Lauren

by Mima

  “Tree!” She gasped out to Walt.

  “Yup.”

  For a handful of seconds, they continued on their too fast, too bouncy way.

  “Walt! Tree!” She repeated.

  “I see it. Let’s take it.”

  Take it? Take it where? He made it sound like he would just drop it in the saddlebag pouch with her room key. They were up the rise now. The tree was right there! Finally, Lauren processed he was going to have the horse go over it. As in jump.

  It was hard to think with her brain jiggling and her nails sunk into the meat of Walt’s arm, with the looming evergreen like a beam barring her brain’s door shut. She sucked in a breath. Her thoughts scrambled between a desperate refusal and an awed Yee-haw! Was she going to allow this?

  “Listen, you,” she scolded the guy wearing nothing but a black hat. “You’re bold as brass and that ass isn’t fine enough for me to lose my head.”

  “No one forced you to go swimming with me.”

  She looked at him with chiding disbelief. “You tossed me in!”

  He mashed his mouth around in frustration. “You know what I mean. You been flirting with me all along. That kiss was good.”

  She nodded. Her spectacular kiss in the stable had ended up with a shockingly brazen scene in the hot tub, but it was time to recognize the capital-T trouble she was toying with.

  “I’ll save a dance for you at the hoedown, but I’ll be going alone.” A twinge in her chest at the thought she’d probably be going home alone, too.

  Oh, well, the week was young. She’d wanted social distraction when she’d gone to the corral and now she’d find more of it at the dance.

  Stepping up onto the flagstones, water gushed in a not very sexy way. Her clothes were awkwardly heavy. “Later, Luke.”

  There was no grace that could save her as she squelched away, leaving a river behind her.

  “Damn, baby. Don’t go.”

  Jaw clenched, she shook her head and kept walking. He probably didn’t even remember her name.

  Back in the cabin she took a quick shower, then dressed in a breezy, layered chiffon skirt of deep amethyst. A tailored black button-down blouse with a dramatically pointed collar went on top. For a moment she was indecisive about her shoes. For dancing, she’d prefer her pink heels, but her feet had already trod two airports in them. Sighing at her lack of height, she slipped her feet into her wet roman flats with the thin silver straps. They’d dry soon enough.

  She put in her large black filigree earrings and added a set of stacking jeweled rings to one hand, with a cute braided metal belt over the blouse. To match her defiant mood, her hair went spikier than usual up on top. Makeup was an issue. It was a little too early to go for a full evening look. She went with strong, Egyptian-style eyeliner that accentuated her bangs, but just a little mascara and no shadow, blush, or lipstick.

  With her key in her skirt pocket, she set off. Thinking of the bustle and noise of Manhattan, it was hard not to feel a little surprised again by her location. It was so very . . . natural. The mountains surrounding her felt familiar though, much like the encompassing skyscrapers she was used to. The cowboy at the river was still next to his horse, working on the saddle. The lowering sun sparkled on the water in a picturesque way.

  Smiling, she cut across a grassy park-like area and headed straight up the rise toward the barn. Some teens ran past in cowboy boots, jeans, plaid shirts, and cowboy hats.

  One in the back called out, “Yo, dawg! Wait up!”

  Her smile widened. Somehow city slang had become teen slang. She wondered if these white country kids would get along with all the various shades of multicultural kids in New York. Probably, if they gave each other a chance. After all, she’d been a loud kid from Brooklyn and she’d done just fine with Sorrel when they were thrown together at NYU.

  The barn swarmed with people. Hay bales had been set up along the entrance, stacked to make stadium seating. The barn itself was crisscrossed with bare bulb strings and old railroad oil lanterns flickered on all the pillars. There were hay bales here, too. A band was setting up on a low stage in the corner. The bar in the opposite corner was already crowded, and long tables of food were being laid out on one side. Relief pooled inside her at Sorrel’s absence.

