Wild Mustang Man

by Carol Grace

  “Outside,” Josh said, gesturing toward the lawn. “I’m taking her a piece of cake.”

  “I’ll take it” Suzy said, grabbing a plate and heading out the back door.

  Josh followed her but was waylaid by Jed and Tally. Though the fellow classmates had married only recently, he hadn’t gone to their wedding. Hell, he hadn’t gone anywhere for the past two years. Now that he was here, among old friends, and it felt so comfortable and natural, he wondered why.

  “It’s good to see you again, Josh,” Tally said, settling on a picnic bench as the late-afternoon shadows fell over Suzy’s lawn.

  Her husband set his coffee cup next to Jed’s and sat down next to him. “Congratulations on your marriage, you two.”

  The way they looked at each other, eyes brimming with love, filled Josh with painful jealousy. “I have to say I was surprised,” Josh said. “I mean, after all these years.”

  “What do you mean, surprised?” Jed said, reaching for Tally’s hand across the table. “You were there that night after the prom. You heard me promise to marry Tally if she wasn’t married by our fifteenth reunion.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “But you never thought he’d do it,” Tally said. “Neither did I.”

  “We were crazy kids,” Jed said with a smile. “Wishing on a star like that I must say I was skeptical. But it worked.” He caught himself. “Oh, God, Josh, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right I got my wish. I married Molly. The only girl I ever loved.”

  “But not the only girl you ever will love,” Tally said softly. “Is she?” Josh’s eyes strayed across the yard to where Bridget was sitting with Suzy, and he knew what Tally was thinking. The same thing everyone else was thinking. He clenched his jaw. Not this again. Not someone else telling him to take another chance on love. With Bridget. A woman who didn’t belong in Harmony. Who, when she realized how dull life in Harmony was, would be back in San Francisco so fast she’d barely have a chance to say goodbye.

  “Those wishes we made that night those promises, you took them seriously,” Josh said to Jed. “You must have, or you wouldn’t have come back fifteen years later to make good on them. I feel the same. Finding someone else, loving someone else, especially someone who doesn’t belong here, it’s not in the cards for me.”

  “But...” Tally said.

  “Leave it” her husband said, putting his hand on her arm. “Josh is doing what he has to do.”

  “I know,” Tally said. “It’s just that I can’t help thinking how young we were then, how naive. What I’m trying to say is that if I die first I want you to marry again, Jed. I thought I was happy all those years I was single, but now that I’m married...” She gave Jed a blissful, intimate smile that made Josh ache inside. “I wouldn’t wish the single state on anyone. Not that you should marry just anyone,” she added hastily.

  Josh didn’t know if she was talking to him or her husband. He took a deep breath, hoping to quash this marriage business once and for all. “If you’re thinking of Bridget,” he said to Tally.

  “Who, me?” she asked with mock innocence.

  “Bridget is a career girl,” Josh explained. “She’s very dedicated and focused on making a success in advertising. She has her own company, this is her first big account and for her it’s just the beginning of a lucrative career. I’m sure you wouldn’t want her to throw it all over for.. .for a boring life in a small town.” The more he said, the more he convinced himself Bridget would be a fool to give up a brilliant career in a sophisticated big city for a humdrum life on a ranch. Taking care of one five-year-old and an overgrown vegetable garden and a house designed by and for someone else? Why would she? She wouldn’t. By the time he’d finished his coffee he was thoroughly depressed. Jed and Tally went to help clean up the kitchen, leaving Josh to stare across the yard at Bridget and ponder the situation.

  Yet Bridget had seemed happy whenever she was at his ranch. She looked happy, whether she was sitting across the kitchen table from him, eating soup, or making figures out of play dough with Max. But that’s because the ranch was a novelty to her. So was he. Once she got back to the city she would realize just how boring life in Harmony was. She’d thank her lucky stars she hadn’t made the mistake of staying there. What was wrong with him? He was talking like that was an option. It wasn’t

  Dusk was falling. People were leaving. Bridget was standing, saying goodbye to his former classmates. He crossed the yard in a few wide strides. “Are you leaving?” he asked her. “Need a ride?”

