Return to the Black Hills

by Debra Salonen

  “But my life is a mess and we have a couple of built-in chaperones to dodge.” She kicked her foot out of the water. “No simple task given my current condition.”

  Two chaperones. Remy and Shiloh.

  Naturally, he’d thought about what Shiloh might think if he started seeing Jessie socially, but he wasn’t sure why Remy’s presence had any bearing on Jessie’s love life. They were all adults, right? Unless Remy was merely an excuse.

  “So, were you hoping that by showing me your scars I’d be so turned off I’d give your sister a try?”

  Her eyes went wide with obvious surprise. She had. He advanced toward her, matching step for step as she hopped into deeper water. “Your sister seems like a very nice person, but I’m not into threesomes. And, honestly? Your back doesn’t freak me out. It’s a very visual reminder of the pain you must have endured, but we all have scars. Some are simply more obvious than others.”

  She stopped moving away from him. “I’m not easy.” She blanched and added quickly, “I don’t mean sexually. I mean, in general. But you have a daughter and I…I have my career.”

  “So, we keep those things separate.”

  He reached out to touch the side of her face. “Neither of those excuses is good enough to keep me from kissing you. Got any better ones?”

  He looked into her eyes and waited, watching for her answer. Her lips parted…and she smiled. “Not really.”

  “Good.” Then he leaned over to press his lips to hers. Soft and warm. Nice. Very nice. But salty.

  As if reading his mind, she pulled back and licked her lips. “You taste like seawater.”

  Which, apparently, wasn’t a bad thing, because she moved closer and kissed him again, lips parted this time, welcoming his tongue to explore and parry. The deeper he explored, the sweeter she tasted. Root beer and ice cream sweet. Jessie Bouchard sweet.

  He broke it off because his body started telling him it was more than happy to take things to the next level. Not so fast, he silently cautioned. One step at a time. He didn’t know for certain he could pull off a casual, summer fling, no strings attached. But he sure as hell wanted to consider the option.

  “Nice,” he said, taking a step back.

  “It was.” She sounded surprised. “You’re a good kisser. And here you gave me the impression you were out of practice.”

  He could tell she was teasing, but he definitely didn’t want to talk about his dating disasters of late. He hadn’t gone out with anyone since arriving in South Dakota. In part, because he’d come to the conclusion that single fathers of a certain age should never let their friends or family set them up on blind dates.

  “I haven’t roped for ten years, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how.”

  Her grin was so adorable and inviting he had no choice but to do the prudent thing. He sank under the water and kicked hard, surfacing at the base of the built-in steps. It was either get out of the pool now or embarrass himself in the most visible way possible. He walked straight to his towel and quickly wrapped it around his middle.

  “Thanks for the swim and the kiss,” he told her.

  “You’re welcome. Thanks for driving me to the sheriff and for the root-beer float.”

  She was floating on her back again. Water droplets sparkled in the dip of her belly button. The two swatches of red and white made him think of a candy cane. Christmas came early this year. But he wisely kept the thought to himself. Nothing was a given where Jessie was concerned. He was positive of that.

  “HI, BUCK,” MATTHEW CALLED out, motioning for Buck to squeeze into the cluster of people gathered around the retreat’s version of a campfire—a metal fire pit filled with fake logs and bright orange flames fueled by gas. “Glad to see you.”

  Buck had had no intention of joining the late-night “spew-fest,” as one of the other boarders had called it. “Cathartic as a coronary,” someone else had muttered.

  The day had been a long one. He’d turned in early and went right to sleep. Unfortunately, something woke him. A dream. A memory. A deep, sad sigh that was probably his own.

  He’d gotten out of bed and stepped to the window, in need of fresh air. He missed his ranch, he realized. This place offered wide-open spaces; they simply weren’t his wide-open spaces.

  From his window, he’d spotted the fire, glowing like the friendly inviting beer sign above the door of his favorite local bar. He missed drinking, too. Not the hangovers. Not the blank spots in his memory. Not the gut-wrenching fear of not knowing how he’d made it home. But he longed for the comforting distraction of other voices, people bemoaning every aspect of their lives in detail that usually shocked him. He even missed the smoke and beer smells that started out slightly nauseating but quickly became familiar and comforting.

