Home on the Range

by Susan Fox

  He couldn’t do it twice: make love to her, then abandon her.

  She knew it, too, he realized, and was protecting herself. When she’d said she wanted them to be “just friends,” it wasn’t only because of Cynthia. Jess knew that anything more would lead to pain—and perhaps another ten long years of loneliness. If they were friends, at least they could stay in touch.

  Were they naive to think they could make a friendship work? But what was the alternative? Saying good-bye was unthinkable.

  When the group took a break, spreading out to pick wild strawberries, Evan found it easier to avoid Jess than to deal with his complicated feelings. He wandered over to Madisun. “Things okay at home?” he asked quietly.

  She shrugged. “Yes and no.” Side by side, they moved farther away from the group.

  “He never came home last night,” she told him. “But he will eventually. I’ll handle it.” She touched his arm. “Thanks for the pep talk yesterday. It helps, knowing you had a rough home life and made it out.”

  “You will, too.” An idea had been percolating in the back of his head. He’d thought about the Gimme a Break Foundation, but there’d be too much red tape, especially considering she was a Canadian. Besides, he wanted this offer to be personal.

  “I have a proposition for you,” Evan said. Then, quickly, “A business proposition.”

  Madisun tilted her head.

  “I’ll loan you the money to go to university.”

  “What? You can’t do that!” Her young forehead screwed up in a frown.

  “I can, and I want to. I’ll give you funds for tuition, books, living expenses.”

  She was shaking her head bemusedly.

  He went on. “I know you’ll need to send money home for the kids, but I don’t want you waitressing. You can work for me, when it fits your school schedule. And I’ll expect you to e-mail me once a week with a progress report about what you’re learning, and what you’re thinking in terms of the future.”

  This time her head shake was vigorous. “That’s no deal. There’s nothing in it for you.”

  “I’m an investment counselor. I’m gambling that one day Madisun Joe is going to be a successful businesswoman and she’ll be involved in an enterprise that’s a good investment.”

  She gazed at him as if he were out of his mind. “I can’t let you do this. I was just venting when I said what I did yesterday, about never getting out. I will make it. On my own.”

  “I have no doubt. But it could take another year. That’s wasted time, for you and for me. I want you in university this fall.” He paused. “Unless, of course, you don’t want that.”

  Her face lit up. “Of course I want it!” Tears spilled over, and she flung herself into Evan’s arms.

  He hugged her briefly, then eased away. “Hey, we’ll get people gossiping.”

  She swiped at the tears. “I can’t believe it. But, Evan, my dad’ll never let me.”

  “I’ll talk to your parents. We’ll work it out.”

  “Madisun?” It was Jess calling.

  The girl scrubbed away the last of the moisture on her cheeks. “Time to get back on the trail. Oh, Evan, I’m so excited!”

  “Figure out a time for me to meet with your parents. In the meantime, best keep this a secret.”

  After lunch, Jess and Madisun prepared for another session on communication and horse care. When the girl dropped the box of grooming supplies for the second time, Jess said, “What’s up with you today?”

  Madisun stared at her, and then a smile lit her face. “Oh, TJ, I’m just so happy, I can’t keep it a secret.”

  This was a turnabout from yesterday. Jess smiled back. “What’s happened, Madisun?”

  “I’m sure Evan wouldn’t mind if I told you.”

  “Evan?”

  “He’s going to finance me to go to university! This year!”

  “Oh, my gosh.” Stunned, Jess let it sink in. “That’s incredible.”

  “Isn’t he the best?”

  Oh, yeah. “He really is.” It was the girl’s big break, and she deserved it. Jess hugged her. “I’m going to miss you so much, but I’m so happy for you.” And then a thought struck her. “Have your parents agreed?”

  Madisun’s face clouded a little. “Not yet, but they just have to. Evan’s going to talk to them. Mom will want me to do this; she doesn’t want me getting caught up in the same cycle she did. Dad . . . Well, I have to believe Evan can persuade him.”

