by Peggy Bird
What stood in the way of throwing caution to the wind was simply that without full-time employment, she could never hope to finish her degree, which was tantalizingly close. And she couldn’t contribute to the cost of the medical care her brother could only get in Portland. Not to mention the medications he needed for his heart problems.
Another obstacle was her relationship with Lucas and Daniel. How could she walk away from them? How could she be yet another mother figure who left?
Then there was the uneasy feeling that her Indian heritage might cause a few raised eyebrows in Jack’s social circles. What would Doreen Campbell and her buddies think about Jack dating an Indian? Would Jack and the boys be the object of their scorn?
Besides, she wasn’t exactly the most experienced seductress. Even if she decided to take a chance and try to get him to notice her, she wasn’t sure she knew how to go about it. She’d had her share of dates but only one serious, adult relationship. Not exactly a record of triumphant conquests.
Caught up in the fantasy of being in Jack Richardson’s arms and her quandary about whether to do something to make it happen, Quanna arrived at her building sooner than she expected, with little memory of the trip there. When she got into her apartment, she tried to read but that didn’t work so well either. Neither did trying to get to sleep. Thoughts of Jack Richardson interfered with it all.
Monday morning, she arrived at the Wildhorse Resort on the reservation for her shift at 6:30 a.m. yawning. Thankfully, she was so busy she didn’t have a chance to feel tired until she got to her car at three, after the lunch service was over. All she thought of on her way home was the long nap she had on her agenda as soon as she got in the door. A nap and forgetting about how attractive her boss was.
Chapter 8
There was no rational reason for Jack to head into Pendleton at seven o’clock on a Monday evening. He didn’t need gas for the truck, supplies for his horses, or a part for the irrigation system. With the pantry and refrigerator stocked by Quanna, there was no reason to go to the grocery store. His usual day to see Aunt Joan was later in the week, and he didn’t have a doctor or dentist appointment. Even so, he was on the road into town, his GPS set for an address on the Post-it note stuck to his dashboard.
How he was going to explain himself when he got to Quanna’s apartment was also a mystery. What the hell was he going to say? There was no emergency. She hadn’t left anything at the ranch that needed returning immediately. All he knew was that, somehow, after the conversation he’d had with his brother and the dinner he’d shared with her the night before, he wanted something from this woman. More than passing bits of conversation as he came and went, more than one dinner she’d made in his house like a lot of other evenings in the past few months. What that something was, he didn’t quite know but he was on the road to see her and find out.
Fifteen miles into the drive from his ranch to town, the reasons not to do this hit him in rapid succession. Suppose she was offended by his chasing her to her home? What if she wasn’t even home to be offended? He had no idea what her hours were at the casino restaurant. And even if she wasn’t waitressing, she had a life outside working for him. She had a family she felt responsible for, among other demands, maybe classes to study for, if she was taking classes this summer. He didn’t know if she was.
What if she was out? What if she was with a boyfriend? Did she have one? He didn’t know that, either. He had never thought it was his place to ask. Lucas would probably know, but he hadn’t thought to pump his son for information about his kid wrangler. How inappropriate would that be?
About as inappropriate as pursuing a woman over a decade younger than he was and who had become such an integral part of his kids’ lives that he shouldn’t even be thinking about what he was about to do. Yet here he was, potentially risking his boys’ relationship with Quanna so he could see if she was interested in changing her relationship with him.
By the time he pulled into the parking lot of Quanna’s apartment building, he’d tied himself in knots with “maybes,” should Is,” and “what ifs.” When he saw her car parked close to the front door of the building, one knot loosened. It looked like she was home. He was relieved until it occurred to him she could have gone out in someone else’s car. The knot returned.
Or, she could be home entertaining the boyfriend he didn’t know she had. The knot tightened. It began to feel like a noose around his neck when he wondered, once again, if she’d be turned off by his being there.
He sat in his truck for several minutes trying to come up with some reason to see her. He wasn’t sure he knew what he wanted other than to see her. He’d missed having her around the house all day, hearing her sing softly, talking to her when he had a chance even if the conversations were brief.
If he’d looked in the rearview mirror, he was sure he’d laugh at his furrowed brow and serious expression. How the hell had he gotten to this point? He was forty-four years old, had been running a million dollar wheat operation for decades, and he was sitting outside a rather shabby looking apartment building trying to decide if he should tuck his tail between his legs and go home or walk up to the building and talk to a woman.
Not being a coward—or being a fool, he wasn’t sure which—he chose the latter.
The outer door wasn’t locked. There was no buzzer to notify the residents someone had come into the building. Jack just walked up the internal steps. She was living someplace that wasn’t very secure. Didn’t that worry her?
He knocked on her door. From inside came the sound of Taylor Swift singing “Shake It Off,” accompanied by Quanna. The song was Daniel and Lucas’s favorite. And he didn’t have to guess who had introduced them to it.
When his knock wasn’t answered, he tried again, a bit louder. The music was apparently keeping her from hearing so he added “Quanna? It’s Jack. Can you hear me?”
The music stopped, replaced shortly after by the sound of a chain lock being undone. Quanna opened the door with a worried expression on her face. “Jack? What’re you doing here? Is something wrong?”
