by Celia Jerome
“Don’t be liking him too much, darlin’, or I’ll be jealous.”
I laughed. “Of Louisa’s husband? He’d never look at another woman. Not that I wish he would, of course. Should I call and see if he’s available to meet with you? We could go right now.”
“Whoa, lady. First I’ve got to spend time with the horses. Then I’ve got to talk to my accountant, my agent, and my family so they don’t worry. Maybe answer some fan mail I’ve been putting off. I have a lot to do, too.”
I knew he was making fun of me, but I didn’t care. He was thinking of staying! “But you’ll talk to Dante tomorrow?”
“Sure. Maybe he’ll know the local laws about putting a live-in trailer on the property while everything there now is being torn down and rebuilt. Stables come first, but the hired hands would need a place to stay. I don’t think you’ll have enough horsemen in the area, so I’ll have to bring in some. I wouldn’t put a dog in that bunkhouse.”
I rubbed Red’s ear the way he liked. “Not one of mine, for sure.”
“And maybe your friend will know if I can put goats there. Some cities have ordinances about farm animals.”
“Goats? I thought you rescued horses?”
“I do, and people. I’d start with goats to crop the fields, and set up a cottage industry making goat cheese. That’s what we did in Texas and on the reservation, too. Goat cheese is a delicacy nowadays, perfect for your tony summer folk. And it makes jobs for people who need them.”
“The town fathers will love that. And Grandma can sell it at the farm stand.” I was so excited I hugged him, just what I intended not to do. Just what I wanted to do. He hugged me back.
“Don’t go getting ahead of yourself, sweet pea. The cost might be too high, the laws too restrictive. And that land might be contaminated. Who knows what Sinese did to it?”
“It’ll be fine, I know it! I can almost see horses galloping over smooth grassy hills already.”
He smiled, that wonderful slow grin that I could watch forever, like a gorgeous sunset. “Clairvoyant, are you?”
I grinned back. “No, just hopeful that you’ll stay.”
The words wiped his smile away. “I can’t exactly stay here, darlin’. You know that. An operation like Bayview needs more money than I have. I’ll be out earning my bread every chance I get. And then there’s the Texas place and the reservation. A lot of horses depend on me. A lot of people, too.”
“I see.” I guess I did, because sometimes I felt like I had the whole of Paumanok Harbor resting on my shoulders. I dropped my arms from around him.
Ty rubbed my cheek with the back of his hand. “But I’ll be back as often as I can manage. Every chance I have.”
“For what?”
“For the horses, for the people I am responsible for, and for you. I’ll take whatever crumbs you give me, panting after you like that silly dog of yours.”
Who bites sometimes.
I needed a nap. Then I needed a walk on the beach, a dish of ice cream, a little computer time, a little work time. What I didn’t need was the roller coaster ride of Tyler Farraday.
He was everything a woman wanted in a man: supportive, caring, honorable, sweet and funny, and a great lover. I might be sore from unused muscles, but I knew I’d want him again as soon as he got back. But he’d be gone. Not today or tomorrow, but he’d be gone soon. I kept reminding myself of that before I got too involved, if I wasn’t already in way over my head. Right now I had to concentrate on the town and H’tah, not some here-today, gone-tomorrow Texan.
I already missed him.
I called both my parents and tried not to feel disloyal for being glad neither one picked up. I didn’t need more warnings or more nagging.
I made a tentative date to meet with Louisa and Dante tomorrow morning. Louisa wanted to know what the devil was going on with the Harbor and with the devilishly handsome cowboy, but all I could tell her was that I hoped to know more by the time I saw her.
“No, I don’t think you should take the kids and go to your mother’s.” She got along with her mother about as well as I got on with mine. “You weren’t bothered by anything last night, were you?”
“You mean other than heartburn and needing to pee every other hour and never finding a comfortable position for sleeping? Oh, and both kids wanting to sleep in the bed with us? No, nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Then you’ll be fine tonight.”
