Erik hadn’t had many surprises in his thirty-three years, but this was near the top of the list so far. “Steak and cottage-fried potatoes? Really? You’re sure?”
Layne nodded. “Yes.” She met Erik’s astonished face with laughing eyes. “But I’ll order my own wine, thanks.”
Erik recovered enough to place their order and when the food came, Layne gazed down at her plate and the huge slab of prime rib that covered it. Actually, she thought, she only wanted a piece of beef, not the entire cow.
“Good grief,” she exclaimed, “I hope you’re hungry, ’cause you’re gonna eat a whole lot of this, I’m afraid. There’s no way I can get through all this.”
Erik grinned at her, and momentarily his eyes trapped hers, her beautiful blue eyes. “I’ve yet to meet a steak I turned away, but they’ve got doggy bags here. Whatever you can’t finish, you can take home and have tomorrow.”
The prime rib was more than Layne expected. It was beyond delicious. It was heavenly. She was surprised as she finished the last bite, leaving only a few cottage-fries on the plate and a smattering of salad in the bowl.
Erik looked at Layne in surprised amusement, noting her empty plate. “So you like beef?”
“I love a good steak. You were, uh, a bit overbearing.”
“And everything you did, everything you said, I deserved.” Erik reached across the table and grasped her hand. “I’m the one who needs to apologize for my boorish behavior.”
His sincerity and the warm hand clasping hers sent an unfamiliar wave of . . . what? Pleasure? Hope? Longing? Whatever it was, she slowly pulled her hand back, not knowing what else to do.
~ ~ ~
Later, walking through the parking lot to their cars, Layne turned to him. “Are you up to a short walk? It’s a lovely evening.” She didn’t want the evening to end, and besides, there were a couple questions she had to ask. But only if and when the time was right.
Erik agreed, so they left the cars behind and walked into the cool early evening, with no destination in mind. They strolled easily, checking window displays and storefronts until they came to a child’s clothing store.
“Look at those dresses,” Layne commented, gazing through the window at the display. “They’re so cute.”
Erik nodded. “Yeah.”
Layne took a moment to form the question in her mind. It had to be vague. “A while ago you told me something about a niece of yours? Your sister’s child?”
Erik shot her a glance. “I don’t recall. What was it?”
Oh shit! “That she was living with a grandmother, but you were unsure of where.” Layne stretched her neck, as if trying to see farther into the display area. “What’s your closest guess?” she asked casually.
“Well,” he said, “Rhonda’s husband grew up in Chesterville, Louisiana, so that’s where I’m going to start when the time comes.”
Layne merely nodded as she continued to look at the children’s displays. As far as she knew, Chesterville was a very small town, so that narrowed it down even more. She filed it away, in case she needed it later. “What are your thoughts about the child? You’re going after custody at some point? Is that what you mean by when the time comes?”
“Yes, that’s what I mean,” Erik replied, “but I’m not quite ready yet.”
“What are you waiting for?”
“I’m not really sure,” he answered, “but I think she should have a mother, a complete family.”
A complete family? Not if Joyce Callaway has anything to say about it. “Um,” Layne hesitated. “This is absolutely none of my business, but what about Joyce Callaway?” There, she said it! It was out in the open!
Erik’s gaze shot to hers. “What about her?” he questioned, searching her face.
“Um, the word on the street”— oh shit, now you’ve done it! Again! — “is that she’s your girlfriend, maybe even your fiancée by now.”
“I’ve dated her,” he admitted, “but nothing serious.”
“Have you told your, um, other girlfriends about your niece?”
“I have no girlfriends or girlfriend,” Erik said, somewhat defensively. “They’re merely women I date occasionally. I’m no hermit. Although,” he added, “I’ve probably dated Joyce more often than the others.”
“Why is that?” Layne asked innocently. “Why her specifically?”
“She always seems to be around, showing up at places where I happen to be. She seemed to have the same interests as I have.”
Yeah, that was certainly believable! The words ‘the others’ did not escape Layne either. She glanced at him, wondering just where she would fit into his dating slots. Could she merely be an occasional date? Did she want to be an occasional date? Is she merely an occasional date? One of ‘the others’? She wasn’t at all happy with any of those possibilities. “Do you enjoy her company?”
“Only when you weren’t available,” Erik answered.
Ignoring his response, she asked, “Has your niece ever come up in your discussions?
Erik shrugged. “I don’t recall, not that it would matter. That’s a private part of my life.”
“Oh God, Erik,” Layne quickly replied, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to pry. I just thought your niece was an important part of your life.”
“You weren’t prying. She is an important part, or will be, rather, once I get full custody. You’re actually the only one I’ve confided in about her.” He paused for a moment. “Well,” he continued, “I guess I have mentioned her to Joyce too.”
“What are her thoughts?” So far her prying questions had met little resistance. She figured she might as well keep digging.
“I guess if anything serious ever happened between us, she’s said she’d love to have the child and would definitely love living on the ranch. She can’t picture anything better.”
Oh God, Layne thought, biting her tongue to keep things to herself. Calloway really has the wool pulled over his eyes. He cannot be that blind!
