by Lois Greiman
“Yeah,” Ty said, straightening.
“Must be a rash of stupid red pickup drivers,” Nate continued. “’Cuz look. Says here Peter Dicks was sued for busting down some old lady’s mailbox on April twelfth.” He glanced up. “Wasn’t that the day you were in town?”
Ty scowled. “Peter Dicks. Bill’s kid? You mean he was the son of a bitch that nearly killed us?”
“Looks like it. Works at the plant here in town now.” Nate snorted. “Always was dumber than a pile of rocks.”
“And drunk half the time. I should—”
“Can I…can I see that?” Hannah asked. She felt faint and her hand shook slightly when she reached across the table for the newspaper. Staring at the picture of the man and the pickup, she scrambled for reality. It was a distinctive vehicle, an antique probably, restored to a bright cherry finish with big rounded fenders and acres of shining chrome. Moving her gaze from the photo, she skimmed the article, then stared at the picture again. The chances against there being another vehicle like this in such a small town were astronomical. “So this Peter Dicks—he’s local?” she asked, her heart beating like running hooves.
“Did you say local or loco?” Nate asked.
“Yeah.” Ty was watching her closely. She could feel the intensity of his gaze on her face. “He’s local. He was a couple years behind me in school. Moved off the farm a while back. Why?”
Silence echoed around her.
“So he’s…” She paused, knowing she’d look nuttier than a fruitcake if she asked what she wanted to. Was Peter in the habit of hiring out as a hit man? Could he have been paid to kill her? Even in her mind, the idea sounded like lunacy. She almost laughed out loud with her rampaging relief. “He’s…so what’s he like?” she asked, still grasping at straws.
“Stupid,” Nate said, distracted now, since their meals had arrived.
“Reckless,” Ty said, still watching her, his eyes narrowed. “He’s always been reckless.”
“So it was just an accident,” she said, and knew without. a doubt that she was right. All her worry had been for nothing.
“What?”
She glanced up and met Ty’s gaze. His expression was solemn, his eyes worried. Her heart turned over. The past few days had been horrible. Trying to figure out what to do. Trying to convince herself that she was safe. That Ty was safe. That just knowing her hadn’t put his life in jeopardy.
“It was just an accident,” she said, her voice breaking with the painful relief of tension. The man she’d seen in the hotel had borne a passing resemblance to the person who had attacked her in LA. So? Half the American male population did. But she’d panicked, run outside, and nearly gotten squashed by a passing pickup truck. It sounded as ridiculous as a country-and-western song. Too ridiculous to be anything but the truth. She felt suddenly giddy and couldn’t help but throw her arms around Ty, hugging him close, closing her eyes against his chest.
“Hannah.” He murmured her name.
She drew away with a laugh.
“What’s going on?” Ty asked.
“Nothing. I was…” At a loss for words and slaphappy with relief. “I was just being silly. You know…” No, they didn’t know. She could tell that by their expressions. And it was a good thing they didn’t. “It just spooked me, that’s all. There’s been so much going on. Cranky mauling me. The pickup thing…” Both men stared at her. She laughed. Tyrol’s life wasn’t in danger. “But it was just an accident.”
“Yeah, just an accident,” Nate said, widening his eyes and clearly saying he had no idea what she was talking about “Let’s eat.”
She turned nervously toward her salad. Realizing how loony she was behaving, she tried to act natural now.
“Dammit, Hannah,” Ty said, his voice deep. “I want some answers.”
“It’s nothing.” She felt her face flush and knew Ty had run out of patience. “I just…I just had these wild imaginings that someone was out to get me. Silly.” She tried a laugh. It didn’t sound too bad. “Probably comes from living too long in—”
She stopped herself just in time.
Ty’s gaze all but bore a hole in her.
“Colorado,” she finished lamely.
His frown was not pretty.
Nate was watching them like a hawk as he chewed. “Hey,” he said, his tone bright. “Now that we got that straightened out, why don’t you team with Ty, Hannah?”
