“I know. She said it because she was concerned for you. But…I don’t intend to hurt you, Rachel. Neither do I intend to set foot in town.”
Rachel opened her mouth to speak. Shane stepped forward and gently laid two fingers over her lips.
“No,” he said. “Just no. Go to town, Rachel. Buy what ever you like for the house and charge it to me. But I won’t be going. That’s final.”
Or so he thought. He started to step away and she placed her hand—very lightly—on his bare arm. Sensation sizzled through him. What was that about? They were having a discussion, a painful discussion, and even then the woman’s touch affected him. He did his best to ignore it, because if there was one thing these past few moments had brought home to him it was how close he was coming to leaving yet another person damaged. It could happen so easily if he didn’t watch himself. Rachel acted tough at times, but she was held together with visibly fragile threads and she was here alone. There was no one to watch out for her.
Except for him. Someone needed to watch her back. He intended to make sure she was protected, even if it was from himself. So he looked down at where her fingers lay against his skin, trying to reestablish the employer/employee relationship. She was usually so conscientious about that stuff. He was sure she would back off, and then he could erect some walls around himself…which would be the best thing for her.
To his surprise, she didn’t let go, although she did look very self-conscious about touching him. “Shane, I think this is a mistake. Whatever you said or did…you should never leave a place without settling your debts and doing whatever you can to make sure that everyone is happy.”
“Is that another of your teacher’s ‘one size fits all’ lessons?”
Her color rose high, but she didn’t back down. “No, it’s all Rachel Everly. Just something I learned at a very early age.”
He had no clue what she was saying, but he knew for certain that somehow someone had hurt Rachel. And it wasn’t just that jerk Dennis. The look in her eyes told him that this was a very personal lesson.
So, despite his best intentions, he slid one hand beneath her hair and gently rubbed his thumb across her lips. “Rachel, that’s what I’m trying to do. I’m trying to make sure that I leave everyone here as happy as is possible.”
“But they want to see you. They want your company. That’s…such a gift. It’s so special. I would—”
The intensity in her voice and the fact that she couldn’t continue…what was that about? Shane realized once again that Rachel hadn’t shared any real information about her past, and—amazingly—he realized that he wanted to know, even though knowing more of Rachel probably wasn’t wise.
Still, he wouldn’t pry. He more than most understood the need for emotional walls. “What would you do?” he coaxed, releasing her.
She shook her head. “What I would do doesn’t really matter, does it? I’m the impulsive one, the one who ended up stranded here with no money.”
“Don’t,” he warned with a scowl. “Don’t demean yourself. You have a ‘forge ahead’ attitude and a gift for finding joy in the small moments in life that most people lack. If we could bottle that…people would pay buckets of money for it. We could all use a little Rachel in our lives.”
And there it was, that beautiful blush that revealed the innocence beneath her “I can be anything” exterior.
But as the blush faded she crossed her arms. “I see what you’re doing. You’re trying to turn all businessman, all salesman on me, so that I’ll leap for the compliment and forget that we were talking about you.”
He raised one eyebrow. “Was that what I was doing?”
“You know it was.”
She was wrong. He hadn’t been trying to trick her. He’d meant every word. But he knew why she would think that. Trust was a fragile element and her trust had been broken. Maybe more than once, judging from the things she was leaving unsaid.
“You’re wrong. Believe me.” But he knew that she wouldn’t. And why should she? Everything she’d been told about him urged her not to trust. And everything she’d been told was absolutely true.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “What matters is that… Shane, you have neighbors who want to see you. They like you. Do you really want to turn away from that?”
And they were back to him, back to doors he had locked and didn’t want to open. “I’m doing what I need to do, Rachel.”
This time he managed to walk away. And this time she didn’t try to get him to stay.
“What’s going on out there at the ranch? Looks like you and Shane are setting up house,” the woman at the register said to Rachel. Her name tag said that she was Cynthia Corvellis. To Rachel she was the enemy, if she was going to start spreading rumors about Shane.
Rachel forced a stiff smile. The part of her that was smart and sensible knew that she should just leave the store now, but the other part of her that had never been able to back down from ugly situations was out in full force today. She knew why, too. It was because Shane had complimented her during their argument and—Jupiter and Juno—warmth had slipped through her. She’d wanted to believe him. Worse, she’d wanted to touch him.
All of that was wrong. Believing compliments had gotten her in trouble before. Forgetting that Shane was her boss and only her boss was going to end up in big, big, heart-killing trouble. And here was this woman implying that she and Shane were…were doing it when that was just never going to happen in this lifetime. Nothing was going to happen between her and Shane, ever, unless you counted her nearly killing him with her meals twice a day. Having this Cynthia person fishing for spicy gossip today…it just crossed a line.
Rachel leaned over the counter slightly. She lowered her voice. “What would you think if I told you yes? Shane and I are getting married.”
Cynthia blinked. “For real? He’s settling down? Here? With you?” Her tone made it clear that she would be less surprised to see aliens from some distant planet walking around town.
