She wasn’t supposed to turn him on. He didn’t want to want her. Hell, he couldn’t want her—what would be the point? Come Sunday, she’d be flying off to New York and he would stay in Wyoming. End of story.
Besides, she came from a world he’d deliberately rejected. The women he’d met in the contemporary art world were beautiful, like Jess. Many of them were smart, like her. Would he bring them home to meet Wyatt?
Not only no, but hell, no.
Jemima, Constance, Amabel, Olivia...lovely ladies, all of them, busy enjoying their wealthy, privileged lives. Dylan had enjoyed their privileged lives, too—his sculptures had given him access to their parties, their adventures, their friendship. More than friendship, in fact. Just casual connections, though, which none of them had taken seriously. He hadn’t, either.
Underneath his hat, he blew out a long breath. This line of thought was one he avoided if at all possible—another reason to keep his distance from Jess Granger. She wanted to take him back to that point in time, to probe the mystery he’d deliberately created. She wanted to know about Noelle.
Swearing, Dylan sat up and jammed his hat on his head. Leo glanced over and gave a snort.
“My sentiments exactly,” he told the Appaloosa. “I won’t go there.” Elbows on his knees, head down, he pulled at a tall blade of grass. “I can’t.”
Kissing Jess had been amazing. Disorienting, confusing and exhilarating. But he was twenty-seven years old. He’d shared kisses with...well, with enough women to understand how the game was played.
Get over it. Move on.
A sudden chill poured through him, from brain to belly. Maybe he didn’t understand the game so well, after all. What if...what if Jess Granger had used those kisses to pursue her agenda? Sure, he’d started it, but her response could have been calculated to...stimulate, for want of a better word, his cooperation. Maybe she planned to seduce him into telling her the whole truth.
“Not gonna happen.” He stood up and walked over to his horse, swung up onto Leo’s back and urged him away from the creek. He did have chores to do, and brothers who would pester him until he’d finished.
Not to mention a reporter to deal with who ranked up there with Mata Hari in terms of technique. But now that he realized her intentions, he could counter her maneuvers with a few of his own.
They called it fighting fire with fire. And Dylan couldn’t wait to feed the flames.
* * *
THE KIDS’ PICNIC took place beside the creek, but farther away than the place Dylan had shown her yesterday. Jess was given a basket of paper plates and napkins to carry as she walked along with the crowd, going downhill from the red barn and away from the house. In the distance, the rolling plains of grass that created the ranch were framed by the blue-and-purple peaks of the Big Horn Mountains. Above all of it stretched the clearest sky she’d ever seen.
Caroline stepped up beside her. “How was your riding lesson?”
“Enjoyable, as far as I’m concerned.” Till the end. Or, maybe, especially the end. “Cash made it easy for me.”
“He’s a great old pony. Ford told me that Cash is the first horse Wyatt trained when he came to work on the ranch.”
“He must be very talented with this cowboy stuff.”
“They all are. Dylan started at the youngest age, and he’s by far the best rider. Did you watch him go off on Leo this morning? I grew up with horses, and I’m not nearly so comfortable riding bareback. And without a bridle, forget it.”
“Are you from this area? One of the neighboring ranches?” Talking about Caroline would be a way to avoid talking—or thinking—about Dylan.
Of course, talking about Dylan was her job. The reason she’d come and the reason she wished she could leave.
Caroline nodded in answer to her question. “But my dad and I aren’t on speaking terms—he doesn’t approve my line of work. Though I’m still close with my mom, the Marshalls are my family now.”
Jess stared at her with raised brows. “Is this the Circle M Home for the Discarded and Difficult? That would include me, of course.”
To her relief, Caroline laughed. “Could be. In fact, I was wondering if you would be able to talk with the kids after lunch, since we’ll all be together and they should be reasonably settled. Not a huge formal speech or anything, just a conversation about how you set goals and achieved them, even with a challenging background.”