  Jess hoped so, too. But maybe she could do more than hope.

  She went through the communication session, getting Madisun to assist, and then they set the guests to work grooming their horses.

  When the horses had been turned out, the guests headed up the hill. Evan lingered, as usual, and returned Madisun’s wave as she hurried to her truck. No doubt she was eager to get home and set up a meeting with her parents.

  “Guess you have to rush back to the ranch and do chores before the hayride tonight,” he said to Jess.

  “Yeah.” She studied him, tanned and strong and handsome in his shirt and jeans. The urge to hug him was a physical ache. She wanted to invite him home for dinner; she wanted to make love with him and make him a part of her life. She took a slight step backward. “Madisun told me about your offer. That’s just wonderful, Ev.”

  He shrugged awkwardly. “She’s a good kid. She deserves her chance. Not all of us can get scholarships to Cornell.”

  “You could have an uphill battle with her father.”

  “He hits her.” His voice was icy.

  A cold shiver rippled through her, and she hugged her arms across her chest. “I didn’t know or I’d have done something. She doesn’t talk much about her family.”

  “Battered kids don’t.”

  Their gazes met. Oh, Evan, I wish I could fix every bad thing that ever happened to you. She cleared her throat. “It might help if I come with you. The Joes know me, and you’re a complete stranger. I could reassure them you’re trustworthy, and—”

  “Not some kind of sicko like him?”

  She studied his clenched jaw. “If you hit Mr. Joe, it won’t help Madisun.”

  He swallowed hard. “You may have to remind me.”

  Jess had no problem imagining Evan laying into Madisun’s father with his fists. The thought should have disgusted her, but instead it made her heart race. Evan would never be a brawler, but he’d fight to protect someone he cared about. “You’re a fine man, Evan Kincaid.”

  He shook his head impatiently. “I’m happy to help her. What was she doing telling you, anyhow? She’s supposed to keep quiet about it.”

  He was embarrassed by praise. This, too, was endearing. Why in holy blue blazes did every dang thing about the man have to be so appealing?

  “It’s hard to keep secrets when you’re close friends,” she muttered, thinking guiltily about the huge secret she’d been keeping from Evan.

  As Jess played her role at the evening hayride, watching Evan out of the corner of her eye and catching him watching her, she couldn’t help but remember their kiss a week ago. So much had happened since then, but they hadn’t kissed again.

  Of course she didn’t want to kiss Evan. Well, her brain didn’t, but every other part of her—her heart, her soul, and her sexual being—wanted him very much.

  She spent the evening trying to pretend he was just another guest, but even when she was talking to someone else, or in the middle of dancing a sprightly jig with Jimmy B, she was 100 percent conscious of Evan.

  It was almost a relief when Hank and Gavin struck up a slow number and Evan tugged her into his arms. She wasn’t sure she could have gone another moment without touching him. In fact, it was all she could do to keep from plastering her body up against him.

  “I haven’t told you about Cynthia,” he murmured.

  “Cynthia?” He was going to ruin this one dance together by talking about his girlfriend?

  “We broke up.”

  Chapter Thirteen
/>   Jess stumbled and gaped up at him, ashamed and terrified at the way her heart leaped. “What happened?”

  “We had a civilized chat. She called me a square peg in a round hole.”

  “She dumped you?”

  He wrinkled his face in an exaggerated grimace. “Could we avoid the word dumped?” Then he smiled. “Actually, I started it, then she finished it. We don’t belong together and we both figured it out at the same time.”

  “You’re okay then?” He was sounding, and acting, remarkably calm. If she’d just broken up with her fiancé, she’d be a mess.

  “Yes. And I think Cynthia is, too.”

  “Well . . . that’s great. Better to find out before you got married.” And where does that leave us? Jess wondered. Then she answered her own question: On opposite sides of the country.

  “I think Cynthia and I may end up as friends. I value her a great deal.”