And yet, when a smile of pure pleasure slipped over the woman’s face, all the spunk and nasty slipped right out of Rachel. What was wrong with her? Why would she say something like that to this total stranger? “No. I’m very sorry. I was just…I lied. I’m only Shane’s house keeper, and I’m just here to buy curtains for his house because the ones there look as if someone put them through a cheese-shredder.”
To her surprise, Cynthia reached out and patted her on the shoulder. “I know why you lied. He’s a real hard man to love, isn’t he, hon?”
Rachel blinked. “I—I don’t love Shane.”
But it was obvious that Cynthia didn’t believe her by the pitying look in her eyes. “I’ve done more than my share of comforting the girls Shane has left behind in my time. He never stays.”
Wasn’t that almost exactly what Ruby had told her? What was wrong with the women of Moraine? Rachel wondered. The ones who fell for Shane and those who comforted them when things fell through? If she was in love with Shane and he left her, she certainly wouldn’t go crying to every other woman in town.
No, you would just quietly cry into your pillow every night. You’d deal with your broken heart by yourself. And right there, in Cynthia Corvellis’s Handy House store, Rachel realized just how much danger she was sliding into. Already she was beginning to care about the man, barging into his business, looking forward to when he came in for lunch. She could almost feel the pain of losing Shane this very minute. Which was wrong. It couldn’t be happening. She was not going to allow herself to care. No.
“Shane’s not a bad man,” Cynthia was telling her. “He’s just not the marrying kind. The world needs all kinds, including men who don’t settle down and who raise a little hell now and then. And…what can I say? He’s ours. It’s been years since I’ve really seen him. I’d like to say hello. Any chance you could talk him into coming into the store?”
Rachel opened her mouth to say no. “I’m not sure,” she said instead. Idiot!
“He used to come here with his mother when she shopped for dry goods,” Cynthia went on, a smile lighting her face. “I always had licorice whips on the counter and I always gave him one when they left the store. He was the cutest little boy and he loved those things. His eyes would positively light up. But…I guess he’s too old for licorice whips now.”
She sounded so wistful that Rachel found herself saying, “I’ll bet he still loves them.” And then she asked Cynthia to help her pick out some curtains. It was the least she could do, since she had made up that awful lie and since her attempts to bring Shane to Moraine had failed.
When she was through, Cynthia turned to her and said, “I’m sorry I implied that something was going on between you and Shane. That was wrong of me. I just…Shane was always in trouble, but I don’t know…I just liked him. And he made things exciting, you know?”
“I know,” Rachel agreed. There was an energy about Shane that turned a beige world flame-red. Oh, no, there were those dangerous thoughts again. “When I get back to the ranch,” she said, “I’m going to tell Shane that Cynthia Corvellis helped me pick out his curtains. They really are lovely, Cynthia. Just what the room needs.”
The older woman positively glowed at the compliment. “You enjoy them, sweetie,” Cynthia said. But of course that wasn’t going to happen. At least not for more than a few days. Then the curtains would be someone else’s to enjoy.
Rachel said goodbye and exited the store, heading toward the car. Across the street she noticed two men watching her, one elderly and the other one not so elderly. There was no malevolence in their perusal of her, and she had a hunch they knew who she was.
Her first instinct was to ignore them and just hurry to her car. Nice as Cynthia had eventually turned out to be, Rachel didn’t need any more people asking her if she was Shane’s newest conquest. How many women had the man had when he was living here?
She turned to go. But then it occurred to her that maybe all of this whispering and gossiping was part of the reason Shane didn’t want to come to town. And years of girls’ school training kicked in. If there was going to be talk, she preferred to have the chance to be a part of the dialogue instead of the powerless recipient.
Crossing the street, she held out her hand. “Excuse me, I’m Rachel Everly. I’m working for Shane Merritt at Oak Valley Ranch.”
“We know. We weren’t trying to be rude by staring. We were just wondering how to approach you without seeming too forward,” one of the men said, looking a bit sheepish. “I’m Len Hoskins. I own the drugstore. And this is Jarrod Ollis.”
Rachel said hello to both of them. “What…is there something I can do for you?”
“We just wanted to ask how Shane is doing.” Len took the lead again. “I hear he stopped in town one day when we’d already rolled up most of the streets, that he bought some supplies and hasn’t been seen here since. I missed seeing him that time and I wonder, if he plans to make another trip to town, could you ask him to let us know? Or could you let us know? It’s been ten years since he left Moraine.”
“I’d hate to miss having the chance to trade stories with him,” Jarrod agreed. “I mean, he was in town for his brother Eric’s funeral a year ago, but the arrangements were made in advance and he barely made an appearance. Not that I blame him. Some people need to be private in their grief. Still, Shane and Eric made this town rock, and it’s been pretty boring without them.”
“They were something,” Len said with a laugh. “Eric was captain of the football team and Shane was always tinkering with machines and breaking hearts. But then, you know all that.”
No, she knew almost nothing. Still, Rachel made a small sound of assent.
“And fighting,” Jarrod said with a smile, grabbing his jaw in a gesture that indicated Shane must have punched him there once. “Shane had a mean right hook, and he wasn’t averse to getting down in the dirt to wrestle you if it came to that.” Obviously it had come to that more than once. “Wouldn’t mind sharing old stories with him.”