  “I walked.”

  “That was before you got tackled.”

  “I’m fine,” she said.

  “I insist,” he said, taking her by the arm.

  They thanked Suzy. They said goodbye to everybody else, then he helped her into the passenger seat of his truck.

  “I had a good time,” she said as he drove slowly down Main Street toward her room over the shoe repair shop.

  “So did I,” he said.

  “You sound surprised.”

  “I guess I am.” He suddenly remembered why he’d come to the party in the first place. It was to prove to himself that Bridget wasn’t the only woman in the world. That she didn’t stand out from the crowd like a long-stemmed rose in a petunia patch. So much for that plan. The only thing he’d proven today was that he cared more about Bridget than he’d imagined possible. That he worried about her, thought about her, and didn’t want to let her out of his sight. He hated to think what it all added up to.

  “So you were president of your class as well as a football star,” she said with a sidelong glance at him.

  “It’s been downhill ever since,” he said with a wry smile. “Until now. I feel better than I have in years. I didn’t realize it, but I’d missed the old gang. I’d buried myself in my work.”

  “Since Molly died?” she asked.

  “Even before. We got all wound up in our own projects, Molly in her good works, I with the horses. I thought I wanted it that way. Now I see there was something missing. I care about these people.”

  “They certainly care about you,” she said.

  “Seems they care about you, too,” he said.

  “Right,” she said. “That’s why they tackled me, threw me to the ground and piled on top of me. I’d hate to see what would have happened if they didn’t care about me.”

  “I thought you didn’t get hurt.”

  “I didn’t. I’m fine. It was more fun than I’ve had in years.”

  “Was it fun to lie on the ground pretending to be unconscious? I didn’t need that kind of scare.” He pulled up in front of the shuttered shoe repair shop and turned off the engine.

  “I’m sorry,” she said turning in her seat to face him. “I didn’t know touch football could be so rough. Next time I’ll stick to the sack races.”

  “I have to admit you ran pretty fast.”

  “I told you.”

  “Other people care about you, too,” he said. “Tally and Jed. They just got married this year.”

  “In their thirties. Maybe there’s hope for me,” she said, twisting around to look at the clock on the dashboard.

  He ran his hand around the steering wheel. Anything to keep from grabbing her by the shoulders and kissing her until he heard her moan with ecstasy, until she returned his kisses, each one hotter and more insistent than the last. Or taking the fringe on her shirt and rubbing it between his fingers, grazing her breasts softly but deliberately until she begged him to go beyond the fringe. Then he’d unbutton her shirt, watching her eyes widen and soften, until he’d tossed it into the back seat.

  Next to go would be the white lacy bra he would unhook to let her creamy breasts swell and fill his hands. Oh, Lord, what was wrong with him, letting his imagination run wild like this. The cab of his truck had become unbearably warm, as if he’d left the heater on. He rolled his window down to let the evening air cool his fevered brow and still his pounding pulse. He racked his brain to try to remember
what they were talking about. Something about her having hope. Hope of getting married. She couldn’t, she wouldn’t marry someone else.

  “I thought you were into your career these days. That’s what I told them,” he said desperately.

  “Oh, I am. I just thought one of these days, when I feel secure in my work and I find the right person.”

  Josh felt a stab of jealousy as sharp as a knife in his chest. “How will you find him?” he asked.

  “That’s the problem. What if I make another mistake? I wonder if I’ve learned anything. How will I find him? How will I know if I’ve found him? I’m afraid to trust myself. To know who’s right and who isn’t. To separate the gold from the dross. The way I am, I want it all. I want someone honest and sincere and loyal and all that and I want to be swept off my feet too. He has to be the sexiest and the most exciting man in the world. I want to fall madly in love. I want to lose my head and my heart the whole nine yards. Is that asking too much?”

