The Gentrys: Cinco

by Linda Conrad

  Abby let go of his shirt and turned to Meredith with her eyes wide. "You've never ridden before?"

  "No. I'm not exactly what you'd call a horse-type person. My thing is flying." Meredith was glad for the break in the tension between the siblings but wished the attention hadn't shifted to her.

  Abby flicked her hand in dismissal. "Oh, everyone can be a horse person," she began, turning around to stare at her brother with a cocked eyebrow, "if they get the right training. And to my knowledge, that wouldn't include private wrestling matches or sexy hot clutches, either."

  Meredith could feel the red flush spreading up her neck. She wondered if she'd ever be able to face Abby again after this. Absently, Meredith clasped her hands behind her back and stood at ease, hoping to escape soon.

  "Do you remember that I taught barrel racing at the church camp during summers when I was in high school?" Abby asked her brother.

  Cinco nodded but shot a furtive glance in Meredith's direction.

  Abby ignored his look and continued. "Well, when Pastor Johnson found out I was coming home, he called me at school and asked if I'd mind taking on a class for his new group of teenagers."

  Abby turned and explained to Meredith. "Our church has been sponsoring groups of troubled teens for the past few years. We bring them here from the big cities and try to give them a chance to get away from bad influences. Many of them just need a little attention and a new break in their lives to become productive citizens.

  "The church families that live in town each take a child or two. They try to give them both homes and hope. But Pastor Johnson wants to try showing this new batch of kids what ranching life is all about, as well. He wants them to learn to ride and about animal husbandry … thinks that will promote the right values," she said with a shrug of her shoulders. "The pastor has lined up several ranches for different kinds of lessons."

  Abby reached out and laid a friendly hand on Meredith's arm. "If you're going to be staying at Gentry Ranch with us for a while, why don't you come take my classes?"

  Meredith began to shake her head, trying desperately to think of an excuse why she couldn't possibly take horse-riding lessons. But Abby was gazing at her with such kind eyes and she seemed so sincere in her desire to donate her time to a worthy cause.

  "Please come," Abby pleaded. "I think I can make it fun for you. And … well, I'd really like the adult company. I'm not that much older than these kids and I'm pretty nervous about trying to teach them," she admitted.

  "I … I guess I can be there," Meredith heard herself saying. For one of the first times in her life, she wanted another person to like her. Somehow, in just a few minutes, she'd really found herself caring about this young woman.

  "Terrific! We start tomorrow after school lets out."

  Abby turned to Cinco again. "The pastor's sending the church van with six or seven kids. I thought I'd use the show barn's corrals for the lessons. I've checked with Jake and he says it'll be okay."

  Abby crossed her arms over her chest as if she was daring her brother to disagree with anything she'd said. "Why don't you show Meredith out to the corral tomorrow afternoon? Then you can just go do … whatever it is you do. I'll take care of her from there and make sure she returns to the main house when we're done."

  Cinco had pretty much guessed how Meredith was feeling while they'd stood out in the corral with his sister and Measles. The unexpected interruption had taken him off guard, so he figured she'd been embarrassed at being caught in such an intimate embrace.

  The look on her face told him that she was probably trying to think of how to get away from his sister—of all people on earth. The fact that Abby had caught them red-handed, so to speak, hadn't bothered him in the least. He'd needed a breather right then. A way to step back before things went entirely too far.

  He really would've liked to help Meredith, she'd looked so lost and miserable standing there with that naming blush spreading across her skin. But that durned Abby was such a chatterbox he simply hadn't been able to get a word in edgewise.

  As he silently walked Meredith toward the main house to clean up for supper, Cinco's thoughts went back and forth between the sister he knew so well and Meredith, the woman he wanted to know a lot better. He wondered if Abby would ever realize how much like their mother she really was.

  His baby sister had taken Kay Gentry's disappearance harder than the rest of them. She'd only been twelve and on the verge of womanhood when their parents left and never came home. After the memorial service Abby had refused to speak of her mother again—ever.