  Value her? “I thought she was your perfect woman. If she isn’t, then what are you looking for?”

  He frowned slightly. “I . . . haven’t gotten that far.”

  She tilted her head back. “Try it. Now that you’re all grown up, what’s your idea of the perfect woman?”

  It was his turn to stumble. When he’d regained the rhythm, he said, “Well, obviously, someone with brains and ambition, someone who loves New York as much as I do.”

  “Sounds like Cynthia.” Did he hear the edge in her voice?

  “Uh . . . maybe I’d like more, uh, spark. Playfulness, fun. The last week has taught me that life doesn’t have to be serious all the time.”

  “Good.” He still hadn’t said anything about love. It seemed Evan still wanted to keep his feelings locked up.

  “And you, Jess,” he said, “what’s your idea of the perfect man? You’re young, beautiful, vibrant. L-loving.” His voice tripped over the last word. “You’re not going to stay single forever.”

  “I don’t fall in love easily,” she said grimly.

  “And if you did, it’d be with a man who was into all that home on the range stuff. Someone who’d be part of your life here.”

  She nodded. “It’s a good life. Rob, my parents, Dave, family and friends.”

  “Horses,” he said softly. The corners of his lips curved up a little, but his eyes were sad.

  Oh yes, Evan had feelings for her, too. It wasn’t just physical between them. If either one of them were a different person, they might have had a future. She forced herself to return his smile, and confirmed, “Horses.” Not just the animals themselves, but the country, the whole lifestyle she’d grown up with; she couldn’t imagine surviving anywhere else. And Evan, though he’d learned to enjoy his time here, clearly felt the same essential bond to New York City.

  Suddenly, Jess was so tired her feet felt leaden. She’d been through an emotional wringer more than once this week. She stopped moving. “Ev, I’m beat.” She glanced at her watch. “Time to wind things up.”

  Evan noticed how Jess waited for him to find a place in the hay wagon, then hoisted herself up on the opposite side. He told himself it was just as well. He was feeling as confused as he’d been a week ago.

  The strangest thing had happened. When Jess had asked him to describe his perfect woman, an image had flashed into his mind. Jess, pulling Knight up after a fast ride. Turning to him as he rode beside her on Rusty, her eyes sparkling, her face alight with the same joy he was feeling. It was absurd. Yes, he was attracted to her, but she had no place in his world except on the fringes.

  And deep in the center of his heart.

  The Thursday ride wasn’t planned to start until late in the morning because it involved another picnic lunch. Though he could have slept in, Evan woke early, restless. His time at the Crazy Horse was nearing an end. He felt good about a lot of things, yet had a sense of unfinished business.

  He joined the others for breakfast, but only picked at his food and couldn’t concentrate on the conversation. He’d more or less resolved things with Jess, but what about Brooke? If he returned to New York without seeing his mother, would he always wonder what they might have said to each other?

  Damn. He’d opened his heart to his mother so many times as a boy, and each time she’d stomped on it. Why should he try again? He told himself it was just curiosity. Jess said his mother had changed, and maybe he’d like to see for himself because he had one hell of a time believing it.

  Rising from the breakfast table, he sought out Will in the office. “Can you call me a cab? I’m going in to Caribou Crossing.”

  “It’ll take half an hour to get a taxi out here, and Marty’s heading in for groceries shortly. Why not go with her?”

  Marty tried to make conversation during the drive, but Evan wasn’t feeling chatty and she gave up. “Where shall I drop you?” she asked as they reached the outskirts of town, which had a few new gas stations and fast food outlets since he’d last been here.

  “Anywhere on the main street.” He hoped the heart of Caribou Crossing would still be small enough that all the shops would be in walking distance of each other.

  He was right, he saw as she stopped at a red light and he glanced around. Small, but more picturesque than he remembered.

  Marty let him off in front of the drugstore, and he strolled the couple of blocks to where the beauty salon had been located. Several heritage buildings, including Dave Cousins’s Wild Rose Inn and The Gold Nugget Saloon, where his parents used to drink, had been restored since his time. Flowers and fresh paint made the town look charming.