Erik shot her another sharp glance. “Is she someone you know?”
Layne shook her head. “No,” she lied. “Just word on the street.”
“Oh. There seems to be a lot of word on the street.”
They continued on in silence, each in their own thoughts. Finally, Erik reached for Layne’s hand and stopped.
“Layne,” he said, still gently holding her hand, “please understand. This is important. Joyce Callaway is not my girlfriend. I do not have a girlfriend.” He kicked a pebble off the sidewalk and stopped. “Would you mind if I called you again sometime? I really enjoy being with you. Maybe,” he continued, casting her a boyish grin, “you quite possibly could become my very first girlfriend.”
That caught her by surprise, but Layne quickly recovered. “Thanks for the offer,” she responded lightheartedly, “but for now, I think I’ll just be a friend who happens to be a girl, not a girlfriend. I’d have most of the female population of San Antonio out for my scalp if I got to be your girlfriend!”
“Oh come on!”
“Seriously,” Layne said, giving his hand a light squeeze before pulling it away. His touch was doing funny things to her again. “I won’t be just another friend. I promise to be a true, loyal friend. Would that be okay?”
Erik pulled her close and gently wrapped his arms around her in a warm hug. “If that’s the best you can do for now, I’ll take it.”
Chapter 7
Two weeks had passed since Layne last saw Erik. He’d called several times, but never to request a date or to see her. Most times they talked well into the night, as friends might, and because of this, their friendship was growing. She now felt completely comfortable with him, and was finding him invading her thoughts more and more.
A musical tune broke into her thoughts. She clea
red away the stack of bills she’d started to pay, exposing her cell phone and felt the familiar heart-leap as Erik’s number showed up on the screen.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi,” he replied back, “it’s Erik.”
Why the hell did she react this way? What was it with this fuzzy, warm feeling washing through her? “I know,” she said softly. “I recognized your number.”
“Ah, you’ve got my number on your phone. That’s a good sign!”
“I’m sure the phone puts it there automatically, Erik.”
“Oh.” Momentary silence. “Nuts. Anyway,” he went on, “how’d you like to play cowboy, uh, cowgirl,” he corrected himself, “this weekend?”
“Does this offer have anything to do with cows and riding a horse?”
“Yeah, it does. It’s something that usually goes right along with being a cowgirl. Would that be a problem?”
“No, not at all,” Layne replied. “I mean, I’m certainly not a professional, but I have ridden horses here and there. Why are you asking?” She knew enough to know the talk of the town, this thing, this event called roundup, was coming up soon.
“Well, roundup is knockin’ on our door, and I was wondering if you’d like to join in?”
Whoa! All day in a saddle? Not sure her butt could take that . . . “Um, my roping skills need polishing, I’m afraid. And,” she added, “I fear I’d mostly be in the way. Besides, isn’t this usually a two - or three-day thing?”
“Well, sometimes more,” Erik said, “sometimes less. We’re going to move the herd from the summer pastures to pastures closer to the ranch for the winter. Usually there’s a critter or two that’s wandered off, so we’ve got to find them, no matter how long it takes. You’ll be there the first day for sure, and if you’re still interested, most likely at least one additional day. You’d just be riding along, keeping me company. That’s all you’d be involved in. No real cowboy stuff.”
“So it’s just for one day, possibly two?” Maybe her backside could handle that. It would be terribly embarrassing to have to get off and walk. “And you do take potty breaks now and then, right?”
“Yes we do. I’ll make sure that’s taken care of, don’t worry.”
“That’s good,” she said.
“It’s possible we’ll gather most of the herd the first day,” Erik continued, “then drive them down to the winter pasture the next.”
“So you stay with the cattle overnight?” Not real sure I’d enjoy that.
“The cowboys do, not necessarily us, if you come along, that is.”
“If we stay with the herd, um, where would we . . . you . . . I be?”
“We’d sleep on the ground, on roll-up mattresses and in sleeping bags.”
“Alone, or do we share one bag?”
Erik laughed. “One sleeping bag apiece, Layne, don’t worry.”
“And if we don’t sleep outside with the cattle? Where then?”
“We’d sleep in the house. I have six bedrooms, Layne. You’ve got to trust me by now. You upstairs, me downstairs. All you’d need is your toothbrush. Well,” he added, “pajamas and a comb too, I suppose.”
Layne let out a quiet sigh. Sleeping on the ground in a sleeping bag was not high on her fun-things-to-do list, but what were her thoughts of being alone with Erik Rivers, in his house? How times have changed. She certainly was not fearful of him. Not anymore. Her concern was, would it feel too right? Too comfortable, too possible?
No better time to find out, she decided. “I never did get to see the rest of your little cottage,” she said, recalling that most of her apartment could fit into his library. “I think too, that I’d enjoy seeing how you guys work. You’re sure about this? What will the other guys think about a woman being there?”
“Well,” Erik gave a throaty laugh, “the last time the guys saw you was when you ordered me to get away from your car. I think they’ll enjoy seeing you again, probably hoping to see that same scene.”
“I’m sure they won’t.” Layne smiled into the phone. “Count on it.”
“It’s a deal then? You’ll join us?”