  Cinco remembered only too well that their mother was one of the best ranchers and horsewomen in all of Texas. Tough as nails and capable of every job on the spread, she'd also been the kindest soul and more of a woman than anyone Cinco had ever met. He missed her terribly, but Abby missed her more.

  Somehow Abby had learned the tough and capable part from her mother, but she'd lost the lessons on being a woman—on how to be strong yet gentle at the same time. And as her big brother, he couldn't find a way to help her learn it.

  His thoughts drifted to Meredith as he escorted her up the kitchen steps. Cinco wished he could think of something to say now to wipe away whatever bad feelings or embarrassment she might have left. He sure did wish he'd been smarter about her. He'd thought they were off to a real friendship before … before he made a huge fool of himself by kissing her.

  He figured he was going to have to take time later to mull over the reasons why he'd acted so out of character. Somehow this serious-minded woman brought out an animal passion in him that he'd never experienced. When he'd been with Ellen, and the few women there had been since, he'd had plenty of passion. But the things he'd felt when he'd touched Meredith were—different somehow.

  And because he'd acted with his gut instead of with his brain, he and Meredith were as distant and estranged as they'd been at the beginning. This was no way to treat a client or an old friend of Kyle's. Cinco just had to get his stuff together and find a way to apologize.

  Later. After he had time to think.

  "There's one more casserole left in the freezer. Lupe won't be back to cooking until day after tomorrow," he mumbled to Meredith as he hung up their hats. "I'll stick that casserole in the oven now. If you'll give me some time to clean up, we should be able to eat in about an hour."

  "Will your sister be joining us for dinner?" she asked.

  "No. Abby's decided to stay in a private room off the main bunkhouse. She'll eat supper with the hands. She wants to join in with their routine as much as possible."

  "Oh." Meredith's stilted expression told him that she was still uncomfortable with him. "If I weren't staying with you, would you eat this casserole thing alone?"

  "Probably not. I suppose I'd do what I usually do and grab a sandwich so I could get an early start on my security programming jobs."

  She tried a smile, but failed miserably. He thought she looked so forlorn that he almost wrapped his arms around her for a hug. She'd never allow any such thing of course, and he frankly needed a little more space than that himself.

  "How about if you have your sandwich and go to work then?" she offered. "I'm not hungry and I think I'd just like to read for a while if you don't mind."

  It was the break he'd been looking for, but he felt guilty accepting it so easily. "You're positive you're not hungry? I can fix you a sandwich, too."

  She shook her head, flipped her golden braid over her shoulder and started for the back stairs. "No, thanks. If I get hungry, I can raid the refrigerator later. I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself."

  "Well…" His stomach churned. The very last thing on his mind was food.

  At that moment he knew he wanted her. Wanted more of those mind-blasting kisses. More of the feel and the taste of her. He hadn't gotten his fill. Not by a long shot. But he also knew he shouldn't, and the guilt and indecision was about to kill him.

  "Right. I guess I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, then. I'll meet yo
u here around three. Okay?"

  What a coward he was. He should talk to her about this right now—or at least by later tonight. He should try to find a way to make them both rest easier. They needed to discuss what happened between them and where they were headed from here.

  But he needed some time. Time to figure out just what he really wanted from her, and time to think of how to talk Meredith into giving him something more than just the cold and impersonal time of day.

  By the next afternoon, when Meredith found herself pacing the kitchen floor and waiting for Cinco to show up, she'd come to the conclusion that she'd been right from the beginning. She would've been much better off in a prison.

  She'd always thought of herself as so together. But when the man had rested those deep-brown eyes on her, she felt her nerves jumping wildly. Then, right away, her insides turned to mush—like an overripe banana.

  Sighing and clasping and unclasping her hands as she moved from one end of the room to the other, Meredith once again went over the little speech she'd prepared to give him. He needed to know that she'd been temporarily caught off balance yesterday when she'd kissed him. It was simply the strange surroundings and her fear of horses that had messed her up. She just did not kiss men that she barely knew, and she was determined that it would not happen again.