“I’ll be glad to.” They arrived at the bottom of the hill, to find that Susannah had spread a checkered tablecloth over the wooden table where the kids were placing the various items they’d carried to the site—plates of sandwiches, bags of chips, a big bowl of fruit and another of salad. Thomas and Marcos had managed to cooperate long enough to transport a yellow cooler of water for drinking.
“This looks wonderful.” Jess handed Susannah the paper products she’d carried. “What a great place for a picnic.”
“Isn’t it?” Susannah glanced around, finding Amber at the edge of the water with her brother, Nate, standing right beside her. “The more I see of the ranch, the more I love it. Wyatt is so lucky to live here. All of them are,” she added, with a flush rising in her cheeks.
“Does the creek have a name?” Though shaded by tall trees, the banks of the creek itself were covered with rocks and boulders, which made perfect lunch sites for the kids.
Garrett stepped up to the table. “It’s a branch of Crazy Woman Creek.”
Jess pretended to think hard. “Let me guess—named after a legend about a Native American woman whose tribe was killed by soldiers.”
“Or a woman settler whose family was killed by warriors.” Ford joined them and began to fill a plate. “Take your pick.”
“How about...” Jess grinned. “How about an independent woman who bought her own land, built the house by herself and ran the ranch her way?”
Leaning against a nearby tree, sandwich in hand, Wyatt chuckled. “In the old days, they would have thought that was the craziest story of all.”
“Of course,” Caroline said. “They all knew a woman couldn’t get along in this world without a man to take care of her.” Smiling, she elbowed Ford in the ribs. He nudged her right back.
“It’s the other way around,” Wyatt said. “A man needs a woman to take care of him.” When they all looked at him in surprise, his cheeks reddened. “Seems to me.”
“Then it’s a good thing you and I have Susannah,” Garrett told him. “At least for now.”
Wyatt’s face went blank. “Guess so.”
Jess noticed that Susannah was sitting with her kids on a nearby rock—close enough to hear the comments and have her cheeks turn bright red.
The easy conversation left Jess with a smile on her face as the kids gathered to clean up the table. She surveyed the area, trying to choose a suitable amphitheater to gather them for her “talk.” Taking her place on a nearby rock, she nodded at Caroline to indicate she was ready to begin. In another minute, an audience of teenagers had circled in front of her.
Starting out, she met each one’s gaze directly. “Good lunch, right?”
The kids responded with nods and a “yeah” or two, but the standard adolescent apathy was on display.
When she said, “Especially the brownies,” more enthusiasm surfaced.
Jess would work with what she had. “So, the point of this meeting is for me to admit to you that I spent a lot of my life in the foster care system. I was five years old the first time I went into a foster home, and I left the last one when I graduated from high school.”
Thomas stared up at her from under his brows. “How come?”
She took a deep breath. “My mom did drugs, but not much of anything else. We didn’t always have a place to stay or food to eat. My dad sold drugs, but he disappeared a lot. They spent time in jail, and I would be placed with people who would take care of me. Then my parents would be released and regain custody. We seesawed like that till I was old enough to leave.”
Lizzie
raised her hand. “Doesn’t it bother you to talk about it?”
“Should it?”
“Well...aren’t you...doesn’t it embarrass you when your parents are...?”
“Criminals? Yes. But it wasn’t my fault.” She gave them all another straight look. “That’s one thing you must understand. Parents screw up. You can love them, but that won’t make them suitable role models. You have to separate who you are from who they are.”
Marcos was drawing pictures in the dirt. “Did you get hurt?”
“I was never abused. The people I stayed with weren’t always lovey-dovey. But I got food and clothes and medicine when I was sick.”
Thomas threw a small rock toward the creek. “So what’s the big deal? Why should we bother listening to you? Doesn’t sound so bad—you got places to go where nobody beat you up. They weren’t drunk every night and making you do bad stuff.” He jumped to his feet. “Why are you wasting our time?”
