“I’ve got someone with me who’d like to say hello.” He inclined his head in Becca’s direction, then ordered a beer and water from Nikki.
“Is that Becca?” Sadie asked, squinting. “Shirley’s granddaughter? My God, she’s all grown up. And real pretty. You’re trading up, son. Good for you.”
Laughing, Ryder watched Sadie approach the table. He’d just laid down some money when Nikki returned with the drinks. “Let me buy Sadie one, too.”
“She won’t want it,” Nikki said, “but I’ll tell her you offered.”
Another Sundance guest—hell, you could spot them a mile away—walked up just as he turned for the table. “Excuse me,” he said, sidestepping the brunette.
“Where are you going?” She was tall, leggy—“What’s your hurry, cowboy?”—and too forward for his taste.
He almost didn’t respond, then said, “Gotta get back to my date.”
When he made it to the table, Sadie and Becca were laughing about something. It took all of three seconds to figure out they’d been watching him and the brunette.
“Jesus, these women are like land mines,” he muttered as he set the mug and glass in front of Becca, who couldn’t stop laughing. A smile came automatically when he realized living in the city hadn’t changed her, and he was awfully glad for that.
“You don’t come in often enough,” Sadie said. “They’re tired of the same bunch of cowboys. You’re fresh meat.”
Ryder shook his head, then looked at Becca. “Drink your water.”
“Who’s the beer for?”
“You. I’m driving.”
“Sadie, he’s trying to get me drunk. Isn’t there a law against that?” She took a quick sip of the drink still in her hand and looked up, eyes wide. “Oh, I understand you’re the mayor now.”
Sadie narrowed her gaze at Becca, then swung a look at Ryder. “Are you? Is she...?”
“That’s her first beer.” He nodded at the mug that was still a quarter of the way full, and Sadie chuckled.
“I’m not sure she needs the second one,” she said quietly, and Ryder felt a prick of shame. “I wish I could stay and chat but I’ve got something going on down the street. Just came in to look for my new reading glasses. Becca, give me a buzz after Thanksgiving and let’s have a cup of coffee, huh?”
“Sure. At The Cake Whisperer?”
“You got it.”
“See you, Mayor.” Ryder watched her shake her head as she walked away. “She doesn’t like being called that,” he explained to Becca, but she was busy staring at her watch.
He really wasn’t trying to get her drunk. But he did like seeing her loose and relaxed. Not being pummeled with questions and accusations probably helped, he thought wryly.
She finally looked up from her watch. “Oh, gosh, we’d better get going. Noah must be awake by now. He better not be giving your mom a fit.” She stood and he couldn’t help but notice the slight wobble.
“I think we need to get something in your stomach first.”
Becca’s eyes widened. “Do you think Marge still has cinnamon rolls?”
“Let’s find out.”
At most she could only be slightly tipsy, but he put his arm around her waist just to be on the safe side as they left the bar and crossed over to the diner. Sadly, the rolls were all sold out. Becca looked heartbroken, especially since there were no tables available.
Back outside, she turned toward his truck, but he slowed her down. “The steakhouse has pretty good food.”
“So does your mom. Seriously. She’s always been a great cook, and I don’t get to eat like I used to anymore.” She smiled up at him, evidently not minding that he’d put his arm around her again.
It wasn’t smart. Standing this close together. His hand resting on the curve of her hip. Her sweet scent drifting up to tease him.
“Yes, but we’re closer to the steakhouse,” he said, his voice disturbingly hoarse. “I’m sure they have a table for two waiting just for us.”
Jesus, this was Becca. What was wrong with him?
After he’d taken too long to gather his wits and lower his arm, Becca wouldn’t let him move. She slipped her arm through his while studying him closely. Noting a hint of suspicion in her expression, he braced himself.
“You’re stalling because you don’t want Noah or Gail to see me drunk.”
“On one beer?” A lock of hair tangled with her lashes, and he tucked it behind her ear. “You’re not drunk.”