“This building isn’t very safe,” he said.
“So you’re here to inspect the security arrangements where I live?”
He could feel the embarrassment begin to creep up his neck to his face. “No, sorry. That was rude.”
She was smiling now. “Well, if it’s not to evaluate my building, why are you here?”
“I just ... I don’t know ... just wanted to...”
The door to the left of Quanna’s opened with a bang, and an elderly man stepped out into the hall, interrupting Jack’s fumbling explanation. The old man yelled, “I’m sick of listening to your noisy music and your loud friends, you cheap half-breed.”
Jack immediately stood in front of Quanna, protecting her with his body, pushing her farther back into her apartment with one hand.
“Excuse me, what did you say?” Anger at the old man replaced his embarrassment.
“I said she’s a half-breed tramp. Decent men don’t have anything to do with her kind.”
“I’ll let what you said about me slide, but I suggest you apologize to Ms. Morales.”
“Jack, please. Come in and forget it.” Quanna pulled at his arm.
He hesitated, hearing the fear in her voice and not wanting to make it any worse. But when the old man sneered and said, “Got you whipped, does she? I hear they’re pretty good in the sack,” Jack moved.
In a few long strides he was at the man’s front door, grabbing him by the shirtfront. “Old man, I was taught to respect my elders, but I’ll make an exception in your case. Now, God damn it, apologize to Ms. Morales, or I’ll show you what a whipping is.”
“Think you’re some sort of knight on a white horse, do you?”
Jack tightened his grip on the old man’s shirt, which began to choke him. The man coughed, and Jack loosened his hold. “Apologize, damn it.”
“Okay. Okay. If it means so much to you, I apologize.”
“Sorry,” the man said, looking at Quanna. Jack let go of him. The man stepped back into his apartment, slammed the door, and yelled, “Slut” at the top of his lungs.
Jack turned to see Quanna, ashen-faced and shaking. She motioned him in from the hall, gulping back tears.
He didn’t fight his instinct to comfort her. As soon as he was in the apartment, he had his arms around her, murmuring, “It’s okay. I won’t let him hurt you.”
“It’s not me I’m worried about. He could have hurt you,” she said as she slumped against him.
“I’m bigger and in better shape. He couldn’t do anything to me.”
“He has a gun, Jack. I didn’t know if he had it on him.”
For several minutes, they stood in an embrace, he soothing her with soft sounds and gentle touches, she stifling her tears with deep breathing. On one last shuddery sigh, she pulled away from him. “Thanks. I’m okay now. Embarrassed but okay.”
“Your neighbor’s the one who should be embarrassed, not you.” As he closed and locked the front door, he was already missing the warmth of her against his chest. “Has he done shit like this before?” he asked. When she nodded, he said, “You shouldn’t have to put up with it. Have you complained to the building manager?”
Waving off his suggestion with a vague gesture, she replied, “I ignore him when he rants.”
“If you thought he might hurt me, how do you know he won’t try to hurt you?”
“I don’t grab him by the shirt and threaten to beat him up. He’s a crabby old man who hates Indians. That’s all.”
Jack raked his fingers through his hair, furious and frustrated he couldn’t figure out how to make it better. “Surely there must be something...”
“Can we forget him for now? I’d rather get back to the conversation we were having when he interrupted.” Quanna had gone to the opposite side of the room, as if to put space between them. She was quiet and still, her brown eyes huge. “You never answered the question about why you’re here.” She sounded apprehensive.
“Okay, but we’re not finished talking about him.” He looked around, hoping there was something to help him explain the inexplicable. “Nothing’s wrong. At least, nothing you’ve done. It’s me.” He saw fear cross her face again. “No, no, I didn’t mean it that way. There’s nothing wrong with me either. I don’t know how to explain it. I’m not sure I should be here. I’m too old for this sort of thing. Or you’re too young. Whichever. You should be out with people your own age, some young guy who can ... I don’t know ... do the things you like to do. Not some old fart like me with a couple of kids and a lot of baggage.”
“I’m not clear what ‘this sort of thing’ is.” The fear in her eyes had begun to disappear. She seemed more curious now, maybe even amused. She began to move closer to him.
“And then there’s the whole awkwardness about you working for me. I don’t want you to feel obligated or anything. Don’t want things to be uncomfortable for you. God knows, the kids would kill me if something I did messed up the arrangement with you.”
“I agree. We don’t want to make things awkward.” She took another step toward him. “But what is it you think might do that?” She looked like she was fighting a smile as she prodded him to talk.
“I don’t know why this is so hard. Well, that’s not true. I do know. I’m not sure it’s the right thing to do. And I’m not good at it. Never have been. All I know is, it’s what I want to do.”
Now she was standing directly in front of him. She put her hand on his arm. “So, what is it you want to do, Jack?”
“Dinner. I thought maybe we could have dinner again. I enjoyed last night. I like talking with you. Could we, would you be interested in doing the same thing again? Only this time, maybe go someplace where neither one of us has to cook.”