“What?” She turned rapidly toward him, grateful for any diversion. But what the devil was he talking about?
“I’m not going to be roping for a while,” he said, pointing toward his cast with his fork. “Why don’t you and Ty team rope together?”
Hannah blinked. Ty glowered. Nate grinned.
“It’s a great idea, brother. She’s a natural. Got an eye like an eagle. Lula hardly knows she’s in the saddle. Well, hell!” He chewed for a moment. “You saw her. Oh—” He took a big slurp of milk. “You owe her one of them English saddles.”
“And she owes me some answers,” Ty growled.
“I’ll do it.” Hannah hadn’t meant to say that, but she had to do something to turn the conversation. Ty was still glaring at her. She could feel his gaze on the heat of her face. “I mean, after all, it’s my fault Nate can’t rope.”
“Who did you think was in that red pickup?” Tyrel asked.
She paused a moment, then forced a laugh as she turned to him. “No one. How would I know?”
“Then why were you so scared?”
“I told you. I was just being silly.”
“Tell me the truth.”
“The truth is, I’m not hurt and I’m ready to learn to team rope. Right now,” she said, and standing up, made a quick retreat from the restaurant.
Four hours later Nate was parked on the couch with Pansy hovering over him like a grouchy hen.
Hannah recognized an old movie on the television. Her father had taken particular pride in that one. But the lines sounded rather stiff to her now.
“You must leave before it’s too late,” said the hero with resounding drama.
“Are you going to be okay?” Hannah asked Nate.
“Truth is, I don’t think I can take much more of this dessert.” He grinned around a mouthful of apple cobbler. “And TV and stuff. I’m dying to go shovel shit.”
She left with a chuckle. A short while later she was cleaning stalls. Her relief had bordered on euphoria, but now the worries settled in. She’d been acting like a lunatic since the accident and though Tyrel had refrained from asking her any more questions on the way home, he was likely to want some—
“So what the hell was that all about?”
She turned with a start, only to find Tyrel watching her from the doorway. He was leaning up against the jamb, his expression angry, his face so alluring that for a moment she couldn’t breathe.
His eyes were as dark as Colombian coffee and his lips strangely sensual against such a granite jaw. Despite her best efforts she could remember every moment of those lips against hers.
“You know, Hannah…” He straightened. “I’d think you could afford to give me one straight answer.”
She marshaled her senses. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you?” He stepped restlessly into the stall. “So you’ve forgotten all about our night in town?”
She couldn’t hold his gaze, and turned nervously back to her job, but he didn’t go away. She could feel his attention on her face.
“Or didn’t it mean anything to you?” he asked.
His voice was soft now, and she could do nothing but turn to him with her breath held and her heart in her throat.
“Is that what you think?” she murmured.
The barn was silent for a moment, then he said, “I don’t know what to think. I don’t know who you are. I don’t know why you’re here.”
“I’m here for the job,” she said, able to come up with no better answer with his hot attention turned on her. Able to
give nothing away.
“Damn the job!” he swore. “Who are you?”
They stared at each other from inches apart.
“It doesn’t matter who I am. It doesn’t matter what my name is, or where I’m from. For the first time in my life, it doesn’t matter. Don’t you understand that? I’m just me.”
A muscle jumped angrily in his jaw. “Well, it matters to me,” he said. “I don’t like to be lied to, to be used, manipulated like a—”
“I didn’t use you.”
He snorted. “You’ve been making me dance like a damn circus horse. It must’ve been fun watching me moon over you. Seeing me make a fool of myself as you spread your clever lies.”
“I didn’t—”
“Yeah? Where’re you from, Hannah?”
She winced. She didn’t like to lie, but neither did she like the thought of being murdered by a thug who called himself Lucky Lindy. And all because of one rude remark she’d made to the man. He did look like a toad. “Colorado,” she said.
“What town?”
“Uh, Aspen.”
“How long have you lived there?”