  Before he could talk himself out of it, he’d grabbed his jacket, donning the moccasins Kat and the boys had given him a couple of Christmases ago. And here he was. And it was too late to back out. “I dozed off after dinner. What did I miss?”

  “Campfire talk is fluid,” Matthew said. “And like smoke, it disappears into the night sky never to be seen—or mentioned—again.”

  Buck wondered if that was possible. Maybe. He doubted it. But what did he have to lose?

  “What we call our Fire Starter question for the evening is twofold. First, what is your most joyful memory of Christmas? Second, what holiday memory is the one you’d most like to forget?”

  Buck made a soft harrumph. “What if they’re one and the same?”

  Matthew nodded wisely. “We get that a lot.”

  Buck waited for his turn, not completely certain he’d have the guts to say anything. Some of the shared memories were tragic, some poignant and filled with love. His was somewhere in the middle. It would probably sound foolish to the rest of the group, but when the stranger beside him finished speaking, Buck cleared his throat and spoke.

  “For my ninth birthday, I wrote a letter to Santa asking for a horse. I was probably too old to believe in Santa, but my mother was a kind, quiet woman who did her best to make us believe in things we couldn’t see—Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, hobgoblins. Even God.”

  There was a soft murmur from the others. It wasn’t his intention to cast aspersions on anyone’s beliefs. But what happened that night pretty much killed any trust in anything he couldn’t hold concretely in his hand.

  “I didn’t get a horse. That wasn’t a big surprise, actually. Times were tough. My dad worked construction, and this was in South Dakota. If you didn’t have a shell up by the first of November, you could kiss any steady work goodbye. I seem to remember we got an early snow that year. Dad did his best, but times were lean. But,” he said, recalling this story was also supposed to be a happy memory, “I did receive a puppy in my stockin’ on Christmas morning.”

  “Oh,” several of the female members of the group cried in unison. “How sweet!”

  “A wiggly, long-tongue homely stray that Santa must have found wandering the streets. I called him Riley—after that TV show The Life of Riley. He was street-smart and hungry, but he wasn’t mean. You could tell that just by looking in his eyes.”

  Buck could still see that dumb dog plain as day. He’d had dozens of dogs since then. Ranch dogs came and went. He fed ’em, got ’em fixed, and gave ’em all the shots they needed. But he never felt the same way about any of them as he did toward Riley.

  “What happened?” someone asked.

  “I had the best day of my young life. The sun came out and the air warmed almost as if God was smiling on us. My brothers and I played outside all day while Mother cooked and baked. Dad went off for some visitin’, but he promised to come home early for our feast.”

  Buck paused. His poor mother. She tried. All of her life, she tried. “Dad wasn’t a mean man—unless he got some drink in him,” he said, slowly.

  He looked around and saw the kind of silent acknowledgments he’d found in AA. “He didn’t show up for dinner, but we ate and we pretended e
verything was all right. My dog stayed under my chair the whole time.” He grinned. “’Cause like any kid, I snuck pieces of turkey to him.”

  He took a deep breath and let it out. “To make a long story short, we boys all slept in the same bed. I was usually in the middle, but I made my brother change places with me so I could keep my hand on my dog.”

  He rolled his shoulders. “At some point, I musta let go. Riley went into the kitchen and got up on the table and ate my father’s dinner. Every bite. Including half a mincemeat pie. Dad’s favorite.”

  A hushed murmur could be heard over the soft hiss of the fake fire. “What did he do when he got back?” a brave soul asked.

  Buck held up his hand to reassure them. “He didn’t kill the dog, if that’s what you’re thinking. But he was mad, and like I said, he had a temper when he’d been drinking. He yanked me out of bed and made me take the dog outside. He found a long rope and he watched while I tied Riley to a tree, then he sent me inside.”

