by Carol Grace
“Now, hold on tight. Like this.” He wrapped his hands around hers, molding her left hand around the handle, the right around the leather strip.
She prayed he wouldn’t notice how damp her palms were and how her fingers trembled. Or if he did, that he’d chalk it up to learning a new skill. That’s all it was. Just nerves. Just wanting to succeed. Just wanting to lean back against him, feel his arms tighten around her, close her eyes and forget all about the slingshot. But she couldn’t They were waiting, both of them. Waiting to see her do it
“Pebble,” Josh said.
Max handed him a pebble.
“Insert pebble,” he ordered, his warm breath ruffling her hair.
“How am I supposed to do that?” she asked. “I’d need a third hand.”
“Here,” he said and inserted the pebble in the leather strip for her. “Now aim. Get the target centered between the two prongs of the slingshot. Got it?”
“Yes,” she said. At that point she would have agreed to anything.
“Shoot.”
She shot. The pebble hit the can. She exhaled softly. “Beginner’s luck,” she said.
Max laughed with joy and jumped into the air. Then he ran to gather new pebbles.
“Was that so hard?” Josh asked. His lips brushed her ear. The pebble had been lanced, had hit its target, but his arms were still wrapped around her.
“Nothing to it,” she said under her breath, wishing she could stay there forever, or at least a few more minutes. She’d never felt so safe, so secure and yet so scared in her life. Scared that she might get to like this—being held, being a part of a family; shooting at targets in the evening as dusk fell over the fields and the sun set behind the hill, the same hill where she’d first seen him outlined against the clear blue Nevada sky; then going back into the house for coffee as the lights went on inside and night settled around the house.
But she wasn’t going back in the house. Not for coffee, not for anything. She hadn’t been invited. She didn’t belong there. They were a family, and she was not part of it. She didn’t want to be. She was happy being on her own. Lucky for her, because she had terrible judgment when it came to men. Witness her close encounter with Scott. Kate told her he was no good. Others told her the same thing. Here in Nevada she was on her own. Nobody to tell her who was Mr. Right For Her and who wasn’t. She had to rely on her own judgment. Which was faulty.
She knew she should break out of his arms and leave, but she didn’t. Not when she fit there so well. Aware of every muscle and bone in his body. Aware of every breath he took. Aware of his chin resting on top of her head. Watching the sun set in the west. Wanting it to go on forever. But it didn’t. Max came running up with a handful of pebbles and she gave a guilty start.
The boy shot them both a curious look. “You can let go of her now, Dad. She hit the target. Didja see it?”
“I saw it,” he said, dropping his arms slowly so that his hands brushed her supersensitive skin.
She stumbled forward, as if she’d just been released from a hospital bed. She took a few steps toward the driveway. Toward her car and toward safety.
“I think I’ll quit while I’m ahead,” she explained to both of them with a weak smile. Max looked disappointed, Josh looked relieved, and she had no idea how she looked. She knew how she felt, though. Shaky, confused and embarrassed. First she’d stayed for dinner, to Josh’s dismay, then she’d got lost in his embrace, which wasn’t an embrace at all.
Bridget drove back to town. If her pictures were half as good as she thought they were, the Wild Mustang people would be ecstatic and start throwing money at the project. She and Kate could put furniture in their office, order stationery, light fixtures. And all thanks to Josh Gentry.
That night she loaded all her pictures to her laptop and thanks to the wifi connection she sent the file to Kate with instructions to let her know the instant she got any feedback. The next morning she went to the Laundromat instead of sitting there waiting to hear what they thought. After she put her clothes in the washing machine she sat down to watch the people walk down Main Street. So that’s what it was like to live in Harmony, Nevada, she thought Yesterday she thought it was colorful and picturesque. Today it was tedious and boring. Could it have anything to do with Josh Gentry? Yesterday she’d been with him, today she was alone.
She’d better get used to being alone, because he didn’t want her hanging around every day, and she didn’t know anyone else in town. She watched enviously as two women about her age passed the Laundromat window, laughing and talking. One was tall, very pretty with long, dark hair. The other was a cute little blond, the kind who was probably a cheerleader in high school. They glanced in at Bridget as they passed, and she smiled wistfully, wishing she knew someone to talk to, to share gossip, to confide in. She desperately needed a friend. Someone to tell her she wasn’t crazy to have a crush on a man she scarcely knew.
In a minute the two women came back by the window, stopped for a moment, then entered.
“Excuse me,” the little blond said, “are you...you’re not the woman from the ad agency who’s going to turn Josh Gentry into a sex symbol, are you?”
“I am from an ad agency, but I don’t know about turning him into a...a...” What was wrong with her, why couldn’t she say the word?
“Don’t listen to her,” the tall, pretty woman said. “The word is he’s going to be the star of a commercial you’re making.”
“That’s true. At least that’s the plan.” Bridget was so desperate for some companionship, she stuck out her hand and introduced herself, something she never would have done with strangers in a Laundromat in San Francisco. She learned the tall woman was Tally and her friend was Suzy.
“Why don’t we go somewhere and talk?” Suzy said. “How about coffee at the diner?”