“I know,” she said, very deliberately. Then her lips lifted into another pretty smile. “Did you know I had a crush on you when I was twelve?”
“Um—” Evidently, Amy hadn’t been teasing back then.
“Yep, I used to fantasize about—”
“Okay.” Ryder cut her off. “You might be drunk after all. Come on. We’re getting you fed. Now.”
“But Noah—”
“Will be just fine. I’ll call and let them know we’ll be home in a while.” He pulled out his cell phone, then moved Becca a little closer to the curb as he hit speed dial. “Hey, Mom. Would you mind feeding Noah his supper?”
After an enthusiastic yes from his mother, and verification that they made it to the bakery in time, Ryder said, “Oh, and Mom, don’t bother to wait up.” He winked at Becca. “We’re on a date.”
Chapter Eleven
An hour and a half later, Becca yawned and snuggled back into the comfort of Ryder’s bucket seat. “I ate too much. Again.”
“It’s good practice for tomorrow night.”
“You’re supposed to be sympathetic.”
“Believe me, I am. I should’ve skipped the apple pie a la mode.”
“Which part?”
“The a la mode.”
“That’s what I thought.” She peered into the darkness around them. “Where are we?”
“Ten minutes from home.”
Not her home. She was getting far too comfortable with this version of Ryder. She needed to go to her grandparents’ place, see if it was in shape for her and Noah to move over there while she figured out what her next step should be. “I can’t believe you told your mother we were on a date.”
“She knew I was joking around. Besides, it felt like a date, didn’t it?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Take my word for it. We talked. We ate. We laughed. I paid.”
She straightened. “Only because you shoved my money back at me.”
His hand covered hers where it rested on her thigh. “I’m kidding. I was happy to take you out. In fact, if I remember correctly, I forced you into it.”
“Don’t remind me of my drunken behavior. So embarrassing.”
“For what it’s worth, I had no idea about your childhood crush.”
Becca groaned. “Please don’t make fun of me. I told you, I was twelve.”
He smiled at her, the oncoming headlights from a big semi lighting up his face. “I wish I had known.”
“You were nineteen. You would have laughed your butt off.”
“If I had been seventeen? Definitely. Nineteen? I was much too mature for that.”
“You’re so full of it.” She had a strong feeling he’d known all along, but he was trying to be nice.
He squeezed her hand before he pulled away.
Sighing, Becca made herself more comfortable as she cautioned her thoughts once again. It hadn’t been a date, it never would be a date, and this whatever-it-was was simply the calm before the storm, so she might as well get over her ridiculousness.
Yes, it had been a lovely thing to pretend for a few hours that Ryder actually liked her, might even be attracted to her.
She had to admit, as much as it was inadvisable, she was attracted to him. His eyes, his smile, the scruff on his jaw. Even the way his earthy, clean scent mad
e something inside her go a little cockeyed. But none of it was real. Except that he’d made an effort.
“Thank you,” she said. “For the outing and for the horseback ride yesterday.” She turned to face his profile. “For being so kind to Noah, and for not blaming me...”
He didn’t look at her or say a word. But the hand that had been covering hers moments ago tightened on the wheel.
That was a nice hit of reality she’d do well to remember.
“Maybe Amy will call tomorrow. For Thanksgiving,” he said, the teasing in his tone completely gone.
“I hope so. I really do.” Coincidentally, her cell phone rang and she pulled it out, her hopes sky high, but the call was from the Mitchells’ landline. Noah? “Hello?”
“Mommy? Where are you? I had dinner and you weren’t here. I miss you.”
“I miss you too, sweetie. We’re almost there. I’ll be back in time for your bath and a bedtime story.”
“No bath!”
“Yes, bath. You were playing hard all day. Now all you have to do is decide which story you want tonight.”
“Goodnight Moon!”
“Well, that was quick. I’ll let you read it with me, how’s that?”
