For too long, people looked at Jacob and saw what they wanted to see. A rancher working for the enemy, a leader who walked away from the council, a man hiding behind a mask.
But not her. When she leveled those gray-blue eyes at him, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she saw him in a way that no one but Susan ever had. Not that she didn’t wonder about the mask, about the working for the enemy, about his place in the tribe and even about Kip, but somehow, it seemed she could see past that. It was the same when she looked at Kip after school. No one else could get past the silent-albino thing, but Mary Beth seemed to be looking deeper.
And none of it seemed to scare her off. She kept coming back for more.
Some days, when Mary Beth was in fine form, he thought that mouth of hers was the most attractive thing about her. No matter what the situation—breech cows or surly cowboys—she always had some lethally smart-ass comment flying out, half the time before even she knew what she was saying.
If he didn’t want her so bad, it would be so much easier. But he couldn’t look at her without thinking about red silk bras or the taste of her lips or the way she screamed—actually screamed—in pleasure at his touch. His touch.
He’d certainly never done that for Susan, although not for lack of trying. Undoubtedly though, Susan’s patient instructions had finally paid off, so many years after he’d given up.
And those were the thoughts that haunted him into the deepest parts of the night. He’d convinced himself that he could live without a woman because his destiny was to keep Kip—and the land—safe. That was what Henry had interpreted his made-up vision to mean a dozen or so years ago. Jacob was a guardian, a caretaker of the land and the tribe. And, as that fit with the role his grandfather had prepared him for anyway, Jacob accepted it, grateful that no one had figured out he was faking it.
But now? Now he wasn’t so sure. He still had to protect Kip and his people’s lands, but he wasn’t sure he could do it alone anymore.
He wasn’t sure he wanted to.
He could try calling Rebel again. Except that Rebel would probably want him to go to a sweat lodge, and Jacob didn’t have time to sit around and sweat just for the hell of it. But Jacob was also pretty sure that Rebel was much smoother with the female sex than Jacob would ever be. Maybe, even if visions weren’t involved, Rebel would know what to do about Mary Beth. But any conversation that started with Mary Beth would end with Kip, and that time hadn’t come yet, because she wasn’t safe yet.
No, he was pretty much on his own about this. And the loneliness never felt keener than it did when he was around her. And every morning she slid out of that truck and shot him a look that said, What’s it gonna be? Well, it just got that much harder.
He struggled.
He struggled with the urge to touch that skin that he knew was off-limits. He struggled to come up with the right things to say in front of the ranch hands that wouldn’t raise their eyebrows but also wouldn’t piss her off. He struggled against the comforting silence that he knew would definitely piss her off.
It was a fine line between holding her at arm’s length and just holding her.
Thank God, she came with Bill most days, what with her arm still in the sling. With Bill around, there was a constant buffer, a steady stream of patter about Leslie packing, Leslie shipping furniture to the new house their son had picked out for them in Tampa, Leslie buying Christmas presents for the grandkids. With Bill filling any silent void, Jacob didn’t feel the pressure to either talk or not to her.
Most days, Jacob could have hugged the older man for saving him from himself.
But she healed. Within a month, she was out there alone again, riding out to check on the newborn foals at his barn or carefully preg-checking the cows.
Jacob had to hand it to her, she made it as easy on him as she could—at least when anyone was around. She asked him direct questions, her eyebrow only arched a little bit.
But the time came that they headed out on the range alone. The hired hands had already headed out to round up the cattle they’d be working. It was just him and her for about forty minutes of riding.
Jacob panicked so hard he thought he might have to put his head between his legs as he broke out in a cold sweat.
“I’d ask how you’re doing, but you look like you’re going to pass out,” she said simply as they trotted away from the ranch.
He took a deep breath. “I’m working on not being a jerk.”
“Good. Good start. That was a whole sentence. Perhaps you should also consider breathing on a more regular basis as well, unless you aren’t up to multitasking today,” she said as she kept an eye on the trees—and pointedly not him.
