“Never lose touch, my dear,” Annette said. “For there’s nothing like a pink mountain sunset, or the sight of an elk with her young, to remind you what’s truly important.”
“And that is?” Lyndie prompted, clinging to any subject that would free her mind from the fiery press of the muscular male thigh against hers.
“God. The spirit. Connection. All that and more,” her husband added.
Lyndie mulled over the words. They were poetic to her hungry soul, but the wounded part of her knew the words and their substance were out of reach.
Releasing a sad little smile she said, “Unfortunately, there are no spreadsheets and inventory in those mountains, and that’s what’s got a choke-hold on me. I’m afraid I’ll be flying home tomorrow. I’ve had a business emergency.”
“Oh, no!” Annette cooed.
Lyndie turned to Bruce. “Which reminds me. I’ll need a cab to go to Hazel’s tonight. What’s the name of the taxi company around here?”
“I’ll take you,” he said.
She held up her hand. “No, no. I couldn’t impose—”
“You’re a guest at this ranch. There’s no imposition.”
She went back to her steak, suddenly devoid of appetite. Now she was going to have to be alone with the man again. But at least she’d made it clear she wanted no favors from him.
She pushed the steak away. “Well, then, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll get ready to see Hazel. It was nice meeting you,” she said to the British couple.
“I hope things change so you can stay,” Annette added.
Lyndie smiled and shrugged her shoulders helplessly. “I guess playing is for others—and not the self-employed—”
“Could have surprised me last night,” Bruce interjected, nonchalantly taking a bite of his steak.
Roger and Annette exchanged a delighted look.
“Well, I— I guess I’m not quite as used to whiskey as the locals,” Lyndie stammered, lamely trying to save her reputation.
“Then, you should drink more often,” Bruce commented, clearly holding back a grin.
Lyndie wanted to punch him.
Instead, she turned to leave, an old saying following her out the door. If a girl is brave enough, she can do without a reputation.
All she knew was that a girl sure had to be brave around Bruce Everett.
Four
Lyndie said nothing during the ride to Hazel’s. She sat silent, once more watching Bruce’s Adonis profile by the green dashboard light.
The truck pulled through the wrought-iron gates of the Lazy M ranch. Perfunctorily, Bruce held the truck door for her and walked her to the entrance.
“C’mon in!” Hazel announced when she answered the door. “Well, don’t you two look like a fine surprise. Giddy-ap in here and let me look at you both!”
Lyndie opened her mouth to protest that only she needed to speak with Hazel, but suddenly she realized how rude that would appear. After all, Bruce had driven her to the Lazy M, and he was one of Hazel’s friends.
She closed her mouth, and along with Bruce stepped inside Hazel’s antique-filled parlor.
Portraits and tintypes of McCallums, her very own ancestors, stared back at her from the walls. It seemed even they were holding their collective breath.
“Ebby, get us some refreshment, won’t you? We got company,” Hazel said when Ebby appeared at the elaborately carved walnut pocket doors.
Ebby looked more than pleased to see them. “Right away! Coming right away!” she promised, wringing her hands excitedly on her white apron.
“What brings you two out here to see me?” Hazel asked, gesturing to the silk-covered parlor love seat.
Once again, Lyndie felt set up, but somehow it was a trap of her own making. She sat next to Bruce on the love seat.
The tiny Victorian piece was not made for modern figures. She found she was practically sitting on Bruce’s lap once he splayed his legs and accepted the brandy from Ebby.
Deciding to be out with it, Lyndie declined refreshment and said, “Hazel, I can’t let you do it. I found out about the MDR Corporation and your generous investment in Milady, but I can’t accept it. It’s risky—and even as hard as I know I’ll work for it, I can’t accept that there’s even the possibility of losing your money. So I’m declining—”
“You’re declining the offer of good honest cash?” Bruce interrupted. “What kind of businesswoman are you?”