  Lauren went over and asked the food ladies if she could help, but was shooed away and given a dish of strawberries and shortbread with fresh clotted cream. She found a hay bale perch, watched the sound check, and delighted in her treat.

  Somehow the flirtation with Luke had settled her, given her confidence. She would enjoy this trip. While that might mean she’d let a man pass through her bed, it would be fully her decision, and not because some jerk railroaded her.

  Soon a young cowboy stood in front of her. He looked her over critically. “Hoo-ee, you sure are pretty. Are you thirsty?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Are you cold?”

  She was a little, but said, “Nope, I’m good.”

  “How about a hat? You need a hat.”

  She laughed. “You offering yours?”

  He looked scandalized, but said mildly, “No, Ma’am. I just know where the locker is for the guests.”

  He was lanky but wide-shouldered, and lean, too. She could see he hadn’t grown into his full strength but already did hard labor. His straw cowboy hat was very lovely, with a pretty feather fan stuck to the front of the crest.

  Lauren jumped down off her prickly bale. “I’m Lauren. I’d love to borrow a hat.”

  “I’m Jeb.”

  Jeb? Honest-to-God.

  She followed Jeb out into the twilight toward the stables just as the band began their first song. That was okay with her, since they were more rock than she liked. It occurred to her she had never been so stupid as to follow a strange man to an unknown location in all her life. The city had spent a lifetime training her not to judge books by their covers, but somehow she couldn’t be worried about this young man who was so patently less dangerous than Luke.

  People were streaming up the rise from the cabins and the main lodge. There were a few large coach lights on poles near the entrance, and farther out the campfire threw flickering light in the growing darkness.

  “The hats are just here at the end of the stables. They’ve got all sizes.”

  “I’ve never worn a cowgirl hat before.”

  As they approached the stables, a motion light kicked on, blinding her. That made the small tack room he took her into all the more dark. It smelled of leather and horse.

  He opened a wide metal locker. “Lessee. Looks like you might need one of these small ones.”

  She looked in and gasped in delight. “Purple! They make purple ones!”

  She snatched it up. It was woven straw, like Jeb’s, but glossy with lacquer. It had a little white braided rope running around the band.

  “If that’s what the lady likes, that’s what she’ll wear.”

  “Do I owe you money for this?” Delighted, she shoved it on her head. Her hair mashed down into her face.

  Jeb laughed. “No, like this.”

  He took his off, revealing crushed blond curls. He pushed his hand through his hair, then fit the front of his hat down on his forehead, drawing his hair back. “And there’s no charge to borrow, only to keep.”

  She copied him, slicking her bangs to the side and scooping the hat on top.

  They smiled at each other. There was a heat in his eyes that made her adjust his age up a bit above legal. He was adorable. This had been happening more and more lately, where she’d begun to feel too old for some of the men she met. Thirty loomed on the horizon, and young guys seemed young.

  The band’s electric guitars wailed in the distance. His face lit up. “You do lines?”

  Chewing on her lip to keep from laughter, she guessed he wasn’t talking about coke, but the an
swer was the same. “I’m afraid I don’t.”

  He closed up the hat locker. The lighting here was muted. The brighter outdoor light glared a white square through the open stable doors while they stood in a shadowed room off the main aisle.

  He leaned against the locker and crossed his arms. “I could give you lessons.”

  “Here?”

  He nodded. “Nobody’ll laugh if you go flailing around up there in the barn, but if you had private lessons down here, you’d be able to slide right into the crowd. It’s just a bit of memorization.”

  Lauren considered the man who was too young to come right out and proposition her. Luke had had his hands down her pants by now. She scanned him again. Western shirt with the scalloped edging across the chest, hideous jeans, belt buckle with a bear on it. Toes of well-worn cowboy boots pointed at her. She could take private lessons with this kid and never have to deal with the arrogance of a black hat rodeo cowboy.

  She could take, she thought with a thrill of confidence, a lot more from this kid than lessons. Maybe, for the first time in her life, she’d be the one giving lessons. It had been over a year since she’d liked a date enough to start a relationship. Luke had warmed her up. Sorrel’s presence had stirred her up. Maybe adorable Jeb could soothe her down. Was that predatory of her?