  She'd decided to tell him that if she must stay on this ranch, she wanted a different guard. The two of them were just like gasoline and flame. It wasn't working.

  Perhaps she could move out to the bunkhouse with Abby. She'd never had a real girlfriend before, and Cinco's sister seemed like someone she could relate to. Someone who liked being physically active but who wouldn't try to control all the people around her.

  Despite the fact that Abby had caught Meredith in the arms of her brother, Meredith thought the younger woman seemed to genuinely like her. Abby might be a whole lot less trouble than Cinco. Meredith should be able to spend time with Abby and, unlike with Cinco, not totally lose her mind.

  Meredith should've told Cinco all this yesterday—on the way back from the corral. But she'd been thrown by his swift changes, from ardent suitor to ecstatic brother and finally to sulky stranger. Last night and this morning she'd had a chance to think it all over.

  He must've been very relieved when his sister showed up and interrupted them. Unable to gauge his true feelings, Meredith wondered if her inexperience had shown through. She hadn't had a lot of practice, after all. Just that one failed affair. Come to think of it, in that relationship she never did much kissing, either.

  Yesterday, Meredith wasn't sure whether or not she'd been glad Abby had shown up to stop their embrace. This afternoon she was positive it had been for the best.

  It had given Cinco a good way to back out of a bad mistake.

  From behind her she heard footsteps on the mudroom floor. Spinning around, she found Cinco hesitating at the threshold to the kitchen. He still had his hat on, and she couldn't see his expression very well, but she was sure that he must be wishing to be anywhere else but here. She knew because that's exactly how she felt at the moment.

  "Hey, there, uh, Frosty," he mumbled.

  The look on her face was so guarded and hesitant that Cinco suddenly felt tongue-tied. All his good intentions and the great speech he'd prepared disappeared as he'd entered the room.

  How was he going to begin this? He'd made the decision to simply go back to being friends. He didn't even want to try to discuss the very powerful sexual attraction between them.

  But once he saw her eyes, he'd been lost. "I, uh…" Nothing that came out of his mouth made any sense.

  All at once he remembered the rose. Maybe that would help break the ice and put him back in good standing.

  He jerked his hand from behind his back where he'd been keeping the flower hidden. "Here." He pushed it toward her. "This is for you."

  He'd expected some reaction. He figured maybe she'd smile and thank him. Or she'd laugh and say how stupid he was to bring a tough-as-nails, ex-Air Force pilot a silly rose.

  But Meredith simply stared down at the flower in his hand with a dark look in her eyes that seemed to resemble fear. She was ramrod still and never took her gaze from the yellow petals. He might as well have been holding out a rattlesnake.

  The longer the silence dragged on, the more he let his own gaze wander down her body. He tried to keep steady and give her the time to say something, but his eyes wanted to drink in the lean, trim form before him.

  Yesterday he hadn't noticed how much the new jeans and tight-fitting Western shirt enhanced her every curve. Her other outfits, the khakis or the sloppy sweats, disguised her figure. But these clothes sexily hugged her body, making him suddenly aroused and wanting to go back to the embraces they'd shared in the corral.

  No way! He had to get a grip. Friends. He'd vowed to be friends.

  Determined to keep himself and the situation under control, he forced his gaze up to her face—and nearly dropped the rose. Huge tears swam in her eyes, a few even leaked out of the corners and down her cheeks. But she remained frozen in place.

  "I didn't mean to make you cry," he said as quietly as possible.

  He didn't know how to handle women that cried. Abby had simply never shed any tears. He couldn't remember ever having seen Ellen shed a tear, either. And his mother—well, maybe he did remember her crying once when she'd been happy.

  But Meredith didn't seem like the type. "It's just a yellow rose of friendship," he explained. "I thought it would make you laugh. I'll throw it away if it upsets you."