“Why don’t you?” Rachel asked, and immediately wondered if she should have said that. Darn her impulsive mouth. But it was said. She wasn’t backing down now. “Why don’t you talk to him?”
“We just told you, Rachel. He hasn’t come to town.”
“But you could go see him. You could drop by the ranch.”
Wasn’t that what people did in small towns? They dropped by when they wanted to say hello? Ruby seemed to imply that people were always welcome at her place even if they weren’t staying or paying.
Jarrod rubbed his jaw again, looking vaguely worried. “I don’t know about coming to the ranch. Might make him mad.”
“If it does, I’ll protect you from him,” Rachel said, drawing a big laugh from Len.
“I think I like you, Rachel,” he said. “But I’m not so sure about stopping by the ranch, either. If Shane wanted to see us, he’d come here. That’s just the truth. If he’s staying on the ranch, then he doesn’t want to have anything to do with his neighbors. But tell him hey from Len.”
“And from Jarrod,” Jarrod said. “Tell him if he comes to town there’ll be payback.”
Rachel blinked.
“I’m lyin’, of course,” Jarrod said with a wink.
“Of course,” she agreed. But she had a feeling that Jarrod rather enjoyed fighting.
She also had a feeling that she had dodged a bullet. Maybe. Clearly she had been wrong about ranch and small town etiquette. At least in this small town and in terms of this ranch.
Len and Jarrod were probably right that it was a bad idea. Shane didn’t want to come to town. And the people were the town. No matter her feelings about leaving places and people on good terms, those were her beliefs, not his.
“Good thing no one’s coming,” she muttered on her way back. “Saved from my own impulsiveness by the good people of Moraine.” She smiled. It occurred to her that she liked Shane’s hometown better than he did.
It might not be a good idea to tell him that she’d messed up again and invited people to the ranch.
But, good idea or not, she would have to do it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE next day Shane came back to the house at lunch-time to find that Rachel had transformed his dining room into something…
“Livable,” he said as he stared down at the table dressed in his mother’s cream-colored tablecloth and topped with an old bottle green vase he hadn’t seen in years. The vase was full of golden blossoms and there were cream and merlot candles scattered about.
“Livable?” she asked. “Is that good or bad? Is it praise? Maybe?”
“Sorry. Yes, it’s praise,” he said with a trace of a smile. “And don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean by livable. This place has only been inhabited by men since I was eight years old. Lately it’s mostly been the home of mice. It had gone beyond functional to funky. And I don’t mean that in a good way. So, yes, the fact that someone might actually eat or entertain in here by choice rather than necessity is a good thing.”
She held out her hand. “Note the curtains.”
They were nice—plain cream-colored curtains with bottle-green scalloped edging and tiebacks—but nothing to write ballads about.
“Cynthia Corvellis helped me pick them out,” she said.
The name opened up a wound in his soul. Cynthia had been Eric’s piano teacher. She had adored Shane’s brother. No question why. Eric had been the most lovable person on earth. According to everyone. According to me, Shane thought. Don’t think about it, he thought.
“Cynthia always had good taste,” he said.
“She’s a nice woman,” Rachel agreed. “She told me that you used to love licorice whips and she kept a container of them on the counter for you.”
A tiny smile flickered over his lips, then died. “I know what you’re doing, Rachel. Cynthia is a very nice woman. I’m happy that she helped you find what you needed. But I’m still not going to town.”
�
��I know. What if town came to you, though?”
He froze. “Rachel, what do you mean?”
There was a pause. A long pause. “I might have done something you won’t like.”
He stared at her. He could tell that she was waiting for the whip to come down on her back. “What is it that you might have done?”
“I—I’m not sure. Maybe nothing.” She told him about her conversations yesterday.
He studied the ceiling, fought for composure. The thought of trading stories with people who had known him when…
“Rachel, why would you do that after I’d specifically stated that I didn’t want to go to town to meet my neighbors?”
She bit her lip and glanced to the side. “You didn’t exactly say that you didn’t want to meet them. You just said you didn’t want to go to town.”
Before he could say anything she rushed on. “No, that’s not right or fair. I knew you weren’t just avoiding the location. It’s just that…friendship is such a valuable thing. I-it’s not good to waste it, even if it lasts for only a very short time.”
“More words of wisdom?” He blew out a breath.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “I—I’m really sorry. I had no right to try to foist my ideas on you. And while I don’t think that any of those people will actually show up—they seemed reluctant to invade your privacy—just in case, I’ll get in touch with each one of them and explain that I was wrong to issue the invitation.”
It was an eloquent little speech, a perfectly pretty speech. And Shane had no doubt that Rachel would follow through. She was naive and almost innocent in some ways, but tough when toughness was required. Tougher than he was, he thought. And what was the source of all that moral toughness? Of all her pretty and, yes, naive, little rules? He didn’t know, but he knew that there was a sadness in her. He remembered that she had chosen to move to a state where she apparently knew no one.
“No. Leave it. Don’t make the calls,” he said. Because somehow he didn’t like the idea of making Rachel humble herself to retract her invitation. “But Rachel?”
To Wed a Rancher Page 9