Bridget threw her clothes into a dryer and joined the other women for a short walk down Main Street.
“So tell us all about life in San Francisco,” Suzy said.
“How did you know... ?”
“Word travels fast in a small town. My mother saw Josh’s mother at church, and that’s how I heard.”
“I see. Well, it’s not very different from life here,” Bridget said. “I go to work. I go to the Laundromat. Have coffee with friends.” Tally held the door open for her and the three of them took a booth in the corner.
“I’ll bet you don’t live in a rented room on Main Street. I’ll bet you have one of those old Victorians, what do they call them, painted ladies?” Tally said.
“I wish I did. I live in an ordinary apartment. It does have a nice view of the bridge and the bay, but other than that it’s nothing special. Tell me about yourselves. Are you natives?” Bridget asked.
“Harmony born and bred, both of us,” Tally said. “Lived here all our lives. Graduated from Harmony High School with Josh.”
“And Molly,” Suzy added.
“What was she like?” Bridget asked quickly before she lost her nerve. It was none of her business, but she’d been curious about Josh’s wife since she saw her picture on the mantel in the living room of the ranch house. This might be her only chance to find out about her. She certainly couldn’t ask Josh. “Were you good friends?”
“We were friends,” Tally said. “But not good friends. Molly didn’t have any close girlfriends. She didn’t need any. She had Josh. And she was...how shall I say this—”
“She was perfect,” Suzy said. “She sewed all her own clothes, Max’s too, knit sweaters for Josh, grew all their vegetables and put up enough for winter. Whenever there was an emergency, she was there. You could count on her to help deliver a baby or a calf. That’s the kind of person she was. Wasn’t she, Tally?”
“Too good to be true,” Tally murmured. “I must admit I was jealous of her sometimes. Especially that night after the senior prom when we all went to the beach. It seemed to me she had everything I wanted—a family, a ranch, horses, and a boyfriend who was crazy about her. She an
d Josh were the perfect couple. She was the prom princess. He was captain of the football team and class president. I was nothing. Not that she made me feel that way,” she assured Bridget. “She was kind and thoughtful, too. Assured me the wish I made on a star would come true. She was right.”
“Well, mine hasn’t come true yet,” Suzy said with a mock pout. “See, Molly made us all wish on a falling star that night. I wished for a husband and a baby, Tally wanted a Thoroughbred horse, and Molly, she only wanted to be married to Josh.”
“And to win first place for her jam at the county fair,” Tally reminded her. “Which she did.”
“All her dreams came true. And then she died,” Suzy said, and picked up her coffee cup. There was a respectful silence around the table.
“Sometimes I think Josh died, too,” Tally said. “He certainly withdrew into a shell. He didn’t come to our fifteenth reunion. We never see him anymore.”
“You would have buried yourself, too,” Suzy said, “if it had been Jed who’d died.”
Tally sipped her coffee thoughtfully. “I wonder. I think eventually I would have come out of it. I think you would have forced me to come out of it,” she said to Suzy.
“That’s what friends are for,” Suzy said. “Hey, Tally. Maybe it’s our fault Josh has become a recluse. You know how men are. They rely on women to set up the social situations. We haven’t forced him back out into the world. We’ve let him drift away. Hmm.” Then she turned to Bridget “Anyway tell us how you talked Josh into posing for an ad, when he’s been a hermit these past years? You must have done something. He’s not susceptible to flattery or flirting. God knows, every single woman in town has tried, except me, of course. I know better.”
“It wasn’t easy,” Bridget admitted, her head still reeling from the image of Molly, the perfect homemaker and Josh’s perfect wife. No wonder he was still single and likely to remain so—Molly was a hard act to follow. Darned near impossible. Not that she’d try. Not on a bet. “Being the spokesman for a particular product like Wild Mustang men’s cologne—”
“That’s the name of the cologne?” Suzy asked.
Bridget nodded, waiting for the kind of derisive comment Josh had made about the smell of wild mustangs.
But Suzy’s blue eyes sparkled. “That sounds so sexy. I can see it now. Josh, bare-chested, riding a wild mustang bareback in the commercials.”
Bridget nodded eagerly, grateful for the positive reinforcement, but she also felt a pang of jealousy. “Are you sure you’re not interested in him?’’ she asked Suzy.
Suzy shook her head. “Not me. I know better than to compete with a saint, especially one who’s in heaven, still sewing, knitting, canning and helping out at harvest time. Besides, Josh is like a brother to me. At least he was until he pulled this disappearing act. Go ahead, you were saying...
“Oh, yes,” Bridget continued. “Being a spokesman for a product can be very rewarding financially. I mentioned he could make enough for Max’s college education.”
“That Max is a handful,” Tally said. “Have you met him?”
“I ran into him the first day I got here, or rather he ran into me, on his bicycle. He’s a cute kid.”
“No kids of your own?” Suzy asked.
“No kids, no husband,” Bridget said. “Advertising is a tough, competitive field. It takes a lot of time and effort to make it. I just started out on my own this year. No time for marriage now. Maybe someday when I’m ready to retire and take it easy. I just read about two eighty-year-olds who met in a nursing home and fell in love. That’ll be me,” she said lightly, as if she didn’t care about getting married anytime soon. Which was the truth. It would probably take her about fifty years to get over her fears of letting herself love anyone again. Which would take her right up into her eighties.
