When Danger Calls (Blackthorne, Inc.)

by Terry Odell

  Didn't want to wake you. Took a cab to the airport. Will be in California tonight. Don't worry. Everything's all right. I'll call.

  Now, she glared at the phone, willing it to ring. What did "everything's all right" mean? Bob's sister? The finances? Her happiness? Should she start looking for a place to live? If she did, that would mean no Brenda. She'd have to find suitable after-school care for Molly. Or could she convince Brenda to move in with her, make some kind of arrangement like she had here?

  Stop it. Until she talked to Mom, there was no point in trying to look at everything that could go wrong. What could go right?

  She had a job—two, really, although she'd be glad when she could say good bye to the Three Elks. Will Loucas at the Photo Barn would take her work on consignment.

  When she'd spoken with Mr. Anisman about using the school's darkroom, he'd said he'd look into her teaching night school photography, too. Forget that it meant sitters for Molly. If the classes were early enough, maybe she could come along. And selling a couple of pictures would cover baby-sitting expenses with money left over.

  And where did Ryan fit into this puzzle? Never mind that merely thinking about him made her ache with longing. One look, and she was wet. Kissing him was like nothing she'd ever experienced. But that was sex, and she'd been that route.

  Despite his recent willingness to include Molly in his invitations, she wasn't convinced he actually wanted a relationship, much less a ready-made family. She wished that she hadn't accepted the riding invitation. You'd think she'd have learned not to make decisions while she was…preoccupied.

  Rubbing her cheek, still sensitive from Ryan's unshaven jaw, she went upstairs and searched for her old riding boots.

  Chapter 17

  Friday morning, Ryan gazed at the gathering clouds and turned on the news to catch a weather forecast before heading to the ranch. A thunderclap shook the windows. He sipped his coffee while he waited for the local update, able to think of little other than last night. He fought the stirring in his loins. If he was going to spend a few hours on horseback, that was the last thing he needed.

  Scattered showers, possible thunderstorms, maybe in the morning, maybe in the afternoon. Or maybe the storm would miss this area entirely. He decided that the local weatherman would be hard-pressed to predict yesterday's weather and clicked off the set.

  When Ryan arrived at the ranch, Pop sat on the front porch swing, a familiar stuffed dog on his lap and Molly beside him, her head bowed over a book. Her strawberry-blonde hair was gathered in a ponytail tied with a bright green ribbon. Wolf lay at their feet, inches out of swing range. Ryan slammed the truck door shut, and Molly looked up.

  He hadn't taken two strides before she'd wriggled off the swing and run down the porch steps, throwing herself at him.

  "Hi, Mr. Man. Mommy said I'm brave, and I'm going to go riding."

  Without thinking, he scooped her up and gazed into her cobalt blue eyes. "That's right. If it doesn't rain." He tweaked her nose.

  She kissed his cheek and giggled. An unfamiliar warmth spread through him.

  "His name is Mr. Harper, Molly."

  He looked up at the sound of Frankie's voice. She stepped onto the porch carrying a mug of coffee. Her hair was styled to match Molly's, down to the ribbon. Tucked into her jeans, she wore a ribbed green turtleneck, snug fitting enough so that he wondered if she was cold or glad to see him.

  Molly looked at him, then frowned and looked at Pop. "But you said the other man was Mr. Harper."

  "Tell you what, Molly. You can call me Ryan."

  She cocked her head and looked thoughtful for a moment. "Okay, Mr. Ryan. When can we go riding? Can Mr. Snuggles come, too? Mommy said I won't have a big horse." Her chin quivered for a moment. "I'm going to be brave."

  Her voice faltered. He squeezed her and kissed her cheek. Her skin was silken, and she smelled like soap and chocolate. A closer look revealed the remnants of a chocolate milk above her upper lip. He had to swallow before he could speak.

  "You most certainly will. But if you don't feel brave, tell me, and you can ride on my horse with me."

  "Really?"

  He saw trust replace her uncertainty, and blinked back images of Carmelita.