  Buck could feel his chest start to tighten. He stared into the red-orange flow and said what needed to be said. “I know this doesn’t seem possible, but I remember it clearly. I was barefoot when I tied that rope. I was cryin’, of course, and Riley licked my face. But sometime in the night, the warmest Christmas on record turned cold. A front dropped in from Canada. We figure Riley was thirsty from all that pie he ate. His rope was long enough to reach the pond. He must have broken through the ice. He managed to get out, but he was wet, and when the temperature dropped, he froze. He wasn’t made for the cold, like some Eskimo dog. He was just a mutt. And the best Christmas ever turned into the worst. I never forgave my dad. But worse, I don’t think he ever forgave himself.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  “WELL,” REMY EXCLAIMED, JUMPING to her feet the moment Jessie entered the waiting room. “No cast. That must mean it was a sprain, just like you said.”

  Jessie limped forward, nodding toward the nurses’ station where she’d already used her credit card to cover the co-pay. Specialists weren’t cheap, she decided. Nor did they know everything.

  “He said there were no visible breaks, but a couple of the tendons were extremely inflamed. There could be a tear. He wants to watch it closely over the next couple of weeks.” He also said if she didn’t postpone her training, she could wind up with permanent damage. “No running?”

  Jessie balanced on her good foot and tapped the rubber tips of her crutches together. “Not for a while. And I’m not supposed to drive a stick, either.”

  “No Yota?” Remy exclaimed. “Bummer.”

  Jessie shrugged as they started for the door. “I guess it’s not a huge deal. You’re here and you seem to have connected well with Shiloh. Apparently, I’m redundant.”

  She did her best not to sound jealous, but her sister gave her a look. “She’s a good kid. I like her. Yesterday just sorta happened.”

  “Yeah. I know. It’s okay. I feel a bit useless at the moment. Can’t work out. Can’t drive. You know me—a life of leisure is my idea of hell.”

  Remy didn’t say anything. In fact, she was silent the entire time it took them to walk to the Land Cruiser. Jessie waited until they were both seated before she asked, “What’s up? You’re too quiet. Did you hear from the Bullies?”

  “Yes, but that’s not the problem.”

  “So…what is?”

  “Cade walked Shiloh to the car this morning and he mentioned that his sister was looking for help.”

  “What kind of help?”

  “Her husband is opening a new dental clinic. It was supposed to be up and running a few months ago, but I guess his license got hung up or something. I don’t know, but he’s in a pinch right now, and Cade thought I might be interested.”

  “Are you?”

  Remy put the key in the ignition but didn’t turn it. “Yeah. Why not? I know you already paid the rent for the whole summer, but we still need groceries and gas. Bringing in a regular paycheck would be my contribution. Do you have a problem with that?”

  “What about Shiloh?”

  Remy smiled eagerly. “I could drop her at the bus stop on my way to work and you could pick her up in the afternoon. I haven’t discussed it with Cade, but I’m sure if he has a car with an automatic transmission, he’d let you use it.”

  She wants me to ask Cade to borrow his car? After the way I ambushed him in the pool yesterday?

  Not only had she borrowed Remy’s bikini instead of wearing her own sleeveless neoprene body suit, she’d shown him her scars then kissed him. Passionately.

  Technically, he’d kissed her first, but she’d taken it to the next level. And she’d liked it. Probably too much. She’d spent the rest of the day and most of the night worrying that she’d inadvertently become the kind of woman who didn’t feel complete unless she had some man following after her like a dog in heat. In other words, her mother.

  “Remy, do you think Mom was ever happy? I mean, really, truly happy?”

  Remy’s jaw gaped in a way that would have made their mother shake her head in dismay. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “I just wondered. We haven’t exactly talked about what happened.”

  Remy fastened her seat belt, then started the car. “Well, whose fault is that?”

  “I’m asking now. So, answer my question.”

  Remy turned to look over her shoulder as she backed up, slowly and carefully. She might get lost easily, but she was a very cautious driver. Jessie had to give her that.