“No,” he smiled, relieved she was still normal, even if he felt anything but, “you’re right. Breathing is good.”
“One of my favorites. Good old air. Can’t go wrong.”
Jacob wasn’t sure what to say next, so he kept his mouth shut.
Finally, she tilted her head at him. “Do you need help?”
“Help?”
“With what comes next. That’s not your strong suit, that whole talking thing.”
“Oh.” He blushed, thankful that at least the mask covered half his face. “Um, what do you recommend?”
“Well, most people start with, ‘How are you,’ and occasionally, ‘How are things going.’ More advanced conversationalists will remember something from the last meeting and ask about that.”
“I’m not very advanced.”
“That I can see,” she giggled at him, and again, he was back in high school, clueless about girls. “Here, I’ll help. So, Jacob,” she said, her voice artificially bright, “how are things going out at the barn? I know you were having a problem with bots in some of the horses.”
“Um, fine.”
“No,” she scolded. “The correct answer was, ‘Fine. Dave’s had Lisa and the boys out doing checks after school. You know, they really liked your chocolate chip cookies.’”
He turned to stare at her. “That was the right answer?”
“Yes,” she snipped in mock irritation—at least he hoped it was mock irritation. “You are supposed to remember something nice about me and work it into the conversation.”
“Hmm. So, I could say, ‘Fine. Alex has a crush on you’ and that would be okay?”
She went bright pink. “Alex has a crush on me?”
“You didn’t notice? He follows you around like a puppy dog,” he grinned. “He’s in love.”
“Okay, first, not too bad, if a bit of a sudden gear shift and second, Alex isn’t the only one.”
Jacob’s mouth dropped open. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he finally stuttered out, sounding more foolish than he cared to.
She pulled Sue—not as steady as Jezebel, but still a good horse—up next to Mick. “Jacob,” she whispered, her voice low and confidential and all the sexier. “Just relax. I’m not going to tell anyone, okay? No one will know. No one has to.”
Before his brain could stop his hand, he reached over and cupped her face, rubbing her cheek with his thumb. By the time he realized what he’d done, she’d already closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, just like she belonged there.
And he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay away from her, not even if he wanted to. Something in her face—the gentle curve of her lips, the way her cheek fit perfectly in his hand, just like the rest of her had—it was something he knew he wouldn’t be able to live without. He wouldn’t fight it anymore.
“See?” She sighed as he reluctantly pulled away. “That wasn’t so bad. Probably only hurt a little bit.”
Embarrassed, he barely smiled. “That was okay? Didn’t break rule number one?”
“Well, it did come close.” She grinned. “But I’ll allow it.” And she kicked Sue away from him, towards the horses and their bots.
“Right. You’ll allow it.” Man, this was going to be harder than he thought.
But it wasn’t. Mary Beth was so mu
ch better at this than he was, and once he relaxed and followed her lead, it got a lot easier. She didn’t mind if he was quiet around the hands, but she expected him to talk and flirt when they were alone.
And the more they were alone, the more he couldn’t help but touch her. He discovered he liked to ride up to her, trail his hand down her arm or her leg to make her lose all focus as she got that dreamy, lovesick look about her.
He wanted to kiss her again, even if it was just her cheek, but he was pretty sure that would break rule number one. Still, every time she touched him—even the time she slapped his arm to get his attention while she was elbow-deep in a mare—the urge to taste her only got stronger.
“Are you ever going to ask me out?” she asked out of the blue one afternoon as they rode back from the mustangs, a light snow starting to drift past them. He was riding right next to her, occasionally reaching out to graze her shoulder with his gloved hand.
The momentary panic froze him for a second, but she tilted her head to the side, and the teenage part of his brain remembered that when a girl tilted her head like that she wanted you to kiss her. But he wasn’t sure, so he stalled. “It’s a free country. You could ask me out too, you know.”
