The Gentrys: Cinco

by Linda Conrad

  "We need to talk about making up a cover story for you," he told her. "Gentry Wells is the kind of place where everyone knows everybody else who lives here. I'm sure when you and Kyle stopped in town last week, you started tongues wagging."

  "Oh?" It was hard to believe any town could be quite so … provincial.

  "I've given it a lot of thought," he continued. "You know a little about computers, don't you?"

  She nodded, but kept herself from bragging that there wasn't a machine in the world she didn't know something about.

  Cinco apparently saw the nod. "Well, everyone in the county knows all my spare time is spent with computers. They don't exactly understand about the security business, but they do know I have a lot of equipment."

  At the word equipment, a picture of what else that might refer to zinged through her brain. Oh, he definitely had the right equipment as far as she was concerned. She felt the blush coming on, so she turned to look out the window.

  He concentrated on the road ahead and didn't seem to notice. "I thought we could tell everyone that you're a computer consultant who's come here to install some new machinery … satellite connections and whatnot."

  "Yes, all right. If you think that will work, I can probably pull it off."

  He grinned. "Great. We'll tell that story to everyone, including the hired hands." He seemed to mull that over for another second. "Hmm. My sister will be home from college in a few days. I think we might have to tell her the truth."

  "Fine. Whatever." It didn't make any difference.

  Just then the engine noises changed a decibel or two. She looked over at Cinco, but he didn't seem to notice.

  "Did you see that the engine warning light just came on?" She pointed down at the amber light on the dash in front of him.

  "That happens sometimes. Don't worry. The light'll go off soon enough."

  "Don't you think that means something's wrong?"

  He shook his head. "Naw. Probably just the light's broken. We have two mechanics, both working full-time to keep our rolling stock running smooth."

  A few hundred feet down the road she noted something had changed. "The light's still on and now the temperature gauge is on the high side. Isn't that a problem?"

  Once again he shook his head. "Stop worrying so much. You've got real threats to aggravate yourself about. The mechanical workings of our pickups shouldn't be your concern."

  Typical male, she thought. But she let it be, even though she felt another flush of unease over his controlling nature. He was certainly right, though. His trucks were not her responsibility.

  Still, she couldn't help but ask. "So, you don't want to stop and check it out then?"

  "Just relax. You don't know the first thing about life out here. Let me handle it."

  She straightened in her seat and glanced out the passenger window to keep from saying something she might regret. His words flashed her back to a time long ago when her father, Rear Admiral Stanton Powell, had said much the same thing, over and over again.

  She gritted her teeth and tried to forget how she'd learned what he'd really meant by that. How he taught her to be a good little soldier—or else. How he'd never let her properly grieve over her mother's death, or any of the many other nightmarish memories she'd done her best to put behind her now that he was dead.

  Shaking her head softly to clear it, she wondered why in the world those old nightmares had come back to her at this moment. She sneaked a glance at the handsome cowboy in the driver's seat. He was not her father.

  She still wasn't exactly sure who Cinco was inside, but she was positive that he was only interested in her safety—not really trying to control her life. She had to find a way to deal with her temporary situation and not take out frustrations or deep-seated fears on the man who didn't seem any happier about her being here than she was.

  Turning to face forward, she saw steam begin to blow out from under the hood. Well, that didn't take as long as she'd thought it would. Within a few seconds the billowing clouds of steam covered the windshield and forced Cinco to bring the truck to a stop at the side of the road.

  He didn't look at her, but opened his door and stepped to the ground. "Sit tight. I'll see what's wrong."

  No chance of that. She counted to ten then climbed out, walking to the lifted hood and the puzzled-looking man who stood gazing at the engine, scratching the back of his neck.

  Cinco narrowed his eyes at her. "I see you mind real well, Captain Frosty. You must realize it's past time for you to start doing what I say."

  He flung his arm in a huge arch. "We're not protected out here. There could be a sniper just waiting for you to be out in the open."

  She rolled her eyes and tsked at him. Tsked at him, for God's sake!

  "All right," he conceded. "Maybe that's a little farfetched, but I'm the security specialist, not you. It's my job to keep you safe while you're under my protection." He gave up on the steaming engine and reached for his mobile phone. "I'll just call the ranch. Someone should be able to come for us shortly. Meanwhile you can wait in the pickup."

  Meredith moved around him and peered down at the errant machinery under the hood. "Mind if I take a look first?"

  He shrugged a shoulder. "Knock yourself out."

  She bent over the front bumper, studying the engine.

  Cinco hesitated, hooked his thumbs in his back pockets and studied her. He sure could appreciate the view from here. Her heavy khaki pants stretched tightly across her rounded bottom, suddenly giving him a racing pulse and a shortness of breath he couldn't remember having in years.

  What on earth had gotten into him? She wasn't even his type. He surely did enjoy the company of women, but most of the women he fancied were a lot more feminine than this one. They'd all been short, long-haired Texas girls with low-cut blouses and sugar on their tongues. The kind of women he'd always dated wore denim and lace and smelled like a handful of spring flowers.

