she’d say that to Ty’s dad, much less anything about color streaks.
Not that she was likely to meet Ty’s dad, or so she hoped.
The road led toward the foothills of the mountains. The countryside rolled gently now, and there were more trees. It was so huge and empty, but for the horses. Impressive and lovely in its own way, but a little scary for someone who’d always lived surrounded by other people.
It made her think of the book club book, which she’d tucked in her bag in case she had time on her hands while Ty was working. Marty Westerbrook had described the land she rode through as vast and awe-inspiring, and so was the scenery outside the car window. The journalist had felt that the humans in the landscape were small and insignificant. Yes, from the air, Kim’s red car would look no bigger than a ladybug, and she’d be one small black spot. Marty had found the perception of vastness and insignificance comforting in an odd way.
Kim shook her head. No, it was just disconcerting.
Of course Marty could ride, and she’d been in war zones. She was brave, skilled, and versatile. Kim, on the other hand . . . Hey, wait a minute. She’d been brave enough to leave her home and parents and eagerly face a new life in Vancouver. She was skilled and versatile when it came to art, and here she was, an artist in a new world, with lots to take in and admire. This world might be foreign, but it could be a great stimulus to her creativity. Too bad she hadn’t brought sketching materials.
There were buildings coming up, on the same side of the road as the cows. Ty had said she’d see the ranch headquarters, and she took in a couple of big barns, a small building labeled OFFICE, and several other buildings, all looking neat and functional. Set farther back was an attractive two-story house, painted green with white trim, bordered with colorful flowers. A couple of trucks were parked near one of the barns, and several people dressed in jeans and cowboy hats clustered around the back of one, unloading something.
As Ty had instructed, she kept driving, still accompanied by the running horses.
On the horse side of the road, she saw a fenced ring with a couple of horses in it, and a smaller barn. Up on a rise, tucked among scattered trees, sat another attractive two-story house, this one made of unpainted logs. Newish logs. Ty’s house. Had to be. That was a relief. A porch ran the length of the front, with a handful of padded wooden chairs and a couple of little tables. Did Ty sit there at the end of the workday with a beer, and watch the horses run around as the sun set?
Everything he would see, and far past his line of sigh
t, was his. He’d bought this huge piece of land with rodeo earnings. His achievement was impressive.
Her parents owned apartment buildings in Hong Kong and Vancouver, buildings where land was scarce and tiny homes nestled side by side, stacked in rows. Their property holdings were dense; Ty’s were the opposite. She and he truly were from opposite worlds.
She felt a weird little pang, almost as if she wished things were different. But that was ridiculous, and she brushed the thought away.
As Kim pulled the smart car to a stop, Ty emerged from the barn, leading two horses. A quick rush of pleasure went through her. He was the perfect cowboy, fit, muscular, and totally at ease with his body in faded jeans, a straw cowboy hat, boots, and a shirt the same color as his jeans, its neck open and sleeves rolled up. Vivid memories of last night—of that fine body naked and slathered with paint—heated her blood.
Quickly he tied the reins to a rail, then came to meet her as she stepped out of the car. “You’re here.” He caught her up in an exuberant hug, lifting her off her feet and swinging her around. When he put her down, he said, “No problem finding the place?”
A little breathless from being swung, not to mention the flood of sensations—his outdoorsy male scent, the feel of those strong arms, the tingle that raced across her skin—she managed to say, “Not at all.”
He leaned down to kiss her and she came up on her toes to meet him. The kiss dove deep and fast, and when they finally broke apart she was entirely breathless and the tingles rippled through her body.
Fifteen
I see you washed off the paint,” Ty said, “but you didn’t get all of it.” He fingered a few strands of her hair.
“That was intentional!” she protested.
His eyes danced. “Never can tell with you, painter girl. I like it.”
“Thanks.” She gave a mischievous grin and reminded him of his joke last night. “You don’t think it will scare the horses?”