  "No!" She sniffed once and reached for the flower in his hand. "I…I…" Carefully taking the rose from him, she put it to her nose and took a deep breath.

  "It's just that I…" she stammered, then cleared her throat. "No one's ever given me a flower before. I don't know what to say."

  "'Thank you' is always good for a start," he remarked with a little too much sarcasm for a friend. "But a smile would be ten times better." He hoped that last bit might save him from being too much of a smart aleck.

  And a smile was really what he'd been after, anyway.

  A little one trembled at the corners of her mouth, and she rubbed at her cheeks to dry the tears. Well, it was a start.

  "Thank you, Cinco. But I don't know if I deserve a present … especially not one meant in friendship."

  He thought she deserved lots of presents. Tons and tons. But he didn't think he'd better mention that right now. Friendship. Cinco needed to keep his mind on track.

  He began the little speech he'd prepared. "I'm sorry that I got carried away yesterday in the corral. I didn't mean to come on quite that strong, and I certainly had no intention of embarrassing you. But you just looked so…"

  Cinco swallowed and started over. "Anyway, I'd like a chance to begin again. I really want to make you happy during your stay on the ranch. I know how difficult the situation is for you, and I thought that if we could develop a friendship the time might go by faster."

  Meredith was perplexed. In the first place, she never cried. It was nonmilitary, childish, and her father would've had none of it.

  In the second place … she'd been just about to tell him that she wanted to move out of here and in with Abby … to stop seeing him altogether.

  Now what was she to do?

  She didn't know what she wanted anymore. She knew all about being buddies with men. Over the years she'd had several friends in the military. But friendship with a controlling cowboy whose kisses tingled all the way to her toes and who'd brought her a flower? He was so different from all the others. Besides, her gut told her that friendship was not what he really wanted from her.

  He jammed his hands on his hips and cocked an eyebrow, waiting for some kind of remark.

  Choosing to ignore her better judgment, she smiled and looked down at the soft-yellow rose in her hand. "All right, Gentry. We can start again. How could I say no to the first man who ever gave me a friendship rose?"

  "Terrific," he beamed.
"Now put the danged flower down. We've got to get going or you'll be late for your class with Abby." He grabbed her arm and led her toward the door.

  Meredith cringed when she remembered where she was headed. This day was turning into one of the most confusing days she'd ever spent. First a rose. Then she'd agreed to a friendship with a man she felt leery about. Now a riding class with a bunch of teenagers.

  Right. Why not? Might as well pile on the misery. No sense her becoming complacent and idle while spending time in this Western-themed prison.

  * * *

  Six

  « ^ »

  "Tell me," Meredith asked as they walked toward the show barn in the brisk breeze of the late-fall afternoon. "How do you know about yellow friendship roses? I've never heard of such things. I thought a rose was … well … just a rose."

  Cinco considered that for a minute. The meanings for the different-colored roses were something he'd always known. Didn't everyone?

  She appeared to be waiting for an answer to her question, so he guessed maybe not everyone knew these things. How did he learn? After another minute's reflection, the answer appeared clearly in his mind's eye with the image of a lavender-smelling, leather-faced old darling. Grandmother Gentry.

  Nanny. How he missed her tender pats and down-home brand of advice.

  "My grandmother was the rose expert," he told Meredith. "Her greatest moments of joy were spent in her garden. When she got too old to do the heavy work, she roped my brother, Cal, and me into doing it for her … and all the while she stood over us 'supervisin' and advisin',' as she used to put it."

  "My," Meredith remarked. "You certainly have some rather colorful women in your family."

  "Yeah, I suppose I do." Cinco gulped down the lump in his throat.

  Meredith's sultry voice vibrated deep inside him, so strong he could almost feel it reverberating in his gut.

  He battled to ignore his body. "Living in such an isolated place as the Gentry Ranch, everyone has to come from sturdy rootstock to survive … especially the women," he told her. "Life on the range isn't for sissies. There are hazards that can kill a person just waiting at every wrong turn.