by Diana Palmer
“In a few minutes. I’ll make breakfast while it’s brewing.”
Luke took his place at the table, not to rush Maris with breakfast but because he wanted to watch her, and the chairs around the table were the only things to sit on. After several silent minutes he said, “Guess we’re going to be alone on the place today.”
Maris concentrated on her pancake batter rather than look at him. “I can deal with that.”
“But maybe I can’t.”
Maris’s heart skipped a beat. “You have work to do and so do I. Keith being away should make no difference to our day.”
“Is he going to be gone all day?”
“I…don’t know,” she said.
“And you talk about me being evasive,” Luke said with a snort of derision.
Maris turned to face him. “Last night you asked me for honesty, so here it is. I’m getting in too deep with you, and if we don’t stop…uh, sleeping together, it’s going to hurt like hell when you leave.”
His gaze remained steady. “And you didn’t think about that before coming to my room last night?”
A flush heated Maris’s cheeks. Her confession could only go so far. Mentioning her hope of getting pregnant would shock him and humiliate herself. “Obviously not,” she replied, turning back to the counter.
She was right, Luke was thinking with a frown of personal discomfort. This thing with Maris wasn’t one of those brief and expendable affairs that dotted his past. Its differences weren’t readily grasped or understood, but they bothered Luke all the same. Maris bothered him. This ranch bothered him. Everything going on these days bothered him. He watched broodingly while she poured pancake batter onto the hot griddle. It would be best for both of them if he left now, before, as she’d said, they got in too deep.
“Maris, would you rather I left right away?” he asked.
Her back was to him and she bit down hard on her bottom lip. Instead of suggesting he never left, he had immediately come up with leaving sooner than planned. Hurt over his insensitivity, she said rather caustically, “You’re thinking I have the money to pay that IOU, aren’t you?”
“No, that is not what I was thinking. But I guess it’s true, isn’t it?”
Maris scooped up some pancakes with a spatula and dropped them on a plate, which she brought to the table and set down in front of him. She spoke without friendliness or warmth. “We have a business agreement, Luke. If you left now, I’d be stuck with a herd of half-broken horses.”
“I think Keith could finish the job. They wouldn’t be ready for sale by the end of September, but he knows what to do now. I’m only mentioning it for your benefit. If you don’t want me around anymore, you have the means to send me packing. And don’t forget that Jim Humphrey will be showing up with the balance due on the Corvette.”
“He seems to be taking his own sweet time about it.”
“Jim’s rarely in a hurry. He’ll be around one of these days.”
The thought of Luke loading his pickup with his gear and driving away today made Maris feel a little sick. She wasn’t ready for that yet. Beside, maybe Keith could finish breaking the horses and maybe he couldn’t. Certainly the process would take him much longer than it would Luke, especially after school started and Keith was busy with his studies.
Maris brought two cups of coffee to the table, gave one to Luke and sat down with the other. “I don’t want you leaving until after the horse auction,” she said with a granitelike look over the rim of her cup. “That doesn’t mean we have to…to…”
“Just say it, for hell’s sake,” Luke said with a flash of anger. “We made love, and don’t get all surprised and shook if we do it again.” He hadn’t even started eating, and he leaned forward, ignoring the plate of food between his elbows. “Do you know what makes one woman special to a man? I sure as hell don’t, but I do know this—I want you all the time and that’s never happened to me before. Last night makes me think you’re going through some of the same damned misery. Tell me I’m wrong.”
She took a breath. “You’re wrong.”
Luke’s expression could have curdled milk. “I guess that’s clear enough.” He got to his feet. “I’m going to work.”
“What about breakfast? You didn’t eat anything.”
“I’m not hungry.” He strode from the kitchen and out the door, every line of his body exuding fury and frustration. Maris sat looking down at the table, undergoing some of that “damned misery” Luke had mentioned. Maybe it was masculine logic for him to say he wanted her and almost at the same time suggest leaving today instead of after the horses were broken, but it was pure gibberish to her. Maybe because she was falling for the big jerk. Falling too hard, too fast. This was the last possible scenario she could have dreamed up while making that deal with Luke.