Susan went off to work at the restaurant, and Grandma and Doc got back from town looking tired but satisfied with what they’d accomplished. They had a few extra strings of lights, so I hung them up for them.
Mine must be the only dark house for miles, but I left it that way, just in case.
When I got back from the herb farm, I had three messages.
My mother was bringing two greyhounds home with her, because no one wanted a pair and they loved each other. I should buy two more big dog beds from Agway, but I had at least a week or two before she got here.
Check.
Dad told me to get flea shampoo while I was getting the beds.
Check.
“Oh, and watch out for a mate, baby girl.”
A mate? That was usually my mother’s line, that I was getting old and she wanted grandchildren. I guess her nagging had finally worn off on my father. I erased the message.
Ty was coming over, but after dark. He was going to try to attract the night mares once more.
Check. Wash hair, shower, shave legs. Check.
I wasn’t going to sit outside again.
I wasn’t going to make love with him again. Forget about shaving my legs.
I couldn’t do it. Not if I wanted to preserve my sanity. I wasn’t like Susan.
Casual sex wasn’t enough for me, no matter how many fireworks exploded. It was exciting while it lasted, but it caused too much regret later. Like taking home all the rest of Susan’s brownies. I loved them and I could eat every last one of them for dinner, knowing damn well how bad they were for my health and my hips. I’d hate myself in the morning. That was how I felt about sex without affection.
I guess love wasn’t for me either.
Check.
CHAPTER 27
TY DIDN’T COME UNTIL AFTER TEN. He’d fallen asleep, and Cousin Lily didn’t want to wake him.
I had his sofa ready in the backyard with blankets, brownies, and a bottle of beer. Not an epicurean combination, but stuff to get him through the night. I couldn’t get through the first hour, sitting next to him. Actually, sitting on his lap, with his shoulder as my pillow, the chant vibrating though the night, through my blood.
It was mesmerizing. If I were a magic mare, I’d stop by just to see who was making such entrancing music. I found it so soothing, I had a hard time keeping my eyes open. I kept yawning.
“Go to bed, Willow. You’ve had no rest. I doubt the mares will come, or that you’ll have any bad dreams. I want to stay out a few hours more just to be sure.”
So I didn’t have to say no about sharing his bed or mine tonight. Willpower was a great thing, if you didn’t have to call on it.
I made my way upstairs with the tiny flashlight I had, and put the dogs out in their pen in front of the house. I washed up and changed to a nightshirt in the closed bathroom so no light shone through, then fetched the dogs in, gave the big dogs their good night treats downstairs, and climbed into bed with Little Red and his biscuit.
I lay there, listening to the chant and the crickets, and firmly closing my mind to thoughts of Ty. I had a new drawing of H’tah taped to the headboard right over my pillow, the colt with a willow tree shading him from danger. He was standing, outdoors and free.
Tell me you’re okay, baby, I begged silently. I hope you’re with your mama, but if you can, let me know.
Like asking a kid to send postcards home from camp. On Mars.
Little Red ate his cookie, circled around, then settled down next to my feet. Half asleep, I wondered what he dreamed about . . . run
ning free on four legs? Or a rare steak with ice cream on the side?
Did horses dream? Sweet dreams, H’tah. Don’t think about the awful time at the ranch.
Then all I could think about was the ranch. Snake and snakes and—No, I’d never get to sleep that way. Much better to think about Ty buying it, cleaning it, putting his horses on it. And his goats.
There was something reassuring about goats. Silly creatures, eating everything, maa-ing, climbing, butting heads with each other. Could Ty talk to them? I listened to his voice through the open window. My breathing fell into the cadence. My mind fell into sweet downy cloud oblivion.
I dreamed, but not the way I wanted. H’tah wasn’t in it at all, but Ty was. My sleeping self smiled. I wanted that, too.
So did the dream Ty. He undressed, climbed into my bed, and did the disappearing act with my nightshirt.
A person had no control over her dreams, right? So I didn’t have to tell him to leave. Good.
He was running his strong hands over my bare skin. Better.