  "Right in front of me, so I can hold you like this." He turned her around and held her around her waist, tickling her ribs. Her giggles erased Carmelita's face, and he gave Molly one quick squeeze.

  The phone rang, and he set her down, starting to jog for the house.

  "Harper Trail Rides," said Pop.

  Of course. He had the cordless on the porch. Ryan watched him nodding to the other side of the conversation, as if the caller could see him. Pop and telephones had never been buddies. Mom had always handled the business end of things. After a few unintelligible grunts, a couple of head shakes, he heard the word, "deposit." Another silence, then, "I understand. Thank you. Maybe another time."

  He gave his father a questioning look.

  Pop set the phone beside him. "It's thundering at the hotel where today's riders are staying, and they'd rather not ride if it might rain. They've cancelled." He turned to Frankie. "Guess you and Molly get a private tour." He got up from the swing. When it moved, he swayed, and Ryan resisted the urge to help him find his center of gravity.

  "I've got errands in town." Pop said. "If I go now, maybe I'll beat the rain. Be back before two, I reckon."

  "You sure you're okay to drive?" Ryan asked.

  "Truck ain't like sitting a horse. I'm fine."

  Frankie glanced at Ryan, a hesitant look on her face. "If you've got other things you should be doing, we'll understand. We don't expect you to spend your morning entertaining us."

  Only her sedate tone told him how upset she was. Not being able to talk to her mother must be taxing even Frankie's optimistic attitude. The thought of her leaving sent his mood to match the darkening clouds above.

  He shook it off and smiled. "No, my morning was set aside for the ride. But we can cut it short, or do whatever you like." He waited. Molly looked up from one adult to the next, obviously waiting for the grownups to make up their minds.

  Frankie spoke first. "I'm happy to do what you decide. I know it doesn't sound very appropriate, but I would like to be in cell phone range. Mom still hasn't called me. As long as I'm home by three. I have an appointment at the bank."

  "Shouldn't be a problem. We can stay close." He saw the concern in her eyes. "Did you check your mom's computer for BLD?"

  "I did what you said, but there was no BLD on her payee list. That's when I called the bank. On the phone, they didn't sound too willing to give information to anyone but the account holder."

  "Broken Bow's a small town. I'm sure they'll understand that you're acting in her best interest." He hoped so. The on-line bill pay feature was handy, but it also meant anyone with access to the account could log on, create a payee, get the bank to send the money. And easy to delete the payee's information from the list.

  They walked to the barn, Molly falling behind until Frankie took her hand. When they reached the structure, Ryan inhaled the familiar, comforting scents. Horses, feed, manure. For the moment, all his other worries left. He turned to see Molly hiding behind Frankie.

  "Come on, Peanut," Frankie said. "We talked about this, remember. You wanted to ride. You even wanted a pony."

  "Over here," Ryan said. "This is Sparky. See. He's not so big." He patted the mule between the ears.

  Molly shook her head. "My braves are all gone." She wasn't crying—yet.

  Ryan crouched to her level. "Maybe if you watch your mom, some of your braves will come back. But you don't have to ride if you don't want to." He looked up at Frankie. "We can take a few turns around the corral and see if she changes her mind. I'm not in favor of forcing kids. They usually know when they're ready."

  Frankie's eyes telegraphed her pleasure, but he was surprised to find it was the way Molly's had lost some of their wariness that warmed him.

  Once Molly had
agreed to watch, Ryan saddled Corky, and glanced down the row of stalls. "I think Hot Rod could use a little exercise." He wandered to a brown and white paint. The horse snorted and shook his head.

  "Um…it's been years since I've been on a horse. I kind of expected a Buttercup, or a Dobbin, or something milder than a Hot Rod."

  Ryan laughed, and it felt good. "Don't let the name fool you. He's as docile as they come. Knows the trails better than I do."

  She didn't look convinced, but he saw her glance at Molly and paste on a confident grin. "Okay, then. But let's definitely start in the corral."