Lyndie’s temper snapped. “Look, Mr. Everett, in all respect, I don’t need your opinions. This really is between Hazel and me.”
Hazel glanced from one to the other. She seemed to want to say something, but the words eluded her—a rarity where Hazel McCallum was concerned.
“Lyndie, dear, I don’t cotton to unwanted opinions any more than you do, but I think Bruce is right,” she began hesitantly. “It’s good honest cash. It’s what you need to expand. And it’s also what you need in order to take this vacation and get a break from the work that—according to your mother—is grinding you into the ground.”
“I’ll be fine,” Lyndie declared. “But I couldn’t live with myself if the business took a downturn and I couldn’t give you a profit, let alone repay the debt.”
“You won’t lose it. It’s not a possibility,” the cattle baroness said firmly.
“But what if—”
Hazel cut her off.
“Lyndie, let this settle it. Take the MDR Corporation’s cash for now. When you’ve had a rest up here and your time at the dude ranch is up, you can go back to New Orleans and find new investors.”
“But that may take time. I should go now—”
Hazel put up her hand. “I won’t hear of it.” Her notorious Prussian-blue eyes glittered with mischief. “Humor an old woman, will you, Lyndie.”
Lyndie wanted to roll her eyes. Hazel had caught her in a web but good.
“It’s only for a few weeks. You’ll be home before the month is up, and the same problems will be there waiting for you when you do.”
Setting her jaw, Lyndie agreed. “Fine. But I’m paying interest on the money, five percent over prime. That’s more than the bank pays.”
Hazel laughed. Even Bruce looked as if he was biting back a chuckle.
“Excellent. Then, we have an agreement? You’ll take MDR’s cash and stay here as long as you promised?” Hazel’s silver eyebrows went up.
“Yes.”
Lyndie released her breath. She didn’t know how she was going to pay the interest, let alone procure new financing, but she would do it if taking the money for a time would make her great-aunt happy.
“Now do have a cookie. It’s my mother’s recipe. Made with essence of violet—quite the rage in eighteen ninety-five.” Hazel held out a hand-painted plate filled with pale butter cookies.
Even though she had no appetite, Lyndie took one.
For the next twenty minutes, Hazel made small talk. Finally, when the parlor clock chimed, Bruce rose from the settee. In his flannel shirt and jeans, he looked like a giant in the beautiful parlor.
“Part of ranch life is getting up early, Hazel, so if you don’t mind?” He reached for his ubiquitous black Stetson, which Lyndie hadn’t noticed him place on a nearby table.
“Yes, that’s right.” The gleam in Hazel’s eyes danced. “And this girl of mine needs rest and lots of it. Now, you promise to get her to bed right away.”
Lyndie was so exhausted that she’d kissed Hazel good-night and gone out the front door before she realized exactly what the old girl had said. Or, in truth, what the old girl had meant.
“She’s downright wicked, isn’t she,” Lyndie said in a quiet tone as they pulled out of the Lazy M ranch.
Bruce smiled. “She’s one of a kind, that’s for sure. I always wanted a woman like Hazel.”
“She’s available, you know,” she answered archly.
He looked at her. His eyes warmed in the pale green light. “I know, but unfortunately for me, Hazel’s out of the reckoning for h
aving babies—and I want lots of them.”
His comment shocked her. She didn’t want to think of him as a family man. She’d wanted children herself, but Mitch had always put it off. After she’d discovered the true nature of his character, she was almost relieved they hadn’t had children. But that had left her wanting. A family, a husband, children. It didn’t seem like anything she was entitled to. Her mother hadn’t gotten it; neither, it seemed, would she.
But then, here was this cowboy sitting next to her, telling her he had the same yearning. It made him way too appealing. It made him dangerous.
“What’re you thinking? You don’t like babies?” He returned to the road.
She shook her head. “Love them. Don’t have any—hear they’re a lot of trouble.”
“That it?”