  Ellen. The thought came unbidden and unwelcome. A fresh rip of pain seared through him. The only woman he'd ever really loved, her death still caused him anger and frustration whenever he allowed himself to remember. He didn't protect her. He didn't keep her safe.

  And he'd tried so hard.

  "Your mechanics keep tools in your trucks?"

  Meredith's question jerked him back to reality. Burying the old anguish deep inside, he vowed to never again make the mistake of falling in love. It never worked out. When he became that involved, he lost his ability to protect and secure. He lost his edge.

  He nodded once, but kept his mouth shut.

  "I need an eleven-sixteenths box-end wrench and a large screwdriver."

  "Uh. All right." He flipped the tailgate down and hopped onto the bed. He was pretty sure he could figure out which of the wrenches was an eleven-sixteenths box-end. And if he couldn't, he'd never admit it.

  She didn't bother to look at them when he handed the tools over, simply kept her head bent to her task.

  After a few minutes she straightened up. "You want to try cranking it over now?"

  Cool as ice. Professional and detached. Dang, but she was spectacular.

  He climbed into the cab and turned the starter. Without so much as a minor stutter, the engine flared to life Meredith slammed the hood and returned to the passenger seat, saying nothing.

  As they pulled out onto the highway, he felt compelled to make some remark. "What'd you do?"

  It was Meredith's turn to shrug. "Not much. I just unscrewed the idler pulley on the serpentine belt, tightened the belt and screwed the pulley back down." She rubbed the back of her hand over her mouth and turned to him. "That should take care of it. Except you'll probably need to add some coolant to compensate for what it lost through the steam."

  Lord have mercy. She had a tiny speck of black grease on the bridge of her nose, and it made her look soft, vulnerable and needy all of a sudden. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and forced his eyes to pay attention to the road ahead.

>   The sensations, racing along his nerves, were totally out of order. In his head he began the chant that he figured would soon become a necessary part of his every waking moment.

  She's a client. I will treat her as a buddy and a friend. I will not think of her any other way.

  Somehow he knew this was going to be one of those things that was easier to think about than to actually do.

  The next morning the sun came up, revealing a clear, blue sky. A crisp fall breeze blew across the West Texas plains, making the leaves on the pecans and live oaks sound like old-fashioned women bustling past in long skirts.

  Having lived here all his life, Cinco knew the feel of a "norther" getting ready to barrel down on the countryside from the great Rocky Mountains. But he also knew he had the time to simply enjoy today and maybe tomorrow before it hit.

  After last night's starkly silent supper and a restless night, showing Meredith around the ranch this morning would be a pure joy. Walking beside her and watching her carefully glide across the dirt in the paddocks and barnyards in her new jeans and boots was already putting him in a good mood.

  He couldn't keep the smile off his face as he saw her try to force down her perpetual serious demeanor and turn it into a casual expression. The woman was as far from casual as anyone could be and still be able to walk, But there was something about the straight spine and chin held high that drew him. Her athletic build and quiet seriousness were bringing feelings and emotions up from some long-buried part of his heart—and his libido.

  He dared to touch her elbow. "You're going to love this next place. It's the saddle horses. We keep about sixty head in this one barn. Most of them should be in their stalls about now."

  "Sixty … horses?" She sounded a little tense.

  "Why sure." He was positive that this would be just what she needed to feel more at home. "I'll bet you find at least one of them to befriend."

  She cleared her throat. "There's, uh, something you should know about me. I'm not exactly an animal love uh, horse person."

  Cinco knew that everyone on earth could be a horse person. They just needed to meet the right one.

  Ignoring her remarks, he swung her through the open doors. "See? I told you. These are the best bred, most well-behaved animals on earth. I'm absolutely certain you're going to love them."

  * * *

  Four

  « ^ »

  Meredith stood at the wide-open doorway that led into a rather dark, cold barn and swallowed hard, trying to keep the nausea from overtaking her.

  She could hear noises. Horse-type noises, she assumed.

  Not wanting Cinco to know how truly scared she was to be here, she straightened her shoulders, took a deep breath and followed him into the shadows. All around her she could feel the teeming animal life.

  Once inside the gigantic double doors, she realized the place wasn't in the least bit dark. It had just seemed that way from out in the bright sunshine.

  She found herself standing on a hard-packed stone-and-cement aisle that stretched the entire length of the long narrow building. Wide and spotlessly clean, the aisle was lit from above by a combination of skylights and huge industrial-looking lamps hanging from the thirty-foot ceiling beam.

  Nothing too scary about any of that.

  Cinco grabbed her elbow. "Come on. There's a couple of special friends I'd like you to meet."

  He dragged her past leather straps hanging from the walls and a couple of doorways that opened up to other rooms of some sort. They passed a rough-sawn, wood-slated wall and the smell of hay, manure and musk immediately hit her. Her skin crawled with the overwhelming feeling of being watched.

  She began to drag her heels.

  "Right down here is my old friend Measles," Cinco was saying as he tugged her down the aisle. "For riding lessons I think she's a best bet for a beginner."

  Meredith could hear rustling noises coming from the other side of the wooden slats lining the center aisle. She wanted to ask what was on the other side of those walls as they continued past. Then they suddenly became half walls. She could clearly see what had been watching her now.