  *****

  An hour later, Frankie watched Ryan put away saddles and bridles, pitch hay, and curry the horses, all the while explaining everything to Molly, who was now enchanted and chock full of braves. After ten minutes of watching from outside the corral, Molly had allowed Ryan to settle her in front of him on Corky, and the transformation had begun. She'd gone from a death grip on the saddle horn to leaning forward to pat Corky's black mane. Before long, she was willing to ride solo, with Ryan walking alongside, one hand on Corky's bridle, the other on Molly's back. The heart-in-her-throat at seeing her little girl atop such a mass of power disappeared when she saw the way Molly smiled at Ryan—and the way he smiled back. Not once had he given her that, look at me being nice to your kid look she'd seen too often. As a matter of fact, he'd hardly paid her any attention at all since they started riding. It had all been focused on Molly. Now the lump was in her throat, not her heart.

  She heard restless stirring in the stalls, and the occasional whinny. Seconds later, a thunderclap rattled the wooden structure.

  "We'd better get back," Ryan said. He stepped out of the tack room wiping his hands on his jeans. "That sounded close."

  They hadn't gone ten feet before huge raindrops pelted them. Ryan tucked Molly under one arm and reached for Frankie's hand with his other. The three of them raced back to the house, laughing and thoroughly drenched by the time they hit the porch.

  "I must look like a drowned rat," she said.

  "A very attractive drowned rat," Ryan answered. He set Molly down and came close, tucking an escaped strand of hair behind her ear. "I guess I'd better see about getting you dry." His breath was warm on her face, and she took his hands. Wet and calloused, they were surprisingly gentle.

  She leaned forward and kissed him, a soft, quick brush of lips. "Thank you."

  "For what?" He looked genuinely confused, and her heart melted a little more.

  "For…for helping Molly find her braves. That was very nice."

  "I enjoyed it. She's a great kid."

  "I know. And I'm glad you see it, too."

  Molly sneezed, and Frankie pulled away. "All right, Peanut, time to dry off." She looked at Ryan who hadn't budged. His gaze caught hers, and she had to force herself to break it. "We seem to be making a habit of this, don't we? Can we impose on you for some dry clothes? Again?"

  He leaned closer. "What if I said there wasn't a dry piece of clothing in the house?"

  She felt her face burn, but she kept her tone light. "I guess I'd have to sit around in these wet ones and catch pneumonia."

  "Wait here. I'll see what I can find." He turned to go, but his hand slid down her arm, to her hand, to her fingertips, and even then, seemed to linger before he broke contact and jogged up the stairs.

  She watched him until he disappeared around the landing. She wondered what he'd think if he knew she'd had her eyes on his backside for most of the ride.

  *****

  Frankie and Ryan sat on the couch in the den, sipping coffee. Engulfed by one of Pop's red wool shirts, and fortified with hot chocolate and some of Rosa's oatmeal cookies, Molly sprawled on the floor in front of the television watching Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

  "As soon as the rain lets up and the dryer is done, we'll have to be going," Frankie said to Ryan. "Thanks for the interim wardrobe."

  "Sorry about that. But Pop's robe never looked better."

  She pulled the soft, plaid flannel a little tighter, all too aware of the absence of anything but one of Angus' t-shirts underneath. Ryan slipped his arm around her shoulder, relaxing and exciting her at the same time. She allowed herself a moment to enjoy the sensation before fishing her cell phone out of the robe's pocket. Although it was set to both ring and vibrate, she couldn't help checking for a magical missed call. She'd left a message for Brenda to call her as soon as she returned. If she didn't hear from her soon, she'd have to start lining up sitters.

  All of a sudden she needed to be home where she could put things in order. She got up and checked the dryer, as if attending to the simple task would put her back in control. Sensing Ryan behind her, she turned before he could lean against her.

  "What's wrong?" he said.