She almost laughed. She didn’t know what else to say. Men just didn’t talk like this in the city. An urban man was more apt to show a woman the keys to his sports car than look in her mouth to see if she was good breeding stock.
“What more is there?” she asked, quashing her trepidation on the subject.
“Well, how many kids would you want?”
She tried to hide her surprise. “It depends, doesn’t it?”
“On what?”
“On the father.” She looked at him as if he were crazy.
He nodded. “The father’s good. Go on that one. Then, how many?”
“Look, I’m not the baby-factory type. I mean, I’ve certainly got good wide hips—I know it every time I go to buy a pair of pants—but my idea of child-rearing isn’t just like having puppies. They’re expensive, you know. Kids.”
She hoped that might set him straight. After all, he had a good enough job at Hazel’s dude ranch, but he certainly couldn’t tack a wife and kids onto the back of the bunkhouse.
“I never thought of it that way,” he said pensively. “My parents had seven kids. Somehow they managed. They saw to it there was food on the table and love in the house. That kinda taught me to believe that if something’s important, you can’t think about the cost.”
She gave him an ironic smile. “I’m afraid I can’t afford idealism. My mother raised me alone and it was difficult. So difficult that I’m determined not to repeat it. Besides, I have to confess I’m a little preoccupied with fiscal responsibility right now—as you know, since you were sitting through my whole conversation with Hazel.”
“You worry too much about that business.”
Her sigh was involuntary. “The business is all I have. It’s what holds me together. I work hard. Hell, for the last couple of years I’ve done nothing but work hard.”
“But you have to play, too.”
There was no arguing with his logic.
“You don’t have time to play when you’re drowning,” she said grimly.
He looked over at her.
“Then, let someone save you.”
She let out a bitter laugh. “No one saved my mother from being a single mom, and if I’d had a child with Mitch I’d be in the same lonely sinking boat. So, no thanks.”
“In my world, we don’t abandon family.”
She let the words fall into silence. The temptation was so great to believe him, to let someone else be strong. But the fear it aroused was worse than the comfort.
Something was on his mind, she could see it. She would have to put him off now, or it would be hard going for her, she just knew it.
Stammering, she confessed, “I guess what happened to my mom and what happened with Mitch—well, it’s just too hard to believe in commitment and love and devotion— It’s hard to allow yourself the luxury of believing, when you’ve had to watch them being taken away.”
He stared at her between glances at the road. “Look, last night at the mill… It was…” His words trailed off.
“Oh, I know. What in the world was I doing? I guess I’m a little crazy right now,” she dismissed, embarrassed.
“Hazel wants you to let loose. Forget about that shop for a while. It’d do you good.”
She rubbed her forehead. A headache was definitely coming on. “I appreciate the advice, but really, what’s it to you?”
“At the mill—with you—I realized I need to play, too.” His confession was harsh and bitter. She couldn’t help but be moved by it. His devotion to Katherine proved he was probably more steadfast than Mitch had been, and it suddenly made her ashamed of her conclusions about him. He was hurting, too.
Gently, she began, “Hazel told me what happened to your girlfriend. I’m sorry. It must have been terrible.”
He said nothing.
The silence became oppressive.
“Look,” she began with a deep breath, “you can’t go by my opinions. I’m the creature of my own experience. But you—well, you sound like you had a great family life. So I hope you do start playing. You deserve it, after what you’ve been through. You’ve got a lot to give.”
“And you give too much. You need to learn to take,” he urged.
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Sounds so good, but I’m way too much of a coward. Sorry.”
She was relieved that they’d turned into the dude ranch.
“Well, thank you for the ride. Let me know if I owe you anything—for gasoline or whatever.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say.
The truck pulled up to her bunkhouse. He put it in Park and turned to her. “What was he like? Your husband?”
The question took her aback. “He was—he was, well, I guess he was great at the beginning. I certainly thought I loved him. But then he turned into a jerk.” She laughed darkly. “Yep, that’s about the long and short of it.”