Then he parted my thighs, his hand reaching lower. He parted my folds. I felt that glow in my belly, the word that I, writer that I was, could not give a name. Just a feeling, a heat, a happy place inside ready to get happier. Sometimes it never got better than this, but Ty wasn’t going to disappoint, not in my dream.
Then I was lost to the rhythm of his fingers, his chant, his heartbeat. This was the best dream I ever—
This was no dream. I felt the scratch of his new stubble on skin that was barely healed from yesterday.
“What the . . . ?”
“It’s almost dawn. I came to kiss you good night and tell you I was leaving. You smiled at me.”
“I was dreaming!”
“Are you complaining?”
With his hand still tangled in my curls, still moving over the most sensitive spot? “Uh, where is Little Red?”
“On the floor, with a marrow bone from Miss Lily.”
That was okay, then. Until Ty leaned over to kiss me.
I turned my head. “Don’t. Morning breath.”
“Then I guess I should kiss you here.” His lips were on my neck, then my breast, bringing the peaks to attention, one and then the other.
“Or here.” Now he licked a path down my ribs to my belly, tucking his tongue into my navel.
“Or here.” His mouth replaced his fingers.
What came after best? I did, three times.
Ty left early, before Susan was up, thank goodness. I didn’t need her snarky comments or her tattling to Grandma. I was a grown woman, but I hated people knowing my business. They’d snicker when he left, or pity me. That was worse.
I stayed in bed as long as I could before the dogs started whining. Little Red’s stomach was gurgling, never a good sign.
Then the phone started ringing, both the land line and my cell, which I had to locate before I could answer.
The chief, Aunt Jasmine, and Kelvin all wanted me to know that they’d pulled Joe the Plumber’s van out of the bay this morning. Joe was pulling through, too. He’d be home in a few days. But the real news was that the divers who swam down to hook the van to Kelvin’s wrecker found another car in the water: Snake’s pickup. Joe’s skid marks had hidden the pickup’s, so it might have stayed submerged for ages.
The divers kept searching, with reinforcements from the DEA, but they found no drugs, no passenger, no white horse. The labs were checking the truck for fingerprints, residue, anything that could identify the driver, who might or might not be Snake’s killer. They hadn’t had any luck so far, nor at the ranch. Speculation was he—or they—needed the truck to transport the drugs from Snake’s well, then they ditched it before anyone noticed someone other than its owner at the wheel. That old rust bucket was too easily recognized in the area, or on a highway if the police started searching.
The dope was likely already giving yuppies something to do with their free time. Which reminded me of the group rental at Tern Street, the house with all the surfboards and beer bottles. Those guys looked as if they’d know who sold recreational drugs around town. Maybe the chief could trade information for ignorance about their own illegal possession. Or maybe he could beat it out of them, not that Uncle Henry was a violent type, but he’d been without sleep for days, too. At this point, I didn’t care what happened to the surfer dudes or Snake’s murderer.
If the man had hurt H’tah, had chucked him in the water along with the truck, then he deserved to spend the rest of his hopefully short life in jail. If he’d taken the colt out of range of the mares or my dreams, I hoped his life was long and miserable and his dick fell off.
With that thought in mind, I called the chief. Then I called Ty to give him the news about the truck—and to hear his voice—and to confirm our appointment with Dante and Louisa.
Before meeting with them, he wanted to get a copy of the ranch’s land survey so that he knew what he was dealing with.
We had time to drive to the town hall in East Hampton. As an incorporated village within the township, Paumanok Harbor had its own government, police force, and taxes, but it was still part of the larger territory that included the whole East End, from Wainscott to Montauk. The wider township had a town board, planning department, zoning code—and another tax collector.