  Josh felt his gut twist into a knot. He was not that guy. He didn’t have a chance with Bridget. Why did he think he did? Why did anybody think he did?

  “No, it’s not asking too much,” he assured her. “You’ll find him.” But deep down he didn’t want her to find him. He wanted her to stop looking.

  It was almost dark now, but he saw her shake her head, turn away from him and unlatch the passenger door. Before he could get out and help her, she’d hopped out onto the sidewalk. She didn’t thank him for the ride, she didn’t say goodbye. She just left. He sat in his truck watching her.

  Women. Would he ever understand them? They were having a discussion. He thought he was holding his end of it. But suddenly she left, leaving behind only her haunting scent and the smell of fresh-cut grass that clung to her clothes. He inhaled deeply and leaned back against the seat What had made her jump out like a frightened rabbit? Was it something he’d said? He turned his head and stared at the window of the room above the shop, waiting for the lights to go on. They never did. He drove around the block. Then once more.

  Bridget felt the tears coming way before Josh’s comforting words, “You’ll find him.” He’d meant to be comforting, but he wasn’t. What if she had found him, and he didn’t want to be found? She tossed her bag on the chair and threw herself down on her bed and let the tears flow. What had made her go on like that about the man she was looking for?

  Another minute in the truck with him and she would have confessed he was the man she was looking for. She got out just in time, because she was about to throw herself at him and tell him she loved him. Which would have been a big mistake. He would have been kind. He would have been understanding. But it would have been awkward. Because Josh didn’t love her, and he never would. Even if he did, it didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to marry her or anybody else. Bridget admired the way he’d come out of his “black hole” and into the world of the living. He was a devoted father, a loving son and a wonderful brother. Those were the some of the qualities that made him stand out from other men. But dammit, why did she have to fall in love with someone so outstanding, with so many assets, who was totally out of her reach?

  There was a knock on her door. Her heart pounded in her chest. She switched on the bedside lamp and sat up so suddenly she felt dizzy.

  “Bridget, it’s me,” Josh said.

  She took a deep breath, then she blew her nose, wiped her eyes and got up and opened the door. For a long moment he stared down at her. She knew her eyes were red and her hair was a mess. She was too strung out to care.

  She didn’t expect him. He should have been halfway home by then. But he wasn’t. He was there, filling her small room with his broad shoulders, his large frame and his solid presence. Her heart sped up. Her knees wobbled. She should say something like “come in,” but her throat was dry, and the words didn’t come.

  Why didn’t he say something, instead of standing there looking at her with that look he had? That look that asked questions she couldn’t answer.

  Finally he did speak. “Can I come in?” he said.

  “Oh, sure. Of course.” The room wasn’t that big, and it suddenly got a lot smaller with Josh leaning against the wall taking in the day bed, the desk and one overstuffed chair. When his gaze returned to her, she wished for the nth time that day that she hadn’t worn the Western shirt because of the way he was staring at it.

  Self-consciously she tugged at the fringe.

  “Did I tell you how much I like your shirt?”

  “I...I don’t think you did.”

  “Too bad about the stain.”

  “Oh, that’s what you’re staring at.”

  “I didn’t do a very good job taking it out.” He reached out as if to try again, and she jerked back instinctively. If he touched her again she’d be a basket case. She was just on the edge, anyway.

  “That’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I’ll have it dry cleaned. When I get home.”

  His eyes narrowed. “When will that be?”

  “That depends. As soon as we finish shooting at your place, I guess.”

  “You must find Harmony pretty dull. Here you are at ten o’clock on a Friday night in a room over a shoe repair store.” He laughed mirthlessly. “What would you be doing tonight if you were in San Francisco?”

  She leaned against the arm of the chair. She knew what he was thinking. That she was some kind of party girl, some big-city girl who could never be happy in a small town, who thought Harmony was the sticks. Okay, if that’s what he thought, if that’s what he wanted to think, she’d give him something to think about.