  Jeb sensed her consideration and stood up, settling his thumbs over the bronze bear. “It’s all about swagger and keeping the beat. The rest is just some turns.” He walked around behind her, standing closer than he had before. “Want to try it?”

  She could let him lead her in a “dance lesson” or she could turn around right now and break the pretense. Letting him work his wiles felt sweet. Trying some cougar wiles on him would be considerably less sweet.

  Would she be a dance partner or the cougar?

  Lauren jumped into the crowd, dropping the wireless mic.

  “Whoa, Nellie!” someone yelled. The mood changed from euphoric to tense. People jostled her all around, but they loosened and pulled back from her angry charge.

  “You spoiled little brat!” Sorrel shouted. “This is my home! These people are guests. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  She and Sorrel strode toward each other, but Lauren didn’t pull up when they neared. She drew back her arm and slapped Sorrel in the face.

  “How dare you?” Her palm burned and she felt the impact all the way up to her shoulder. Sorrel staggered back amid catcalls and applause. The determined drummer picked up a beat, trying to draw attention from the meltdown that flowed through Lauren’s veins like lava. Sorrel turned back toward her, clutching her cheek, and the horror on her face just made Lauren even angrier.

  “Just once?” she screamed at Sorrel. “And after everything you’ve done to me, what the fuck are you two still doing together?”

  “Yeah! Hands off her man,” someone called from nearby.

  The crowd crept closer.

  “Sorrel, honey, don’t you take her garbage. You stand up and show her.” A man’s voice shouted from behind Lauren.

  “You’re coming outside with me,” Sorrel hissed. “And you will apologize. This is personal and your behavior is inexcusable.”

  “My behavior!” For an instant, the room washed white and Lauren couldn’t breathe. She lunged at Sorrel.

  The crowd came around them as Sorrel grappled with her, both of them shoving and grabbing to stop the other from hitting. People were trying to pull them apart, but they were also pressing into Lauren’s back, driving her forward. Someone threw a punch at someone else, a hand flying straight across the small gap between Lauren’s and Sorrel’s faces.

  Lauren jerked back out of instinct, and someone grabbed her ass in a full-handed grope. She swung and lashed out again, knowing as the strike landed that the blonde in the pink cowboy hat probably wasn’t the guilty party. The blonde shrieked and dove back at Lauren with long painted nails cocked like talons. She dodged, but they raked across her arm.

  When she turned back toward Sorrel, she was gone. From there on out, it was a blur. Someone pulled her hair. Someone else slapped her. She hit a couple more people, pain exploding up her arm. And someone tromped on her toes, exposed in their pretty sandals. She was rammed so hard from behind that she staggered and almost went down, but someone else grabbed her and set her aside.

  Beer flew over the crowd in a smelly splatter, and a man’s voice on the mic pleaded for calm and order.

  Lauren tucked her hand in his elbow and they went back up toward the glowing barn. True to his word, Jeb showed her how to “do lines,” or line dancing. But he’d fibbed when he’d said it was easy. She hadn’t felt this out of step since she’d gone to an advanced Zumba class. Laughing, she met Jeb’s friends and kept trying until the next band took the stage.

  Holding a beer Jeb had brought her, Lauren cooled off at the side of the barn, talking to a pretty strawberry blonde who had a striking side braid. Jeb broke away from his ring of boys, and Lauren curved her hand around his waist as he came up to her. His eyes, she noted with surprise for the first time, were gray.

  “Hey,” he said, subdued and clearly anxious. “They’re ready to go to Rocky’s.”

  She tilted her head. So, his friends were leaving the hoedown? She smiled gently. “All right.”

  “I want you to come.” He blushed. “With us. I think you’re great.”

  She laid her fingers on his smooth cheek. “I think you’re great, too, Jeb. But I’m having a good time here. I’ll be staying.”