We stopped in Amagansett for muffins that weren’t as good as Susan’s. Cousin Lily had already fed Ty bacon and eggs, so he only ate two. I couldn’t imagine how he stayed so slim, but I checked the rear view when we got to the municipal building on Montauk Highway. Yup, those jeans fit perfectly, and yup, not an ounce of fat or jiggle. I almost tripped over a crack in the pavement on our way in, watching. I wasn’t alone. Two middle-aged women bumped into each other, and a teenager holding a traffic ticket swallowed her chewing gum. It wasn’t every day a real cowboy in high boots and a Stetson hat—this one made of straw—ambled down the street. Not even in East Hampton.
I admired that amble again, then had to speed up when Ty opened the door to the offices and stood there, waiting.
Ty got the map, for a fee. I got a lecture about calling ahead. Without taking her eyes off Ty, the clerk, a woman older than my mother, asked me about the Harbor.
“You’re Willow Tate, aren’t you? Eve Garland’s granddaughter? Is it true someone put something in your air that has everyone hallucinating and shooting each other? Or maybe a virus? I won’t let my kid go bowling there this week.”
“That’s good ’cause the bowling alley is shut down. But everything is under control now. Mr. Farraday is helping.”
“I bet he is. I bet he is.”
Ty winked at her, said “Thank you, ma’am,” and took my arm before I tossed a stack of clamming permits at her.
To get my mind off what I acknowledged as nothing more than jealousy, possessiveness, with a bit of hometown pride mixed in, I tried to explain to Ty about the scattering of unfinished antique farm cottages and barns out in front of the modern, institutional, utilitarian town building.
I had a hard time with that, since it made no sense to me or anyone who had to pay taxes to the town. I knew the historic buildings were donated to preserve them, but on the town hall lawn?
While we were in East Hampton Village, we stopped to get Ty an overpriced burger. I had a salad.
The women on the street all looked at Ty, but he looked in the shop windows, deluxe this and diamond that. “Toto, this sure ain’t Kansas anymore.”
Which about summed up the Hamptons.
Ty dropped me off home, so I could get my car to do errands. When I drove through town, Paumanok Harbor’s shopping area looked good, especially with the shiny new glass windows in all the storefronts. We met up with Louisa and Dante at her office in the arts building. Her kids were next door at play group at the community center.
After an initial bit of gauging each other’s worth, Ty and Dante settled into an easy relationship. They were both such alpha males, so sure of themselves and their place in the world that they d
idn’t have to kick dirt behind them or try to piss higher on a hydrant to prove who was top dog.
Dante was thrilled Ty was interested in the ranch. He’d been working to finance a deal with the owners to let the village keep it as open space, but money was tight these days. Ty’s idea was far better, especially if it was going to hire local builders, local stable workers, and even give local kids a chance to earn some money for college while learning the value of hard work. He’d already investigated Ty’s nonprofit horse rescue foundation, right down to the price of hay, if I knew Dante. Knowing his expertise at the computer, and his geek friends across the Ethernet, I wouldn’t be surprised if he knew Ty’s personal value, too.
He loved the goat cheese idea. More jobs, maybe making the ranch self-sustainable. Dante was prepared to help in any way he could.
“In fact,” he told Ty, “I think I can work out a deal where you can have the land in a long-term lease, say a hundred years, without having to buy it or take out a killer mortgage, if you take care of the structures you’ll need to build and agree to keep it agricultural in nature.”
“For how much a year?” Ty wanted to know. The property was worth millions. I had no idea how much he was worth.
Dante smiled, showing dimples. “How’s a hundred dollars a year? And any income is tax-free.”
Ty sat back. “You can swing that kind of deal?”
“I know Mr. Scowcroft, the former owner. He’d lower the price considerably just to have horses on the hill again. And he likes me.”
“Don’t tell me you used to date his daughter, too,” Louisa said.
“He likes me because I didn’t date his daughter.”
Louisa and I laughed, then had to explain to Ty about Dante’s bad-boy reputation. Before his marriage, of course.
Ty got serious again. “So no property taxes because the land is in public hands. No income tax because it’s nonprofit.”
“There’d be school tax on the housing, and taxes for the fire department and the library, but our rates are still manageable. And I can get you good numbers on a loan for the buildings.”