It occurred to Maris while she was taking care of chores around the ranch and avoiding the corral that morning that she hated worrying about what Luke really thought of her. In the first place she already knew how he felt. She’d been available and willing, and he was male. End of subject.
But deep within her the subject was far from exhausted. She had crossed a line with Luke that had always been inviolate, and why had she been so responsive to him when other men—Judd, for one—simply hadn’t interested her beyond friendship? Even before Ray’s death and she had been alone so much there had been opportunities for sexual adventures with other men, and she had always repelled any and all advances. It was as though she had lost some sense of herself where Luke was concerned, which was a mystifying deviation from personal standards and ethics that she didn’t find particularly comforting.
Then there was that foolishness about hoping to get pregnant and passing the child off as Ray’s. Maris knew she had behaved stupidly with Ray many times. In retrospect, what good had come out of her turning a blind eye to his faithlessness, his lack of respect for her and his own roots, his dishonesty, and his out and out laziness? Rather than fight with him about a problem—he’d been extremely adroit at sidestepping an ordinary discussion hinting at any flaw or fault in his behavior—Maris had simply buried her pain and kept her mouth shut.
But thinking she could use Luke to get pregnant with no one catching on really was the most absurd idea of her life, far surpassing any mistakes she had made with Ray. Obviously the day that Luke finally left the No Bull, Maris Wyler would be much better off.
The stickler in that conclusion was Maris’s own emotions. Never before had she felt what she did in Luke’s arms. Just looking at him across the compound sent feverish tingles through her body. Wishing he were a different kind of man, one who was looking for solidity and stability, was wasted energy. He was addicted to rodeo, and to living a transient, disorderly life. No woman would change him, she was certain, especially a plain countrywoman like herself.
When Luke didn’t come in for lunch, Maris brought some sandwiches and a thermos of lemonade out to the corral. “I know you’re angry with me, but you have to eat.” He was shirtless again, and his bronzed skin gleamed with perspiration. Maris tried not to notice.
He took the food from her hands. “Thanks. And I’m not angry, Maris—I’m confused. I guess I don’t understand you. Maybe what’s really got me confused is that I don’t usually try to understand women.” He held her gaze. “Does that make any sense to you?”
“Uh…no. I mean, should it?”
Releasing a long breath of resignation, Luke looked off into the distance. “Probably not. It’s just that…” His voice trailed off. “Forget it. Do you want one of these sandwiches?”
“I already ate, thanks.” Maris looked beyond Luke into the corral and saw the snow-white mare he’d been working with. “She’s a pretty horse, isn’t she?”
“I’ve been calling her Snowflake.”
“It suits her. I like it. Is she taking to the training?”
“Pretty well. She definitely has spirit.”
“You know,” Maris said speculatively, “I’d kind of like to keep one or t
wo of the horses for myself.”
“Snowflake might be a good candidate. We’ll see how she turns out. Maris…” Luke had just swallowed a big bite of sandwich and was washing it down with a drink of lemonade. He wiped his mouth. “I’ve been wondering again where Ray might have bought these horses. They’re not just common broncs. Oh, a few of them are, but most have great conformation, indicating good bloodlines. Do you realize that if you could prove ancestry on some of these animals that their value could easily double or triple?”
Maris’s eyes widened. “How would I prove ancestry?”
“By finding out who owned the horses before Ray bought them. You said a trucking firm handled their delivery. You must have been given something, a receipt, a manifest, bills of sale, something, from the truckers.”
A frown creased Maris’s forehead. “Ray took delivery. As a matter of fact, I wasn’t here that day. I had gone to Billings for something—a dental appointment, I think.”
“But there must be some paperwork somewhere, Maris. I think you should take a look around the house and try to find it.”
Slowly Maris nodded. “And then what?”
“If you can find out who owned these horses before Ray bought them, we’ll go and talk to the person and ask him or her about the animals’ history. Might get some real good information.”