  He looked resolute. “Cool. Good. I’ll stay, too.”

  “Jeb—” she chided. Their interlude was not worth emotional upheaval. “Jeb, it was fun, it was light, and there’s absolutely no reason for you to stay.”

  He looked stunned, his brows coming together.

  Oh, dear. He wasn’t going to get surly with hurt pride was he? Well, that would be better than clinging. This didn’t feel good. Is this how some of her dates saw her when they turned her down for a second date?

  “I’ll be going home alone, I can guarantee that.” She might be greedy enough to gobble this poor boy on her first day of vacation, but she wasn’t a glutton. “No matter what.” She arched her brow to include him in that statement.

  He nodded, jaw clenched. “Got it.”

  Sliding her nails up into the curls at the top of his neck, she pulled him down and kissed him lightly. “Have fun with your friends. It was wonderful meeting you.”

  His hands held her hips hard. “Will I see you again?”

  She shrugged. “I’m here for the week.” Don’t play him, hissed her conscience. She made her voice cool and slick. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”

  His chin pulled back a bit. Message received. There would be no repeats of their stable lessons.

  “Okay. Okay.” He straightened his shoulders. “Well. Thanks. I mean, it was my pleasure.” He blushed again.

  He was like a human–golden retriever crossbreed. “I enjoyed myself immensely.” She shoved at his chest, stepping back from his hold. “Go on with your friends. Thanks for the beer.”

  He nodded, stepped back himself, hesitated. Tipping his hat, he mumbled, “Ma’am,” then shuffled off into the crowd of rowdy young things. There wasn’t a hatless head in the bunch.

  A naughty little thrill curved a smile on her face. She was pretty sure she’d handled him right and there’d be nothing but a spring in his step in an hour.

  This second band in the barn was acoustic. The four fiddlers lit up the atmosphere with musical electricity. She sat on a hay bale next to a feisty grandmother with a deep Texas twang who introduced herself as Eunice. Lauren was content to chat with her as they watched everyone square dance. Whenever anyone asked her to join a square, she declined firmly. There was only so much embarrassment she could take in one night.

  The string band finished up with a roun
d of two-step songs. Lauren would have liked to dance to these, but Jeb was gone—as he should be. Eunice kept up a running critique of which couples were the better dancers. As the band closed with a waltz by a gifted solo fiddler, Eunice at last fell quiet and they let the music wash over them. Cloud Canyon was surely a special place.

  When the third band was setting up, Sorrel appeared. “Nice hat.”

  Lauren’s heart about jumped out of her chest. “Thanks. Jeb got it for me.”

  Lauren stared at Sorrel. She wanted to slap her face or run. Shockingly, there was even some sort of muscle memory that wanted to hug her. She blinked, sitting up straight and stiff.

  Sorrel cocked her head. Her long, dark auburn hair was in silky waves to her waist, and her red crop-top tank showed her muscled abs while molding to her generous chest. She wore a pleated leather miniskirt and gorgeous colorful cowboy boots. “Are you having fun?”

  Lauren nodded. “Absolutely. This is Eunice. She’s been telling me about the Wild West. Eunice, this is Sorrel.”

  Eunice looked Sorrel up and down. “Your clothes shrank, dear. They don’t fit.”

  Sorrel and Lauren burst out laughing.

  “Oh, you young ladies. So bold,” Eunice huffed.

  “You want another beer?” Lauren asked her.

  “That would be nice. Such a good girl.”

  It would be Eunice’s fourth, but Lauren got up to get her one. “How about some cornbread, too?”

  “No, thank you. I’ll take some chips and that jalapeño dip if they have some, though.”

  With a mission secured, Lauren and Sorrel wove through the crowd. After they’d delivered Eunice’s request, Lauren followed Sorrel out to get some air.

  Just a few steps from the entrance, it was pitch black. As in, not enough light to see the ground. “Wow, it’s really dark.”

  “It’s night,” Sorrel said wryly. “This is night without civilization.”