  “I can’t. No one can. You know as well as anyone that Mama had her highs and lows. She’d be on top of the world when she first fell for a new beau. Things would be good for a few months, a year, maybe. Then…she’d lose interest. Or something he did would become an unbearable problem. Or—” she lowered her voice in a way that told Jessie how much it pained her to mention the fact they both knew “—the man’s wife would find out and the drama would begin.”

  Jessie never understood why their mother seemed to favor married men, but unfaithful rogues were the sort she picked. All too often.

  They drove in silence for a long while, but about a mile from the intersection that would take them back to the ranch, Remy pulled over. “Tell me what you want me to do,” she said, shifting in her seat to face Jessie. “If you need my help getting around or you don’t think I should take this job, say so. Otherwise, I’d like to buzz over to Sentinel Pass now and talk to Jack.”

  What could she say? No. Don’t leave me alone all day with our sexy, single landlord—the guy I’ve been fantasizing about since day one. Because if you’re not there to chaperone, I might start something for the simple reason that it would feel good. And I’m bored. And if that didn’t sound like something their mother would do, Jessie didn’t know what did.

  “Fine. Go get a job.”

  Remy snorted. “On that positive note…I think I will.” She stomped on the clutch but didn’t shift into gear straight off. “Unless you’re in pain. Is that why you’re so grouchy?”

  “I’m not in pain.”

  “Oh. So, you’re just grouchy because your middle name is Oscar.”

  Jessie stuck out her tongue, but she smiled, too. Remy had always been able to cajole her out of a dark and stormy mood—even when Jessie was in the hospital and Remy could speak to her only on the phone.

  TWO HOURS LATER, WHEN REMY was happily seated in front of Jessie’s computer, emailing her good news to the Bullies, Jessie slowly, carefully, strolled—sans crutches—to Cade’s. The orthopedist had cautioned her against rushing her recovery, but he’d added, “Most of the athletes I’ve worked with in the past are pretty intuitive about their body’s needs. Your ankle will tell you when you’ve done too much.”

  Jessie agreed. She wasn’t going to take undue risks but pushing the envelope was simply part of her nature.

  She tested the give and take of her calf muscles while she rang the bell. Still stiff.

  Cade answered the door, his surprise obvious. His
jeans were dusty and his light blue denim shirt had a couple of suspicious stains on it. Blood? “Jessie. Hi. You’re back. I just got off the phone with Kat. She said Remy’s going to work for Jack. Wow. That was fast.”

  “Yeah, I know. Can I come in?”

  “Of course. Sorry. I got called out early this morning to help deliver a foal. There’s a fresh pot of coffee brewing, if you’re interested.”

  “Sounds good. Thanks.”

  He opened the door and stepped back to give her room to enter. “Where are your sticks?”

  “At the house. I’m starting to wean myself off. A few minutes here. A few more tomorrow.”

  “That must mean your ankle isn’t broken. I’m glad.”

  From the front door to the kitchen island was probably no farther than the distance from her parking spot to her apartment door, but she was visibly limping by the time she sat. She stealthily dabbed at a trace of sweat above her upper lip when Cade’s back was turned.

  “So, when’s Remy going to start at Jack’s new office?”

  “Tomorrow. We were just there. It looks like the makings of a reality TV show—a combination of Hoarders and Extreme Makeover.”

  His low rumble of laughter did very pleasant things to her girl parts. Very pleasant. And watching him move around the kitchen with surprising grace for a guy in cowboy boots was a bonus. The man did have a great butt.

  He set a big ceramic mug in front of her. “Poor Kat has been spread too thin trying to do everything.”

  She picked up the cup but didn’t drink from it right away. “You do realize Remy will need to use my car to drive to Sentinel Pass every day, right? Jack’s flexible about what time she gets there, so she figures she can drop Shiloh at the bus stop. But I’ll have to borrow a car in the afternoon to pick Shiloh up.”

  He carried his mug to the stool beside hers. “No problem. Buck’s truck is in the garage.”

  “Is it an automatic, I hope?”

  He leaned around her stool to look at her foot. “Is a clutch off-limits?”

  She nodded.