“Because you’ve all made some bad choices in your lives. And I’ve been in situations where those same options were offered to me.”
“But you didn’t make mistakes ’cause you’re just too cool, huh?” Justino shrugged. “Too bad we can’t all be cool like you.”
Jess nodded. “I know. I’m sorry for you.”
There was a shocked silence, before the rest of the kids—and the adults—saw her grin and realized she was joking. Laughter broke up the tension and Thomas, looking flushed and uncomfortable, sat down.
“I’m not too cool to make mistakes,” Jess told them. “I smoked—cigarettes and weed. I’ve tried pills, booze and coke. I cheated on tests, stole from grocery stores and had fistfights with other girls. And one boy. I won.”
The kids were staring at her with wide eyes. She didn’t dare glance at the adults. “I did everything any of you has done.” She noticed Lizzie’s self-conscious flush.
“But guess what? I didn’t continue that behavior. I didn’t get hooked on drugs or alcohol—I’d spent my whole life watching my mom craving her next fix and doing whatever it took to pay for it. I watched one of my foster dads die from lung cancer. I got caught stealing and spent a night in jail with women just like my mom, and I knew I never wanted to do that again.”
Another deep breath. “In my first foster home, I made a friend. Trini was two years older than me, but she was really nice to a scared little girl. We got to stay together for almost two years till my mom came to get me. But Trini and I swore to stay friends. BFFs, you call them today.
“And we did, till Trini turned sixteen. After that, I would call, but she never seemed to be around. And when we did talk, she was...different. Impatient. Then insulting. When she left her foster home, she didn’t leave me a way to get in touch with her. I found out, when I went back to my mom, that she was a gang member’s girlfriend. He beat her up whenever he felt like it. One day he hit her too hard and she died.”
After a pause, she said, “That’s why you’re listening to me. Because I’ve already made the mistakes and I know what happens when you do. Because the nice people over there who started this camp really want each and every one of you to have a life—a whole entire eighty-years-long life, with someone to love you forever and kids and grandkids and a home you share with them all, a job you’re proud of, a sense of self-worth and confidence and peace that comes with making good choices. All of that is possible for each one of you.”
Thomas raised his hand. “Do you have all that?”
Jess met his gaze and uttered her only lie. “I do.”
* * *
WHY DON’T I believe her?
Standing behind the other adults, Dylan had arrived in time to hear most of Jess’s talk to the kids. Her frankness didn’t surprise him—she seemed pretty comfortable with herself and what she’d been through.
“Not the kids and grandkids part,” she said, grinning at the teens. “But I have a great job and a great life in New York.”
He noticed that she didn’t mention a husband or significant other...or even casual friends to share her days and nights. Maybe that’s what made him doubt she was as successful in her personal life as she claimed—from the very first he’d had the impression of her as solitary. Jess struck him as a person who preferred to remain unattached. Self-sufficient.
But she didn’t want the kids to know that.
Lizzie put up her hand. “If you did all those bad things, what made you change? Why didn’t it get worse?”
Jess nodded. “Terrific question. One answer—books.”
Marcos rolled his eyes. “You read books on making mistakes?”
“You can do that,” she told him. Then she shrugged. “But who wants to?” That got her a laugh. “No, I read stories about other kids. Novels about girls who had really awesome lives, and whose biggest problems were the mean children they had to babysit. Or getting a boy to like them.”
Justino sneered. “Talk about lame.” Lena punched him in the arm.
“I read about boys who traveled through time and space to save the world. Girls can do that, too, though there weren’t as many of those stories when I was a teenager as there are now. I read about growing up in the middle of a place like this.” She stretched her arms wide. “But without running water or electricity, when you plowed the ground with horses or oxen to plant your crops and you drove to town in a wagon.”
“I hate reading,” Thomas said. “It’s boring.”