“Okay, Mommy.” He disconnected, not even knowing his call was just what she’d needed. She could always count on Noah to lift her spirits.
The phone buzzed again, and she knew without looking it was him again. “What did you forget?” she asked.
“Lance said tomorrow I could have a cow pie. He said it’s way better than pumpkin.”
She’d met Lance, and she wasn’t surprised. “I think Lance was teasing you, sweetie. A cow pie isn’t something yummy.”
“It’s not?”
“No. I’ll have Lance try one to prove it to you. Now, did you thank Aunt Gail for dinner?”
“Yes. And I took my plate into the kitchen.”
“That’s my good boy. Oh, we’ve just turned onto the road to the ranch. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
They disconnected again.
“That damn Lance,” Ryder said. “He doesn’t have the sense God gave a flea. He’s always playing practical jokes. I ended up landing on my ass in the dirt because of him.”
She couldn’t help a laugh. “Not even the boss is exempt? He does need a lesson in manners.”
“Pulling something over on me is one thing, but messing with Noah? Maybe docking his pay is the only thing that’ll get through his thick head.”
“You should give Gail a crack at him.”
Ryder barked out a laugh, so loud that it actually startled her. “You’re right,” he said as he pulled into the parking space closest to the house. “Or you. Nothing like an angry mama defending her cub.” He put the truck in Park and turned off the engine. “Well, I guess this is the end of our date, and you know what happens next, right?”
“Um.” She wished she could see his face better. “You’re joking.”
“I just asked a simple question,” he said, leaning a little toward her and out of the shadows.
She had no business moistening her lips, not when he was staring at her like that. It was just nerves, but he wouldn’t see it that way. Oh, boy, he didn’t look as if he’d been joking at all.
Her heart was beating a mile a minute, and she had no idea what to do. Move in? Run for the hills? Laugh and say something funny?
A loud knock on Ryder’s window made her gasp. He jerked back, then saw it was Bear, looking dead serious. Ryder let down his window. “What?”
“Boss, the back pasture water main broke and it’s making a hell of a mess. Wiley’s got everyone moving the cattle but we gotta do something about that pipe.”
“I’ll get my gear and be right out.”
Bear nodded, his hat and clothes covered with a wet slicker, and he hopped onto a nearby ATV.
Ryder turned to Becca. “You mind taking in the box?”
She shook her head. “Go. Good luck.”
He dashed out without another word, and she watched him run to the shed where they kept most of the ATVs and larger equipment.
It was bitterly cold out, and she knew he’d be soaked to the bone before long. And here she was, sitting in his warm truck, shamefully obsessing on whether he had actually intended to kiss her.
* * *
BECCA SAT AT the dining room table. It hadn’t been set yet, as it was only noon and Thanksgiving dinner wasn’t going to be served until five. She wasn’t idle, though. She’d set up Noah with crayons and paper on the floor in the living room, where she could see him, while he made the decorations. She’d taken the precaution of putting a beige tarp underneath him. Everything seemed to be going along smoothly...his monologue to the turkey he was coloring had been running for approximately fifteen minutes.
She was polishing the last of the silver, a beautiful set that went with Gail’s lovely Lenox bone china, which hadn’t been used for a number of years.
Hearing the door to the mudroom open, she dropped the ladle and turned, leaning to the side so she could see into the kitchen.
Ryder was standing at the threshold. He looked as if he’d been through a car wash. Eyes red, dripping wet, the stubble darkening his jaw making him look sexy. Poor guy had worked all night and here she had her mind on sex. No. She thought he looked sexy. That was different.
She scooted her chair back so she didn’t have to keep leaning to see.
“Well, you’ve certainly had yourself a time,” Gail said, coming out of the pantry. “Is it fixed?”
He nodded, then glanced toward the stove.
“The coffee is fresh, and I can whip up some breakfast, if you’d like.”
He shook his head, and even though he’d taken off his slicker, hat and coat, he still looked like a wet rat.