“Pshht. I wouldn’t have the first idea what to do on a date in greater Faith Ridge.”
“Not much, especially in the winter,” he admitted. “Maybe this spring, after the snows melt, we can go to Rapid City,” he casually offered.
“Super,” she snipped, “I’ll mark my calendar now.” But she tilted her chin a little more to the side and looked at his mouth.
Okay, that was it.
Jacob circled Mick back around and pulled up until their legs were touching. Sue shifted nervously at the close contact, but he didn’t care either way. He grabbed the reins and hauled her horse over to him, then grabbed a surprised Mary Beth by the coat and kissed her.
It was the sweetest kiss he could ever remember as she lightly parted her lips for him and leaned into him. Heaven help him, she really did taste like strawberries in the sun.
But then she pulled back, her eyes flashing with a mix of desire and irritation. “Jesus, Jacob,” she hissed when he let her go. “You’re breaking rule number one.”
“Oh, I intend to satisfy,” he said with a grin as he spun away from her, reveling in the erotically stunned look on her face. Clearly, the first time hadn’t been dumb luck.
“Before spring?” she shouted at his back.
His only response was the faint shrug.
He knew it’d drive her nuts.
Chapter Nine
The first snow came in late October. The meteorologist on the Rapid City station her TV could barely pick up said it was going to snow for three or four days straight.
“Looks like we got a blizzard on our hands, folks.” He’d beamed into the camera like an unusually early snowstorm was a fabulous thing.
“Great,” she mumbled. “Remind me to thank global warming personally.” Bill wasn’t about to come out in this kind of weather—he barely made it to the office most days of the week now that her arm had healed—and she was supposed to head up to the ranch tomorrow. “No idea how that’s supposed to work,” she fumed at the perky anchorwoman listing the advance school closings.
The phone rang, causing her to jump.
“Mary Beth?” an older voice crackled over the line.
“Hey, Bill. I heard we had a blizzard coming.”
“Jacob called. He said a few buffalo wandered onto the ranch, but he didn’t see why you had to come out tomorrow in this weather. Said everything would keep.”
Oh, how nice. Like he couldn’t pick up the phone and call me himself. What is wrong with that man sometimes? Silently, she fumed while she tried to sound normal. “So what should I do tomorrow?”
“If you can make it to the office, that’s fine. Take a book. Might be a slow day,” he chuckled.
“Sure. Can do. You and Leslie stay warm, okay? Tell her I said Tampa’s calling her name.” Mary Beth smiled.
“Trust me, she hears it,” he replied before he hung up.
Slow day at the office. Mary Beth stood in front of the bookshelf, wavering between studying the new buffalo manual and that new romance she’d gotten, The Trouble with Cowboys.
“No contest.” She sighed. “Cowboys win every time.”
She finished her romance before lunch, with the heavy flakes already piling up outside. Fran left as soon as it started to stick, and Mary Beth was alone. Again.
She inventoried the stockroom, wrote lists of supplies they’d need throughout the winter and browsed the catalogs. She reorganized her desk, and then did it again. Finally, with nothing else to do, she bundled up and grabbed a shovel.
The wind was biting as she tried to clear the steps to the Ram, whipping the snow into her face and back across the walkway. At least her new duster kept her legs warmer than her barn coat would have.
“Well, hell,” she muttered as she tried to make it back into the office, the drifts already covering her footprints. By the time she got back inside, it was four.
“Quitting time.” She grabbed her pack and trudged back out to the truck.
The café was empty. “Hey, Mary Beth, don’t you know there’s a blizzard out there?” Robin said as she got the tea ready.
“I’m going to be stuck in that little house for the next few days. Thought I’d come hang out with you before it got too nasty,” she explained.
“Right. No need to get cabin fever on the first day.” Robin nodded. “Hey, good news.”
“Oh? Gonna stop snowing?”
“Nope.” Robin beamed, the light catching the glitter in her eye shadow. “I mailed my applications in.”
“You did?”