  Horses. Each little, walled-off room contained a horse. And nearly every one of them was keeping an eye on her as Cinco pulled her along the aisle. She did her best to stay in the very middle of the walkway—far enough away from the actual animals so that they couldn't reach for her as she moved past.

  Cinco stopped, directly in front of an animal who, at the moment, eyed her suspiciously.

  "Ah. Here's Measles's stall." Cinco dropped Meredith's elbow and went over to the gigantic beast. He reached right over the half wall and stroked its nose. "Hey, old girl. You been getting enough work to suit you lately?"

  The horse leaned into Cinco's hand and made a couple of soft noises that almost sounded like a greeting. It actually seemed to recognize him.

  Cinco reached into the pocket of his denim jacket, pulled out some small object and offered it to the horse. "Didn't think I'd forget your treat, did you?"

  The animal pulled back its lips, snickered at the man and nibbled at his open palm. With a jerk it reared its head and made another noise that sounded like a complaint.

  He just grinned and patted the animal's neck. "Good girl."

  Cinco turned, looking altogether too pleased by this uncontrollable beast, then he glanced over to Meredith and scowled. "Come over and meet Measles, darlin'."

  Her throat dried up and she felt a little light-headed. "Uh…"

  "Come on. There's nothing to worry about. This old mare wouldn't hurt a flea. She's so gentle we use her to train little kids."

  Meredith could feel the sweat begin to form at the edges of her temples and across her palms. But when Cinco grabbed her by the wrist, dragging her toward the half wall and the horse, she bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out—and decided to try being grown-up about this.

  "Here. Just give her a little pat." Cinco put her hand against the horse's neck. "She's really very sweet."

  Meredith knew Cinco was trying hard to find something to please her on the ranch. He was trying to be a good host, and she really didn't want to appear ungrateful—or chicken.

  She tentatively touched the horse. The rough feel of its hair reminded her of a short-napped fur coat. But this one was warm against her fingertips. Suddenly the horse's skin quivered under her hand and she yanked her arm away. "Oh! What's wrong? Did I do something to hurt it?"

  Cinco studied her for a long time before he finally spoke. "Meredith, horses have feelings and emotions just like people. Measles wants attention … and treats … the same as we all do."

  Feelings and emotions—just like people? Meredith thought about that concept a second. But she knew she certainly didn't want attention, and she couldn't remember ever being offered a treat of any kind, either. Did other people really want that sort of thing?

  She fought to drag her attention back to Cinco, who was speaking softly to her the same way that he'd spoken earlier to his friend the horse.

  "…and what the mare expected was for you to stroke her neck." He picked up Meredith's hand, lifting it toward the horse. "Here, try again. There's nothing to fear."

  This time he kept his own hand covering hers and tenderly moved them both in wide strokes over Measles's neck. Fascinating.

  For a few moments Meredith concentrated on the feel of the tendons and muscles and the weird sensations that having a live, uncontrollable animal quivering under her touch were bringing. Then another sensation, an entirely different and foreign one, began to overpower all the others.

  The warmth from the back side of her hand shot through her skin and began a tingling rush up her arm and straight down to her chest. The heat from Cinco's nearness was playing havoc with her mind. She couldn't think about the horse, could barely remember where she was.

  She felt her nipples begin to harden, and immediately stiffened her spine in a useless effort to shake off what was happening. Then she tried to concentr
ate on the horse and discovered to her chagrin that rubbing her hand over the horse and feeling a living, breathing being under her fingers was adding to the sensual sensation that standing shoulder to shoulder with Cinco was causing in her body.

  He must have felt something, too, because he suddenly removed his hand and took a step away.

  "Well. That's one way to get a feel for the horse," he said in an amused tone. "Another is to sit astride her and let each of you learn the other's moods and movements."

  His gaze lowered to Meredith's mouth, once again lingering way too long for comfort.

  Meredith stepped aside and tried to say something intelligent. "I, uh, might … hmm." She inclined her head and straightened up, feeling totally past words.

  "Okay, then," Cinco managed, before he did or said something he would regret.

  The sound of her voice had punched him in the gut again, the same as when he'd first heard her speak. Only, this time the sound, combined with the closeness and the sight of that full bottom lip pursed with determination, made him want things he had no business wanting. He'd nearly reached out to embrace her, needing to soothe whatever bothered her.

  "I'll go find our foreman, Jake. He'll have one of the men saddle up Measles for you." Cinco needed a little distance. "Don't go anywhere. I'll be right back."

  She nodded but stood stock-still, saying nothing.

  He longed to hear her voice again, needing it like some kind of addiction. But instead, he simply gritted his teeth, balled his fists and walked away.

  Twenty minutes later Cinco found himself standing way too close to her again.

  They stood together outside in one of the paddocks, next to the black wooden fence where a docile, saddled and tied Measles patiently waited. Cinco absently checked the saddle cinches while he tried to remember what they were doing here. His own name seemed beyond him when Meredith stood this close. Thank heaven she didn't seem to be having the same problems.

  "Tell me why you call this horse Measles," she asked.