He gave his mom an exhausted smile. “Just coffee, thanks. I’d get it myself but I don’t want to drip all over the floor.”
“No, we don’t want that,” Gail said, getting a mug out of the upper cabinet. “I’m thankful you’re in one piece, that the water main isn’t a geyser costing you a fortune, and that you’re home early enough to take a nice hot shower, then get a nap so you’ll be able to enjoy dinner.”
“I admit, I do need a shower. I don’t know about a nap. Give me a half hour and I can help in here.”
“Oh? You think Becca and I can’t handle a Thanksgiving dinner?”
Becca stifled a grin.
“Fine. I’ll go shower, then sleep. But I’m setting the alarm.”
Gail passed him a mug of coffee and squeezed his shoulder. “You do that, sweetheart. I really want you to be able to enjoy dinner with the rest of us.”
She hurried back to the stove, pausing to put her cane in the corner where it wouldn’t be in the way. Becca had only seen her use the cane once today, and that was just while she’d mashed the potatoes in the pot on the stove.
Ryder looked past Becca to the living room floor. “I see you’ve put Noah to work.”
“I’m making all the dec’rations.” Noah frowned. “Do you really have to take a nap?”
“I think my mom knows what’s best, just like your mom does. From what I can see, those are mighty nice-looking decorations. They’re going to make Thanksgiving the best ever.”
Noah grinned so hard he looked like he might pop.
Becca turned to find Ryder looking her way.
“Polishing the silver?” he asked.
“Traditions are important. You know that.”
His smile was a little bigger for her, but he was weaving a bit in his big rubber boots.
“Go.”
“What time is dinner?” he asked.
“Not until five,” Gail said. “Or whenever you wake up.”
One final nod and he backed up into the mudroom with his coffee.
&
nbsp; “I put clean towels in the bin,” Gail called out. She picked up a wooden spoon and just stood there, staring at the sink for a minute. “How’s Wiley? Is he still coming for dinner or is he too tuckered out?”
“As far as I know, he’ll be here.” Ryder appeared again, this time somewhat drier and without the rubber boots. He looked at Becca and they shared a brief smile. “So is Otis.”
“I know,” Gail replied and got busy stirring a pot. Thankfully. So she didn’t see Becca biting her lip. If Ryder made her laugh, she was going to clobber him. “He’s bringing over his cornbread dressing in a little bit.”
“Well, I think I can make it to my room without doing any damage. You got enough coffee for me to take a refill with me?”
“All that caffeine? You’ll never get to sleep.”
“I doubt that.” He’d entered the kitchen and Gail met him partway with the carafe.
He didn’t have to go through the dining room to get to the stairs, but he did anyway, making Becca blush. For no reason. He hadn’t brushed her or said anything. It was all because of last night. And they hadn’t even kissed. It was highly unlikely that was what he’d had in mind anyway, she’d decided.
Gail came over to the table and sat next to her. “It looks like you two are still getting along. I’m glad.”
“He’s been very considerate. I appreciate it. He certainly doesn’t have to be. Neither do you.”
Gail’s hand closed over Becca’s. “I know you’ve been a good friend to Amy, no matter what she’s gotten into that head of hers. And the way you love Noah? That’s something to celebrate even if it wasn’t Thanksgiving.”
Becca’s heart hurt. She didn’t want to see this woman suffer, but Becca couldn’t drag Amy back if she didn’t want to come. There was very little Becca could do...
Except give Gail the grandson she so desperately wanted.
“You weren’t around, so you wouldn’t know.” Gail glanced in the direction of the stairs. “Ryder’s divorce from Leanne wasn’t anyone’s fault. They simply didn’t fit. It happens to a lot of folks, and I was sorry to see Ryder go through the pain of it, but splitting up was the right thing to do. He needs a wife who’ll understand what this ranch means to him. How hard he works.”
To Trust a Rancher Page 10