  But he was stalling, assessing Caribou Crossing rather than focusing on the reason he’d come.

  Standing across the street from Beauty Is You, Evan took several deep breaths and reminded himself he wasn’t a man to back down from a challenge. His heart hammering in his chest, he strode across the street and opened the door. A bell jangled and several faces looked up.

  His eyes went immediately to one. God, but she looked young. Beautiful. His gaze took in glossy blond hair in shoulder-length waves, a lightly tanned face and arms, a slender body wrapped in a cream-colored, multi-pocketed smock with Beauty Is You written on it.

  Had he ever seen her look so good?

  Brooke’s hand went to her throat. “Evan?” Her voice was shaky, so soft he could barely hear it. She came toward him, moving in the uncertain manner of a blind person in an unfamiliar place.

  “It’s me,” he said.

  She gave a choky gasp and burst into tears.

  Quickly another woman, also clad in a Beauty Is You smock, with curly brown hair highlighted with gold, dashed over. “What’s going on?” She put a protective arm around Brooke.

  “I’m her son. We haven’t seen each other for a while.”

  “Oh my heavens! You’re Evan!” She released his mother and put out her hand. “I’m Kate Patterson. I’ve heard all about you.”

  Distractedly, he shook her hand. Then he said to Brooke, “Are you all right?”

  With her fingertips she whisked at the tears on her cheeks. “I can’t believe it.”

  “When you get a break, can I take you for coffee?”

  “Go now,” Kate urged. “I’ll finish Madge’s blow-dry.”

  “Are you sure?” Brooke asked, but she was already pulling off her smock, her hands shaking, tousling her hair in the process. The other woman—Jess’s aunt, he realized—reached out to smooth it. Under the smock, Brooke wore a blue sleeveless blouse and khaki skirt.

  It felt more like a dream than real life—or like he was observing, not acting—as Evan and his mother walked side by side, untouching and unspeaking, to a coffee shop a couple of doors down the street. He endured the curious gazes of several people along the way, reminders that he was in a small community where all the locals knew each other, not big, anonymous NYC.

  He and Brooke took a seat in a back corner and ordered coffee from a middle-aged man who greeted his mother by name and eyed him sharply through wire-rimmed glasses. When the coffee came and they were
finally alone, Brooke asked urgently, “Are you all right?”

  “All right?” How on earth could he answer that question?

  “Are you . . . sick?”

  He shouldn’t be surprised that she might assume that, after he’d stayed away for so long. “No, I’m fine.”

  She let out a long breath and the tension in her face eased. She studied him across the table as if she was drinking him in. “Let me look at you, Evan Kincaid. I can’t believe how handsome you turned out.”

  “You’re looking good yourself, Brooke.” In fact, despite a few tiny crinkles around her eyes and mouth, she seemed younger than she had ten years ago. She had chosen simple styles for her hair, make-up, and clothing, and they suited her. In the past, she’d either been completely run-down or fancied up in a too flashy way. Now she looked wholesome, almost classy.

  He had spent so much time being angry at her. Now, when he looked at her, he had trouble recognizing the woman he’d known. “You look really different.”

  She nodded. “I am.” She took a breath. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to the Crazy Horse partly on a job for a client and partly on holiday.” He paused, realizing he’d firmed his jaw. “I’ve been here a week and a half.”

  “You didn’t . . .” She dropped her head.

  “No, I didn’t call or visit. I didn’t . . .” He decided on honesty. “I didn’t want to see you, and figured you wouldn’t want to see me. Things were over between us a long time ago, Brooke.”

  Tears overflowed her eyes, but she lifted her head and met his gaze. “You have a right to hate me.”

  “I don’t know that I hate you. I was mad, hurt. It was you who hated me.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Hated you? How could you think that?”

  She certainly had a selective memory. Grimly, he prodded it. “You said I ruined your life.”