She was beaming now, her whole face lit up with pleasure. “I’d love to have dinner with you. But let me cook. Maybe at the ranch so we don’t run into my awful neighbor again.”
“I want this to be different from what you do every day at the house. I want to take you out. I know some good places in town where I think you might...”
“You don’t know what you’re letting yourself in for. My neighbor’s not alone in his opinions. Remember those two jerks in the bar?” The fear was beginning to creep back into her eyes, and her smile had dimmed.
“That was unusual. You won’t hear that anyplace I’d take you.”
“Unfortunately, that’s not true. I don’t want you to have people looking at you the way he did because you’re with me. I’ll cook.”
He knew she could be stubborn. He’d seen her with the boys when she was trying to get them to do something they didn’t want to do. Apparently, however, she didn’t realize how stubborn he could be. He took her hand in both of his. “If you don’t want to go to a restaurant in Pendleton, how about the one where you work? I want to take you out to dinner, and I’m not going to let some old bigot change my plans.”
“I would have said the same thing even if he hadn’t come out of his lair. There are people like him all over the place.”
“I hate to think anyone would say ugly things to you. To anyone, but especially to you.” He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his side. Bad move on his part. Now that he had her close to him again, he wanted to draw her even nearer and finally see what she tasted like. Get on with the conversation, Richardson, before you do something stupid. Like kiss her. “You didn’t answer about going to the restaurant at the casino.”
He felt her sigh.
“I guess it would work. If you’re sure you want to do this.”
“I’m positive.” He released her. “So it’s settled. Dinner at the casino restaurant.” She nodded. For the first time, he noticed the circles under her eyes. “You look tired. You’ve had a long day. I’m sorry I barged in. I thought it would be better to do this outside your work hours and in person. But now I’ll get out of your way.”
“You’re not in my way. I was reading for a class I hope to take this fall.”
“You and Taylor Swift?” It was his turn to smile knowingly.
“Oh, right. You heard. Well, taking a break from reading actually.”
“I’ll let you get back to it.” He opened the front door. “I apologize for the scene in the hall. You should report your neighbor, you know.”
“I’m not going to make waves. I have to live here.”
“Your call. But promise me, if he gets bad again, you’ll do something about it.”
He waited for her to nod, which she did, barely.
“Okay, then I’ll see you tomorrow at the house.” He started to leave, but she touched his arm.
“Wait. We agreed on dinner but not when.”
He shook his head and smiled. “Shows you how out of practice I am. How about Wednesday night? That work for you?”
“Perfect. And, yes, I’ll see you tomorrow at the ranch.”
• • •
Of course she couldn’t get to sleep after he left. He had defended her, comforted her, asked her out. The pleasure of being in his arms as he held her had been better than any of her fantasies. It made her want more. Now that she knew what it was like to be held by him, she wanted to know what it would be like to kiss him. God only knows what she’d want after that.
Eventually her weariness from the previous night’s insomnia, a long, full day at the restaurant, and the emotional confrontation with her neighbor won out, and she fell into a deep sleep. Once there, the dreams she had prominently featured a sexy cowboy wearing a white hat like some old black and white movie. He rode to her rescue on an Appaloosa, scooping her up from the midst of a crowd carrying torches and nooses, then riding off with her. She woke up smiling at some point, only to go back to sleep and continue the adventure.
The next morning, instead of throwing on the first pair of jeans she could find and the cleanest T-shirt in her drawer, she
dressed more carefully, making sure the jeans she selected fit her well and hunting down the coral color knit top she knew was flattering to her coloring. Before she left for the ranch, she put her freshly washed hair in a perfect braid and even slapped on a bit of lipstick to match her shirt.
But as she drove down the road to the house, she could see Jack’s truck was missing. He was out someplace. Her careful preparations had been in vain.
The lipstick had been chewed off, and the knit shirt had collected a few spots by the end of the day, which was when Jack arrived back at the house. He offered her a glass of wine, which she turned down, peeked into the oven to see what she’d left him for dinner, and asked if six was a good time to pick her up the following night. He was warm and friendly, as he usually was, and there was no mention of the incident of the day before.
She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed.
Chapter 9
Quanna’s shift at the restaurant on Wednesday dragged so badly she swore she’d worked eighteen hours instead of eight. Feeling like a school kid released for summer vacation when she was finally finished, she raced home to shower and change. When she looked through her closet for something to wear, once again, she regretted not having enough money to buy a nicer wardrobe. There was no floaty, girly skirt or silky top, no sundress with a halter neckline, no sandals with a web of straps to hold them on her feet.
Instead, she was stuck with the same old clothes: regular jeans or ripped jeans, a couple pairs of knit pants, her scrubs from her job at Golden Years, her restaurant uniform, athletic shoes, boots, and ballet flats.
Finally she decided on a pair of new, never-worn jeans paired with a little top she’d forgotten she owned until she found it in the back of her closet. It was a totally impractical thing she’d bought in Portland for a date with the guy she’d been seeing. A warm beige color that looked good with her skin, the top consisted of four layers of fluttery gauze. Hanging from two thin spaghetti straps, it barely reached her waist. Not the floaty skirt she wanted, but the way the gauze layers moved around her torso was almost as good.