“Maybe that’s what I should do,” Suzy said. “Of course it will be too late for me to have kids.” She sighed loudly.
“Anybody who’s as bright and cute as you are will find somebody any day now,” Tally said. “You too, Bridget Don’t tell me there aren’t men beating down your door in San Francisco?”
“Not exactly,” Bridget said. “And I must admit after attending the wild horse sale the other day and getting a look at the men around here, it makes city men look awfully effete, if you know what I mean.”
Tally and Suzy exchanged a brief, meaningful look. Bridget hoped she hadn’t given anything away. With gossip spreading like wildfire in this town she didn’t want anyone saying or even thinking she was even moderately interested in Josh or anyone else. Which she wasn’t. She was just curious. About him, about his former wife and any other detail that contributed to her understanding of her Wild Mustang Man. Not hers, she reminded herself. If all went well, soon he’d belong to the world.
“Anyway,” Suzy continued, “even with the money, I’m surprised he agreed to do it. So is everybody in town.”
“So am I,” Bridget confessed. “But I promised to make it as painless as possible. Just taking pictures of him at work. No posing. Nothing artificial.”
“I can’t wait to see the pictures,” Tally said.
“And smell the cologne,” Suzy added. “I’ve got to get back to work now, ladies. It was good meeting you, Bridget. Let’s do this again. If you have time, that is.”
“I will. I won’t be able to spend all day photographing,” Bridget said. As much as she’d like to, Josh would never permit it.
From the diner they each went their separate ways. Bridget went back to the Laundromat to stare thoughtfully at the clothes flopping around in the dryer, to think about Josh Gentry, his son and his former wife. The hours dragged, but somehow she got through the day, and the next day she called Kate to find out what was happening.
“Your pictures are great, just great,” Kate said. “I finally had a chance to run them by the client this morning and they loved them. They want some closeups, though, before they sign the contract. They say they need to see his face, from all angles. I need to see it, too. This guy is really something.”
“Didn’t I tell you?” Bridget asked. Then she sighed loudly. “His face from all angles. Okay, okay. I’ll go out there right now.” She crossed her fingers on both hands that he’d be home.
“We’re close, Bridgie,” Kate said. “We’re getting close. I can feel it, can’t you?”
“I think so,” she said. But standing on the quiet street of this small town in a remote corner of Nevada, she felt far removed from the frantic world of advertising. Not that she wasn’t eager to succeed. She was. She wanted to show Scott he was wrong about her, that she was good at what she did. She could write copy, take pictures and sell products. She could support herself. Which was fortunate because nobody else was going to support her.
It was a hard idea to get used to, but she would. She couldn’t have the husband, house and family she’d always wanted. She’d have to be content with money, prestige, independence, and professional accolades. Provided for herself and by herself. There was only one person she could depend upon, and that was Bridget McCloud.
She uncrossed her fingers, hung up the phone and headed back to the ranch to face Josh Gentry once again and to shove a camera into his handsome face. Because if she didn’t do it, who would?
Chapter Four
Josh had been busy yesterday. Very busy. There was no reason to feel guilty because he had things to do and didn’t want to be interrupted. That woman was just going to have to realize he had work to do and couldn’t spend all his time posing for pictures. Or teaching her how to shoot a slingshot. He kept thinking of the look on her face when he told her not to come by. A brief look of surprise, then a quick cover-up, a proud tilt of the chin, and low and behold she was busy, too. In the high desert dawn, he leaned against the narrow chute next to his corral and steadied his newest wild horse.
“Come on, babe. Don’t be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you,” he murmured waiting his chance to throw a halter on her. She was a proud little
critter, with excellent possibilities. Just like Bridget.
Dammit, why couldn’t he get that woman out of his mind? Why did everything remind him of her? He’d even dreamed about her the past two nights. One night was understandable. After all, she was the first woman who’d penetrated his home and his defenses since Molly died. But two nights in a row? And each dream more erotic than the last.
Then Max had to ask about her every day. Where was she, when was she coming back. He wanted to show her how good he was with his slingshot, how he could ride his bike no-handed down the driveway. He wanted her to see Barney, his pet rat. Fortunately Max had gone to play with a friend today, so he could finally get some peace and quiet and get to work. But he couldn’t concentrate on haltering the horse.
Instead he was standing there staring off into space, thinking about Bridget. Remembering her sitting across the dinner table from him, not knowing what to say to her. Wanting her to go, yet wanting her to stay. Wondering when she was going to show up again with her camera around her neck, her tawny, windblown hair and her nonstop questions.
He looked around. Except for sound of hoof beats as his horses raced across the field in the distance, there was absolute silence. Just the way he liked it. But more than the silence, there was a hush in the air this morning. As if something was about to happen. Even his horse stopped stomping her hooves and pointed her ears forward, listening, waiting and watching. They were sensitive, the best of the wild mustangs, and this one was no exception. He smiled to himself. Yes, he’d made the right choice and got himself one hell of a good horse.