He took her chin in his strong hand and their gazes locked. “He took the play out of you. He stole it just like a thief steals a diamond bracelet. You’ve got to get it back. It was yours and you need it.”
Her stomach knotted. His touch left a feather-like arousal in her loins. His words left her on the verge of tears.
Steeling herself, she said, “Yes, he stole from me. But how can I get it back? I can’t afford another diamond bracelet.”
“Let someone else give you one.”
She finally had a way out of the emotional maze he was putting her through. “Again, that sounds perfect. Just like the old line about how to be a millionaire—you know, you find a job that pays a million an hour, work for an hour, and there you go.” She laughed.
“But I have news for you, Mr. Everett, it just doesn’t work that way. I could get a million guys to promise me the world, but what will I really get other than an overactive libido?”
“Sometimes men keep their promises,” he retorted.
“Maybe. But rule me out of that game. I’ve got too much work to do. At least my shop might take care of me in my old age. You, from what Hazel says about your youth, might be the type I couldn’t count on until dawn.”
His jaw tightened. “I can go past dawn. You wanna test me?”
Her breath caught.
He let go of her chin.
“Good night, Miss Clay. We’re hitting the trail early, so I heartily recommend you get some rest.”
She looked at him for a moment, then let herself out of the truck.
He took off in a cloud of dust.
Confused, she let herself into her bunkhouse room.
As she stripped and pulled back the covers, she wondered why she was even bothering. She knew she wasn’t going to get any sleep that night. And even if she did doze off, the only thing she was going to dream of was Bruce Everett.
And wolfish white smiles that promised pleasure and damnation with one lopsided grin.
Droopy-eyed, Lyndie reined Girlie left, to follow the rest of the pack. They’d been at the trail for over an hour when they’d come to a crossroads.
“Not there. Don’t ever go there,” Justin instructed the group as they were about to take the wrong trail.
“What’s up there?” Lyndie asked, tagging to the rear with Justin.
The trail-man only looked distant. “Som’un bad happened on that trail. We don’t use it anymore.”
Lyndie strained to see up the winding trail as far as she could. Mini avalanches of rock littered the path. The trail seemed to become almost vertical as it wound up the mountain into the snow.
A shiver went through her. Somehow she knew that was the path on which Katherine had lost her life.
She stared ahead at Bruce.
He seemed pointedly oblivious of the forbidden path. Instead, like any good guide, his attention was on his riders and the condition of the trail ahead. But he sat his horse with a stiffer back than usual, and Lyndie wondered if passing the fork in the trail hit a raw spot within him.
“Does anyone ever go up there anymore?” she asked Justin.
He only shook his head. “When the boss is in a temper he goes, but only then.”
Lyndie returned her attention to the trail, her thoughts far away.
Roger and Annette were ahead of her on a couple of Appaloosas. Another two women, sisters, had signed up for the dude ranch from Los Angeles. They were outrageously flirtatious with their guide Justin, a burly redheaded cowboy who headed the trail, and Lyndie almost envied them.
They were playing.
Bruce abruptly went to the rear on his dun quarter horse, Beastie Boy. Girlie kept wanting to turn around and nip Beastie Boy. At one point, Lyndie laughed out loud: the horses seemed to be mirroring the tensions of their riders.
But she got nothing but a frosty stare from Bruce.
Finally they stopped at a stream where the chuck wagon met them for breakfast.
Justin held her horse while she dismounted. She had liked Justin on sight. The young man was every woman’s idea of the boy next door. His grin was contagious, and she could see he had a soft spot for the ladies. Kim and Susan, the women from L.A., positively purred whenever he got within pheromone distance.
“How you like it so far?” Justin asked Lyndie while they were served bacon and eggs from the chuck wagon fire.
“Unfortunately, I missed yesterday’s lesson, but I guess I can keep up,” Lyndie offered.
The Cowboy Claims His Lady Page 5