“I bet I could find you a book that’s not boring. The thing is, books show you what’s possible, from stories about what has truly happened to stories about something so crazy you can’t begin to believe in the truth of it. Books distract you when you’re bored. They comfort you when you’re sad.” Jess swallowed hard. “Losing Trini was hard. She was my only long-time friend, and I didn’t know what to do without her in my life. The only way I could get through the hours without screaming was to read. Fortunately, I found a series of books about magic, strange creatures and fantasy countries. I buried myself in that world when I couldn’t face the one I lived in. Otherwise...I might have started making some really bad choices of my own.”
She let the silence lengthen while the kids considered. “That series inspired me to start writing on my own. First I continued those books—wrote about what happened after ‘the end.’ Then I created new characters and put them in the world that author created. I became immersed in my own writing, and that gave me a way out of the pain and anger I experienced over Trini.” Once again, she locked gazes with each and every kid. “You guys could do the same thing.”
That suggestion earned a loud chorus of denial, though Dylan noticed that Nate and Lizzie remained quiet.
“It’s true,” Jess insisted. “Every single one of you could write a readable story.”
“Why bother?” Justino asked. “Somebody gonna pay me to waste my time?”
Jess held out her hands. “They pay me.”
“You’re ol...you’re a grown-up.”
“I got my first check for writing a magazine article when I was seventeen.”
“What did you write about?” Lizzie, again.
“Trini. A national magazine held a contest to get published and I won.”
“Was there a prize?” Marcos wanted to know.
“Five thousand dollars.”
They all stared at her with their mouths open.
“Wow,” Becky said at last. “That would be so cool.”
Dylan managed to keep his jaw in place, but he was impressed. Jess was, apparently, a star in her own world.
Thomas recovered his control. “Yeah, right. I ain’t got a computer to write stuff on. Even if I wanted to, and I don’t.”
“Pencil and paper work just fine. In fact...” Jess glanced at the adults. “We could probably find some paper on this great big ranch. A few pencils. You guys can try writing a story.”
Marcos fell back onto the ground and covered his face with his arms. “No way.”
“Think about this.” She lean
ed forward, her face lit with enthusiasm. “You can travel anywhere in the universe. Not just this world, but any planet, star, moon, galaxy. What kind of place would you go to? That’s all you have to do—describe where you would go and one thing you would do when you got there.”
Still lying down, Marcos groaned. “Sooooo stupid.”
“Reading and then writing were my way out,” Jess told them. “Trini’s story drew the attention of colleges, and a college degree gave me what I needed to make a career. I’m not saying that all of you will become professional writers because you started reading. What I am saying is that books contain ideas. And ideas can take you anywhere you want to go.”
“I’m not doin’ it,” Thomas declared. He started to stand up, but a glance at the adults behind him quashed the idea.
“Who’s going to read it?” Lizzie looked almost as excited as Jess.
Jess got to her feet. “That would be your choice. You can share what you write, or not. I happen to believe it’s worth the effort just to sit down and try.”
Caroline walked around to stand beside her. “I agree. It’s pretty warm out, so we’ll spend a cool hour at the bunkhouse, imagining where we’d go and what we’d do. Then you all can get some rodeo practice before dinner.”
“I’d rather eat dirt,” Justino muttered.
“That could be arranged,” Dylan responded under his breath. Wyatt, standing beside him, heard and frowned.
“Don’t forget to take something up the hill with you,” Caroline called as the kids began to disperse. “We can empty the water into the creek.”
“I’ll get that.” Dylan picked up the canister and climbed over the rocks with it. When he turned around, the group had already crested the hill and was headed toward the barn.
All except Jess.
“Some resistance is to be expected,” she said with a wry smile. “But this might not be my most brilliant idea ever.”
He dropped down off the last boulder, near where she stood. “The point of our camp, as I understand it, is asking them to do what they’ve never done before and to consider what they want from the rest of their lives. It seems to me you covered both those objectives.”
A Husband in Wyoming Page 7