“Okay,” Layne agreed. “When do you want me there?”
“Friday, after work okay?”
“Sure. See you then.” That meant two nights at least. Oh boy.
~ ~ ~
Pajamas, comb, and toothbrush were in the bottom of the small suitcase. Layne surveyed the items. Surely Erik didn’t feel that was all she’d need for a two-day and two-night stayover? In addition to the shirt and jeans she was wearing, an extra shirt, panties and bra, socks, and jeans were neatly folded in. She counted on him to have soap, shampoo, and towels, if needed, and after a complete day on a horse, she was certain they would be. A final rummage through of closet and drawers confirmed it. She was ready.
~ ~ ~
Erik was waiting as she pulled into the parking area close to the house and reached in the back for her small suitcase. He was all smiles as he opened her door and took her hand to help her out.
“Hi,” he said, picking up the suitcase, “welcome to Rivers End Ranch. Again.” Erik looked at Layne with honest appreciation, picturing her in his life, running the ranch. Slow down, you’re getting way ahead of yourself! “I’m going to take a chance and assume this visit will be better than your last one,” he said, switching hands to carry the suitcase. “There’s got to be more in here than a toothbrush, comb, and pajamas! Did you include a couple of bricks? A boulder or two perhaps?”
Layne checked him with a sideways glance, finding only a genuine smile. “Hey,” she said with a grin, “do you really think it’s an easy task to make myself pretty? Hours and hours go into preparation. I’ve got to have my stuff.”
“Sorry, that won’t fly with me. You need no preparation whatsoever, as far as I’m concerned.”
“I’ll file that little bit of information away. It’s nice to know I can fool you so easily,” she said as Erik pulled open the massive door and followed her inside. She stood in the foyer, looking around. “Do you supply maps?”
“Maps?”
“I don’t want to get lost in here. What if I wander into some unused room, and my withered remains are found several years later? I’ll bet you don’t even know how many rooms you’ve got in here.” She looked at him. “Do you?”
Erik gave a sheepish shrug. “Well,” he said, putting the suitcase down, “I guess there are a few places I haven’t spent much time in, but you’ve got to remember that someday they’ll be filled with kids.”
“So,” Layne replied, gazing around at her surroundings, “where are all these children going to come from? Any prospective wife might want to know. Will she be expected to pop out a child every nine months? For countless years?”
Erik could not hide his surprise at Layne’s question. “No, I mean, the normal number of children . . . three maybe. Hell, I don’t know.”
“Three won’t begin to fill all these rooms,” she pointed out with a giggle. “You’re going to need more than that.”
“I don’t expect to marry a baby factory. That’s not what I mean at all,” Erik defended himself. “Kids will have friends, there will be sleepovers, parties, whatever.”
“I understand,” Layne said, putting her hand on his arm. “I’m just teasing you, and I think the fact that you love children is wonderful.” She removed her hand from his arm, suddenly becoming very aware of the heat emanating from his touch. “And,” she continued, careful to leave his arm alone, “I’m sorry about my map comments. It’s a lovely home. I’m sure I’ll find my way around.”
“Friends don’t need to say they’re sorry,” Erik said softly. “It is a large house, isn’t it? I think quite possibly the architect slipped with his ruler, or we got drunk together one night. Anyway,” he continued, picking up
Layne’s suitcase with the other hand, “your room is upstairs, follow me.”
“Um,” Layne asked over her shoulder as she started to climb the long, winding staircase in front of Erik, “where is your room?”
“Layne,” he replied, stopping to turn to her, “you’ve got to start trusting me sometime. There are four bedrooms upstairs and two downstairs. All the upstairs rooms have deadbolt locks. Use them if you feel they’re needed.”
Then Layne stopped mid-step, almost causing a mid-stairs collision. “Erik, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I trust you completely, I really do. I’d sleep in the same bedroom, if need be.” Oh no, don’t even go there! “And I certainly see no need of deadbolts, although you may want to consider removing them when the children’s hands can reach a certain height.”
“I didn’t take it that way,” Erik replied, clearing his mind of the shared bedroom possibilities, “and remember, friends don’t . . .”
“I know, I know,” Layne interrupted, “I don’t need to say I’m sorry, but still, I am.”
Erik opened the door to Layne’s bedroom and followed her inside with the suitcase. She took two steps and stopped, in total awe of the room’s size. A good share of her apartment could fit in the room! “Oh my God,” she exclaimed. “This is, um, rather large.” She walked deeper into the room and peeked into the adjoining bathroom. Again she stood in awe. “Why don’t I just live in here? Or maybe even in this shower stall,” she added, after poking her head into it.
“It’s the children thing again,” he explained sheepishly. “Look,” he continued, changing the subject and sweeping an arm throughout the room, “the closets and dressers are empty. Feel free to put your things away.”
Closets and dressers? Her apartment bedroom had one small closet and one small dresser! “Okay, I’ll flip a coin to see which of these choices to use.” She looked around the room. “Let’s see,” she said, pointing to one of the three chests of drawers, “my jeans can go there, and my shirts can,” she continued, pointing to another of the three, “go there. Then, my . . .”
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