  "Nothing. I've got the bank appointment, and Brenda's late getting back—probably got caught in traffic because of the storm. I need to line up sitters for Molly. We had a great time, but there's so much to do. My pictures should be ready, and I have to shop for dinner before I go to work tonight, and—"

  His lips were on hers, stopping her mid-sentence. A coffee flavored kiss, deep and demanding, shut down everything except the need for more. He'd changed his clothes, but the scent of outdoors and horses clung to him. She reached behind him, twisting her fingers through his hair. Blood pounded in her ears, her heart drummed against her ribs. She heard bells. Reluctantly, she broke the kiss and looked him in the eyes. "Dryer's done."

  "It's still raining," he said.

  "Not very hard."

  "I'll follow you home. And I'll stay with Molly while you run your errands. If Brenda doesn't get back, I'll stay while you go to work."

  "That's not necessary. I'll arrange something."

  "I'm offering because I want to. I've had a good time today. I'd like it to last a little longer."

  She ran down a list of possible last minute sitters and knew it would be a challenge, given it was the final weekend of spring break. She told herself that was the reason she'd agree to his offer.

  Still, he could have had the decency to look surprised when she accepted.

  Chapter 18

  At the sound of a car in Frankie's driveway, Ryan snapped alert. Not that he hadn't been listening for the last twenty minutes. He lit the candles he'd bought on the way over, and poured wine into one of the two glasses he'd set out on the coffee table in the den. Frankie had said she wasn't much of a drinker, not that she didn't drink.

  He heard her footsteps. She must still be wearing her heels, which meant she was in her uniform. Resigned to the fact that merely thinking of her sent his blood south, he didn't fight the sensation.

  A light went on in the living room, and her footfalls grew softer—toward the kitchen, he guessed. Then closer. "Ryan?" Her voice was low. Curious, but with a sultry edge to it.

  She came through the doorway, then froze. "Oh, my."

  Well, it wasn't like he expected her to rush across the room into his arms. Imagined it, maybe. A little wishful thinking. "I thought you might like to unwind a little," he said.

  "I don't know what to say. This is…not what I expected." Now, she sounded nervous.

  He stayed back, afraid if he moved closer, she'd bolt. Trying for an easygoing grin, he said, "And what did you expect?"

  "I don't know, exactly. Dirty dishes, toys on the floor. Molly refusing to go to bed. Chaos, maybe? Everything looks so…orderly."

  He couldn't help but laugh. To be honest, he'd been afraid of the same. "I'll confess that Molly stayed up half an hour later than your instructions said, but otherwise we stuck to the rules." All four pages of them. "She's sound asleep. I checked a few minutes ago."

  Balancing on one foot, then the other, she removed her shoes. "Did you hear from Mom?"

  He braced himself for the disappointment he knew he'd see when he told her no. "Sorry. Did the bank give you any information?"

  "The address they sent the checks to. A post office box in Arizona."<
br />
  The unspoken plea in her eyes threatened to overwhelm him. Why was it so hard for her to ask for help? "Would you like me to check it out?"

  Her attempts at refusal were half-hearted, and he promised to do what he could, more to see the light return to her eyes than anything else. He could spare a little time tomorrow, and it shouldn't be too tough to get some basic information for her. Hell, he could probably show her enough about using search engines and public databases, but found that he didn't want to relinquish the chance to work with her.

  "Thank you. Did Brenda call? Her car's not here."

  "She left a message on the machine. Apologized for the delay and said she'd be back by Sunday."

  Frankie raised her eyebrows. "Why did she leave a message? You should have picked up."

  "Sorry. She called while we were gone."

  "Gone?" She stepped toward him. "Where did you go? Molly had enough excitement for one day."

  "Relax. We went to Dixie's Café for dinner, that's all. She wanted pizza, but we agreed that it was better to eat a healthy meal. She had chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans, which she finished to the last bean, I might add."

  "I'm impressed. She usually pitches a fit unless we go to Slappy's."

  He tried to look nonchalant. "Maybe I did promise her ice cream if she ate everything."

  Frankie's expression said she knew that wasn't all.

  "Okay, and I told her we could go riding again." He winced, waiting for Frankie to give him grief for making a promise he had no right to.

  "That might not have been too smart," was all she said.

  "I know. But I hope you'll both come again. And I'm still getting the hang of managing a five-year-old."