  “Hmm, let me see,” she mused, gazing off into space. “It’s June, just in time for the opening of the opera. I guess I’d be at some sort of gala in one of my dozens of ball gowns. Dinner first at the Tonga Room. That’s where everyone goes. Everyone who is anyone, that is. And after the opera, coffee on Union Street at one of those trendy little coffee houses. Just a hop, skip and a jump from my place in the Marina so after coffee—”

  “That’s enough,” he said between clenched teeth. He grabbed her arm and yanked her out of her chair, bringing her up to face him.

  Her eyes widened. “But you asked me. I thought you wanted to know,” she said innocently.

  He tightened his grip on her arm. “I changed my mind. I don’t want to know about your dinners or your coffees or your ball gowns.”

  “You don’t?” she asked. “You don’t want to hear about my little black Versace or my fire-engine red Givenchy? Well, what do you want to hear about? What did you come up here for, anyway?”

  His blue eyes glittered like ice. “You know what I came up here for.” His gaze dropped to her breasts and the fringe that covered them. Covered them, but not well enough. Bridget could feel her nipples tighten and press against the soft white homespun cotton. And she knew that he was only too aware of the effect of his penetrating gaze.

  Before she could come up with some smart remark, his eyes had gone from ice blue to hot burning flames of passion. The tremors started in her spine and spilled over into all the little nerve endings she hadn’t known were exposed. If he hadn’t pulled her to him and held her like he’d never let her go, she would have fallen in a heap on the braid rug because her legs felt like rubber.

  His lips captured hers in a fierce kiss. She staggered backward and they fell awkwardly onto the narrow bed together. He braced his elbows on the mattress. She arched forward to meet him halfway, but instead of meeting her lips in the torrid kiss she longed for, she yearned for, he stopped abruptly in midair.

  “What’s wrong?” she gasped, aching for his touch. Ready and waiting for the kisses that could scorch her soul.

  “Wrong? We’re wrong. You and me,” he said, raising himself off the bed and standing above her. “You’re ball gowns and opera galas, and I’m horses and dirt and wide-open spaces.”

  “I was teasing about the ball gowns,” she said desperately, her cheeks burning.

  “Yeah, right You haven’t got d
ozens, you’ve only got a few. It doesn’t matter. What matters is you don’t belong here. You’re looking for a temporary diversion. And I’m not interested in a temporary diversion. I’m not interested in any kind of diversion. I’ve been trying to tell you that since the first day you got here. I have my life, and you have yours.”

  She sat on the edge of the bed, her hands pressed tightly together. “I know that but—”

  “Good. We both know that And we both know enough to stay away from each other,” he said, turning toward the door.

  “Wait a minute,” she said, getting to her feet willing her trembling legs to hold her up. “I never thanked you for the ride, or said good-night.”

  “Good night” he said, and then he was gone.

  Bridget didn’t cry. She was cried out She didn’t sleep, either. She lay in her bed staring miserably at the ceiling as the minutes and the hours ticked by. What could she have said to make things better? What made him think she came from a different world than she did? The answers were “nothing” and “nothing.” He thought what he thought and nobody could change his mind. She was a fool if she thought she could convince him she would fit into his life. Her latest attempt had just backfired. Royally. She would remember not to try sarcasm or exaggeration again. She’d remember not to try anything again. Not with Josh Gentry. She’d also remember to stay away from him as best she could.

  After a sleepless night she came to the conclusion that although she wasn’t destined to be anyone’s wife or mother, she could succeed, with a little luck, as a top-flight advertising account executive, and she was going to make Wild Mustang men’s cologne the hottest product of the year.

  As a result, at the annual advertising awards ceremony in San Francisco next September, she was going to be standing on the stage accepting an award for most creative, most imaginative, sexiest TV commercial. She would beat out her former company, her former fiancé and everyone else in town. Yes, victory would be sweet, she told herself. And so would revenge against Scott. But would it be enough? Would it take the place of love?