For a moment she tried to think of another lie, but finally her temper broke. “That’s none of your business.”
“Where’d you get that accent? What does your dad do? What’s your real name?”
“Hannah…Nelson,” she said defiantly.
“Yeah? Let me see your driver’s license.”
She drew a deep breath. “I will not.”
“You must have one. You were driving. Is the Rabbit registered in your name?”
She paused. “Of course.”
“Then who is Stone Gardner?”
She felt her jaw drop. Stone Gardner, her father’s current protégé, and the former owner of the Rabbit. “You’ve been snooping around in my personal—”
“I wasn’t snooping. The registration was in the glove compartment. I saw it when I, uh, hauled it out back.” He sounded defensive and angry all at once. “So who is he, Hannah? Your husband?”
She gasped. “You think I’d sleep with you if—”
“But of course he’s not your husband,” he said, pacing the narrow confines of the stall, “because you were a virgin. But I didn’t know that You didn’t see fit to share that little piece of information with me. So I’m wondering, who could this Stone Gardner be? It doesn’t sound like a real name. More like something you’d see on the credits of a B movie.” He took another step closer. “Who is he, Hannah?” he asked, grabbing her arm.
“That’s none of your business either.”
“Yeah?” He barked a harsh laugh. “According to you none of it’s my business. Call me eccentric, but I like to know who I’m hiring. Hell, sometimes I even like to know who I’m sleeping with.”
“Well, you can rest easy,” she said, jerking her arm from his grasp. “Because it sure won’t be me.”
He stared at her, his eyes hard. “Damn straight,” he said, storming out of the barn.
HANNAH LUNGED the leggy gray around the outdoor arena one more time. And one more time she glanced down the road as the filly circled at the end of the nylon line. Where was Tyrel? He’d been gone since before breakfast.
Not that she cared. He’d acted like a jerk two nights ago when she’d last talked to him, and he could damn well stay gone till hell thawed, which it seemed to be doing.
The sun felt warm on her face. The filly spooked from Sean who sat on the fence watching them with his eerie feline eyes. The lunge line drooped. Hannah snapped it, and the gray swerved away, allowing her handler’s thoughts to drift again.
So what if Tyrel Fox was gone? So what if he was angry? She was Allissa Vandegard.
Or was she? Glancing over the top rail of the arena, she absorbed the wide, rolling country around her. There was something here. Something she’d never had before, something that touched her heart and quieted her soul. But what would it be without Tyrel? Without his smile? His laughter? The way he scowled into his pitch-black coffee as if it held the key to the world’s problems.
She sighed.
The filly started, dragging her attention back to the business at hand. It was then that she noticed Ty’s pickup turning into the yard.
Her heart rate bumped up a pace and her hands tightened on the nylon line. The filly fell to a walk, and Hannah allowed it as she struggled not to stare at the pickup. But she failed. In a moment the Jimmy rolled up beside the fence and stopped.
Hannah held her breath as Ty stepped out He rounded the pickup, his muscular legs hugged by faded jeans, his torso wrapped in a soft flannel shirt, rolled up at the wrists, tucked in at his hard waist.
Without the slightest effort, she could remember how hard, how firm, how fine and sweet and…
“Do you have a minute?”
His voice sent a smoky curl down into her belly. She managed a nod, then unsnapped the line from the halter, setting the yearling free to cavort on her own.
Stepping to the passenger side of the pickup, Ty opened the door. Hannah ducked between the rails and strode up to him.
Lying on the Navajo blanket that covered the bench seat, was an English saddle. It was German made, the leather soft as a glove, the seat fitted like a spoon.
Tyrel cleared his throat. “The fellow at the tack shop said it was top of the line.” His eyes, when she dared look at them, were as soft as nightfall.
“They had this in Valley Green?”
“He, uh…he ordered it in for me.”
Her throat tightened with emotion. “When?”
For a moment she thought he might not answer. Turning his head, he gazed past the arena to the hills beyond. “Well, hell, Hannah, I’m not as big a fool as I seem.”