“Yup. Ronny told me that I had to go, so I wanted to make sure I got on the list for next fall early.”
“Ronny!” Mary Beth hollered back to the unusually quiet kitchen.
The big man popped his baseball-cap-covered head out. “Yeah?”
“I love you!”
Ronny was very much a big brother to all his regulars. Even if he hadn’t been steadily dating a schoolteacher at the consolidated high school on the rez for over a year, Mary Beth was quite certain there still wouldn’t have been anything between them.
“Oh, she told you about the college?” He shyly grinned. “She better go, or I’m going to tell Mike Nolan about the time she—”
“Stop right there!” Robin screeched as she raced back to tackle him. “Don’t you dare!”
Mary Beth chuckled at the two of them, Robin chasing him around the kitchen with a pair of tongs. “While you’re back there, bring me a hamburger!” she yelled over the melee as she flipped on the TV.
Ronny got better reception than she did. The grinning meteorologist looked like a semi-real person instead of a fuzzy ghost on the screen. But the news wasn’t good. He was calling for several feet of snow well into next week. “But it should all melt by next Friday,” he gushed to the plastic-looking anchorwoman who reacted like he’d given her diamonds instead of storm warnings.
She sighed as she fished the ketchup out from behind the bar. “I hope everything can keep up at the ranch, because I don’t have any idea how to get there.”
Robin brought out dinner for both of them and plunked down on the stool next to Mary Beth. “Did it snow like this where you’re from?”
“Not in multiple feet. We had 13 inches one December.”
“Both Mikey and Ronny have snowmobiles, so if you need to get out, just call.”
“Lord,” she muttered, knowing full well Robin would be spending her blizzard with Mike Nolan. She’d have someone to chase the cold away. All Mary Beth had was an extra blanket. But rather than get Robin started on the subject of Jacob again, she feigned mild terror. “Snowmobiles? Can’t wait.”
“Chicken.” Robin giggled.
Mary Beth glanced over Robin’s poufy bangs. Across the street outside, the door to the schoolhouse was
open, and she could just make out the shapes of Mrs. Browne and Kip against the interior light.
“Jacob’s going to make it to get Kip, isn’t he?”
“He always does.” It was hard to understand Robin with her mouth full of fries, but Mary Beth caught the gist. “Why, is she out there?”
Mary Beth nodded as she got up and walked to the door. But by the time she got there, Mrs. Browne and Kip had gone back inside.
“It’s just the weather. He’ll make it.” Robin shrugged as she flipped the channel to The Simpsons.
But as the wind buffeted the snow against the small buildings, Mary Beth wasn’t so sure.
Fifteen minutes later, the door to the schoolhouse opened again, the only light on the dark street spilling out and being swallowed by the snow.
“Okay, he’s not here,” she said to Robin as she hurried into her coat.
“He’ll be here.”
“But he’s not here now,” she said as she shoved the door open against the wind and waded across the river of snow that used to be a street to the school house.
“Mrs. Browne? Is everything all right?” Mary Beth shouted into the wind as she slogged her way through the snow.
“Dr. Hofstetter, is it?” Even in the middle of a blizzard, her voice was crisp and authoritative.
“Yes. It’s nice to officially meet you,” she replied as she offered a gloved hand to the older woman.
“Have you seen Jacob?” she asked, unmoved as a wind gust blew snow into their faces.
“Not today.”
Mrs. Browne looked down the dark street again. “Come in from the cold, dear,” she said, although Mary Beth couldn’t tell if she was talking to her or Kip.
Mary Beth followed the two of them into the schoolhouse. It was a small building with a row of cubbies lining the entryway. Robin said there were only twenty or thirty students—up to grade eight—Mary Beth recalled as she looked into the single room filled with large and small desks. On the other side of the hall was what appeared to be a cafeteria with the tables pushed against the wall to clear the floor for the basketball hoop in the corner.
Masked Cowboy (Men of the White Sandy) Page 11