Maris frowned slightly. “I should have thought of doing that before this.”
“You’ve had a lot on your mind,” Luke reminded her.
“Yes, but…” Breathing a sigh, Maris questioned her ability to run the ranch, which she’d never done before. Raising animals had been brand-new to her when she’d married Ray and come here, but when it became apparent—very quickly—that Ray had very little interest in operating the place as it should be operated, she had gradually assumed his duties and responsibilities, until she had ended up running the whole show. Obviously she still didn’t see every opportunity and grasp every subtlety of profitable ranching. Surprising to realize was that Luke did. He’d immediately seen dollar signs in Ray’s old junk and had suggested the yard sale. It was Luke’s doing that had sold the Corvette, and now he’d come up with this, an idea that just might increase the value of the horses.
Her voice was rather disapproving when she spoke. “You’d make a good rancher.”
Luke looked at her with a restrained, unreadable expression, though without question he’d grasped Maris’s reproachful tone. “It must be in the genes.”
Resenting his overly casual, cavalier reply, Maris couldn’t stop herself from expressing her opinion. “You’re wasting your life in rodeo. You’re talented with animals and have a natural instinct for business. There isn’t anything you couldn’t do if you put your mind to it. Certainly you’re the hardest-working man I’ve ever met, and—”
“That’s enough, Maris,” Luke broke in. He’d been having some of the same thoughts that Maris had just put into words, but his mind wasn’t made up yet, not about anything, and whatever decision he arrived at concerning his future, he was the one who had to make it. He handed her the empty thermos. “Thanks for lunch. I’m going back to work.”
Walking to the house, Maris alternated between anger over Luke’s wasting his talents and regret that she’d been so quick to tell him so. She didn’t even speak to Keith in that censuring tone, believing that everyone should have the freedom and space to choose his own path in life. But Keith was sixteen years old and had plenty of time to make those choices, where Luke was old enough that he should already have done so.
He has done so, a voice in Maris’s head said loud and clear. Indeed he’d chosen his path years ago, and why would he veer from it now?
Sighing despondently, Maris went into the house. Like it or not, sensible or not, she had feelings for Luke Rivers that she wished she could eliminate with a toss of her head, or something equally as mundane. In the depths of her soul, she knew it wasn’t going to happen.
One of the bedrooms in Maris’s house never had contained a bed from the time she’d moved in. Ray had used it as a combination storage room and office, haphazard as his record keeping had been, and though Maris had gone through some of the boxes and thrown out things she considered useless—even while Ray was alive—the room still couldn’t be considered well organized. It was, in fact, the only room in the house that Maris didn’t keep neat and clean at all times. It was where her Christmas decorations were stored, for one thing, and numerous other cartons containing seldom-used items.
There was also a desk—a huge old thing with a dozen drawers—and two file cabinets. Maris was digging through the drawers, looking for some scrap of paper from that trucking company, when she suddenly sat back, impatient and unsettled with herself and everything else going on at the present. In fact, what she really was, she thought unhappily, was depressed—depressed because she’d gone to Luke’s bed last night, and because he was outside and she couldn’t stop thinking of him. Her future was so miserably uncertain, which added to her depression, and the thought of going through all of the boxes and files in this room made her want to bawl, another indication of the depression gripping her.
Knowing that if she sat there much longer she’d fall apart completely, she got up and left the room, closing the door behind her. She’d look for those papers, but not today. What she needed right now, desperately, was to go somewhere, to get away from the ranch and Luke and responsibility, if only for an afternoon.
After changing from her jeans and T-shirt to a pair of white slacks and a green blouse, she quickly applied a little makeup and ran a brush through her hair. Grabbing her purse, she dashed from the house and out to her pickup.
Luke saw her leaving and stood in the corral with a scowl on his face. In his mind’s eye he saw her meeting Judd Hensley again.
But last night she’d come from Hensley to him, which had to mean something. Maris wasn’t the kind of woman to keep two men on the string, so it was doubtful that she’d be meeting the sheriff again today. Luke had no prior experience with jealousy, yet he recognized the condition in his body and didn’t like it.