She didn’t know what that meant, but her throat hurt and her eyes stung with unshed tears.
He glanced back at her. Their gazes caught.
“I knew you wasn’t going to lose that bet. Not you. But it bought me a couple more weeks with you.”
She swallowed. “Thank you.” Her fingers lay against the soft-grained leather of the cantle.
“Yeah, well,” he said, clearing his throat. “This is just for Maverick, you know. It don’t mean you’re going to get out of roping with me. If you still want to.”
“I still want to.”
He remained still for a moment, then finally nodded before reaching past her into the pickup and pulling out a package. “I got you a couple things.” Their arms brushed as his straightened. Hannah held her breath. He paused for a moment, found his line of thought and pulled out a lariat. “Your own rope. A little lighter, three-eighths of an inch. Nate says you’re real quick. But it’ll improve your time maybe.”
She loved him. Dear Lord! How had that happened?
He pulled his gaze away again. “And gloves. To keep your hands from…” He drew a heavy breath. “I may not know much about you, but I know you got nice soft hands.” The words were barely whispered.
Memories of their one night together steamed through her. Touch, whispers, ecstasy. In his eyes, she saw the same thoughts.
He pulled himself out of the reverie. Yanking the tags off the gloves, he opened one pliable deer hide and held it for her. She slid her hand in. But he didn’t draw away. Instead, he held it in both of his.
“I’m sorry.” The words were very soft, his eyes as deep as forever. “You’re right. Your name doesn’t matter, Hannah. I’m just…I’m scared is what I am.”
Scared? Him? She would have laughed if she didn’t feel like crying. How many times had he saved her life both literally and figuratively?
“If you leave…” He glanced up, over her head. She watched a muscle tighten in his jaw. “When you leave—”
“And what if I don’t?” She couldn’t stop the words, couldn’t help thinking the crazy thoughts that drowned her. Here was where she belonged. Right here.
“Don’t say it.” His eyes were intense, hard as shell, yet just as fragile. “Don’t say it unless yo
u mean it.”
“I’m still here, aren’t I?” she asked softly.
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat, and turned his gaze away. “Yeah, you are,” he said, his tone becoming brusque. “And I’m paying you good money. So you’d best get to work.”
BUT WHAT THEY DID couldn’t be called work. Oh, he tacked up Lula and Hannah mounted. But as soon as the first steer was let loose, he called her back.
“You gotta let the horse do the work,” he said, motioning her to get down. “Lula here, she’s been roping steers since before you was born. She knows just how it’s done.” Moving past Hannah, he threw up the stirrup and stripped off the saddle and pad. “Hop on up.”
“Bareback?”
“Yeah, I’ll give you a leg up.”
“I’m not a great bareback rider.”
“Really?” They were standing very close. So close she could feel his warmth, hi. otion. “Then I’ll ride with you. Make sure you don’t fall oft.”
Her breathing escalated.
He cleared his throat. “It’s the best way,” he said seriously. “To feel the movement of the horse under you.”
“Oh.” Sure, she could believe that. Tandem bareback. Her heart was thumping.
He pulled his gaze away, and had no trouble mounting without the aid of stirrups. Getting Hannah on in front of him was a little trickier. But finally she was settled between his thighs.
She’d thought she’d felt his heat before. Now the warmth traveled up her body like wildfire.
“Yeah, this is, uh…this is better,” he said, trapping her between his arms as he reached for the reins.
“Yeah.”
“I mean, for teaching you how to gauge the steers.”
“But, Ty,” she said, not turning to look into his face, “there’s no one to let them out.”
“Oh.” He cleared his throat as his arms tightened around her. “Well, maybe we’ll just take a ride in the pasture then.”
The afternoon sped by like a summer breeze. The sun was warm against Hannah’s skin. Ty’s voice was deep and low, evoking a thousand feelings that were only enhanced by his touch, the feel of his fingers against her hand, the warmth of his hard thighs behind hers.