Sighing heavily, once again admitting utter confusion, he returned to work.
The simple act of driving away from the ranch gave Maris’s spirit a decided lift. She loved this wide open country, she loved its distant mountains and enormous sky. The air was so clean and clear it seemed to sparkle.
Maris switched on the radio and drove with the window open, enjoying the music and the warm breezes tossing her hair around. Though she’d left without a destination in mind, she automatically headed for Whitehorn. Everyone that she might want to see was at work, which was probably best, she thought, as she really wasn’t fit company in her present mood, though unquestionably she felt much better than she had a half-hour ago.
Still, she didn’t feel like talking, answering questions, or pretending that everything was wonderful, which would certainly be the case should she run into any of her friends. Other than Lori, that is. With Lori she could be honest and herself.
Except, Maris remembered with a pang of genuine remorse, she had deliberately lied to Lori about the possibility of her being pregnant. It was Luke’s fault, she thought with an angry twist to her lips. Everything happening lately was Luke’s fault. Damn Ray for borrowing money from Luke and not paying it back! Without that IOU, Luke never would have come to the ranch. She would never have made love with him, or never gotten that stupid idea about having his baby, or…
Cynically Maris shook her head. Everything wasn’t Luke’s fault—it was Ray’s! God, she was going off the deep end, looking for someone, anyone, to blame for her own sins. What she should be doing is giving thanks that Luke had come along. Without his help, she’d have been in such terrible financial condition by now that she might have already lost the ranch.
Reaching the outskirts of Whitehorn, Maris slowed the pickup to the speed limit and slowly cruised Center Avenue. On impulse she made a right turn on Kinsey Way and pulled into the movie theat
er’s parking lot, which was all but vacant, as the theater didn’t have matinees during the week.
Leaving the truck, Maris began walking. Again she had no destination in mind, but it was pleasant strolling along and peering at the courthouse, the mayor’s office and into the windows of Whitehorn’s few shops that sold clothing. It was long past the lunch hour, so as Maris approached the Hip Hop Café, she figured the odds were in her favor for not running into anyone she knew.
She went in and was glad to see only a few patrons, none of whom she recognized.
“Hi,” a waitress called. “Sit wherever you’d like, ma’am. As you can see, this isn’t exactly the rush hour.”
“Thanks,” Maris called back, and chose a table in the far corner. She ordered a piece of apple pie and a cup of coffee from the friendly waitress. The pie was delicious, and Maris was thoroughly enjoying it, when the café’s door opened and a woman came in. Maris had met Mary Jo Kincaid one time, but she doubted that Mary Jo even remembered the introduction, so it was quite a shock to see the woman suddenly spotting her and then walking over to her table showing a warm and friendly smile.
“Maris, how are you?” Mary Jo asked in her sweet way.
“Just fine, Mary Jo. How are you?”
“It just wouldn’t be possible for me to be any better, Maris. I’m so very, very happy married to Dugan. You were at our wedding, weren’t you?”
Maris’s heart sank with undeserved embarrassment. Didn’t the woman know whom she’d invited to her own wedding? “No,” she said simply, hoping Mary Jo would realize her own faux pas and drop the subject.
“Oh, that’s too bad. It was quite an affair,” Mary Jo said in a way that implied that Maris had deliberately missed Whitehorn’s event of the year. Maris frowned slightly but her own good nature prevented her from correcting Mary Jo’s mistaken impression.
The woman was hovering, obviously hoping for an invitation to join her, Maris realized uneasily. “Uh…would you like to sit down?”
“I would indeed. Thank you.” Mary Jo pulled out a chair and gracefully sank onto it, laying her expensive-looking handbag on a corner of the table. “My, this is nice. I was hoping someone would be here that I know.” She looked up at the waitress, who had just appeared. “Oh, there you are. I’ll have a small bowl of sugar-free gelatin and a pot of herbal tea, please.”