Wyoming Born & Bred

by Cathleen Galitz

  “You wouldn’t believe me.”

  It was a statement of fact rather than conjecture on his part. He had tried telling her of his past, but she had refused to believe him. That fact alone should have been enough to break off the dangerous look of longing that passed between them. It was as electrically charged as the day she had fallen into his arms and both had been so shocked by the intensity of their reaction to each other. A couple of weeks of close contact had done nothing to lessen the sparks arcing between them like a direct short circuit. If anything, that stored energy had built up to atomic-bomb proportions.

  But Cameron wasn’t thinking of the fallout that was destined to follow when he stifled her gasp with a kiss. To his delight she did indeed taste of fresh berries and the essence of all good things in life—sunshine and promises and fulfillment. He told himself it was not a roaring in his ears he heard but simply the gurgle of water draining from the tub. His heart was hammering so loudly against his chest that it was hard to differentiate.

  He deepened the kiss. Patricia responded fully to his demands, coiling her arms around his neck and melting against him. They fit together perfectly, as if God had knowingly made them for each other. Her hands riffled through his hair as she had been longing to do for so very long. This moment had been destined from the first minute their eyes had locked. Both had resisted to no avail. There was a savage sweetness in the mutual capitulation to forces beyond their control. Desire too long suppressed could no longer be denied.

  In the most unlikely place for romance, they discovered the depth of their passion. Surprise widened both pairs of eyes simultaneously. Lips parted with the greatest of reluctance, and they regarded each other suspiciously.

  Patricia had been married before and was the mother of three children. It hadn’t occurred to her that a simple kiss could have such an impact on her. True, her relationship with Hadley had been based more on friendship and a desire to get out from under her father’s control than on passion, but she had never considered their love life lacking. It had been comfortable if not dynamic. Patricia had always thought if she were ever to marry again, it would be that same comfort she would seek.

  In the space of a magical moment, all that changed forever. Cameron’s kiss opened a window on a world hitherto unknown to her. A world of breathless anticipation and unquenchable desire. Weak in the knees, Patricia felt light-headed. Blood was pulsating through her body in frightening palpitations. And the crazy thing about it was that she longed for more.

  “Wow!” she uttered without thinking.

  “Wow is right.”

  Cameron was looking at Patricia like she was some kind of beautiful sorceress who had cast a spell upon him, relegating the memory of any number of satisfying sexual encounters to the realm of junior high crushes. The blood coursing through his veins was hot and volatile. It took every ounce of self-control that he had to rein in his urge to take this woman right on the linoleum floor. The look smoldering in those wide, brown eyes told him she would not resist. Cameron understood that what he was feeling was far more than simple lust. Although he was not ready to give that feeling a name just yet, he knew that it was complicated by unresolved deception on his part. He needed time to sort it all out before things got completely out of hand.

  “I’d better get back to work,” he said in a voice too deep and husky to conceal how moved he was by the encounter.

  “Yes, I suppose you should.”

  Their words implied that nothing had changed between them. Patricia was happy to play along with Cameron’s pretense that their old adversarial relationship between boss and hired hand remained intact. Both of them knew it was a lie but desperately needed to pretend otherwise. They stepped away from each other, feeling less awkward with each other than with their own respective feelings. Both toyed with the same burning question. If a simple kiss had this kind of effect upon them, what would happen if things were carried any further?

  Chapter Eleven

  Lately Cameron’s mind kept wandering back to the old sinkhole where he had first learned to swim. He had been no older than Kirk when he had turned a blind eye to the danger signs posted about, plunged in headfirst, and struck out in a comical dog paddle. It reminded him of the precarious position in which he found himself now. Though Patricia had posted warnings all around her heart and her home, Cameron found himself wading a little deeper into treacherous, emotional waters with each passing day. All of a sudden it seemed he was in it up to his neck.

  Being home only strengthened his resolve to restore the Triple R to the ranch his grandfather had envisioned. Spencer Wade had stained the surrounding rocks red with his blood, tying future generations to this land. The fact that Patricia seemed to understand the intrinsic value of connecting her own family to this special place made Cameron feel both close to her and sorry for her. He knew how hard it would be for her to give up claim to this magical place.

  It was not pity, however, that had brought their lips together in the most sensual kiss he had ever experienced. A kiss like that brought a whole new meaning to the concept of foreplay. It lingered in his mind, suggesting a passion in Patricia that he had hitherto only imagined. The memory alone clouded rational thinking and left him in a permanent state of arousal.

  Cameron could no more pretend that kiss had never happened than he could pretend indifference for this woman and her family. How he had become so quickly enmeshed in the daily drama of their lives was beyond him, but just as Patricia had warned him, he had become more than just a hired hand to the children. He had become their hero and their friend.

  A dicey combination in the best of circumstances.

  A few days ago he had been kicking the dust, unequivocally stating that he was a real cowboy, and the next he’d found himself playing nursemaid to a sick baby. Nursemaid, chauffeur, chicken wrangler. Cameron doubted whether his grandfather would be pleased with the ignominious duties his descendant had carved out for himself.

  Friday was a teacher workday, and the children were thrilled with the prospect of spending the whole day unfettered by academic demands upon their time. As they lounged about watching television, Patricia handed her foreman his paycheck over breakfast.

  The coffee in Cameron’s mouth turned suddenly bitter. He pushed it away.

  “Take it,” she said, jutting out her chin proudly. “It’s honest money, and you earned it. Far more, if the truth were known”

  Looking around himself, Cameron felt suddenly ashamed. The faded kitchen wallpaper was beginning to curl in the corners, the linoleum in front of the sliding-glass door in back was spotted by years of direct sunlight, the children’s T-shirts were growing smaller and thinner with each washing, and he wondered when the last time was that the lady of the house had bought anything pretty for herself. He started to protest that he didn’t want her money, but something glimmering in those beautiful eyes of hers stayed his hand.

  There’s a difference between pride and prideful, Son, his mother had once told him. But until he’d looked into the depths of Patricia’s eyes, he never fully understood what she had meant.

  “Thanks,” he said, folding the check in two and stuffing it into his shirt pocket.

  Its weight felt leaden next to his heart.

  “Hey, Mom, don’t forget that I need a new pair of jeans,” Johnny interjected over the mouthful of sugarcoated cereal he was eating like candy.

  There was no denying it. His little ankles peeked out from the patched pair he was wearing. They were his play clothes, but the reality was that his school clothes were in little better shape.

  Heating her tired sigh, Johnny hastened to assure his mother, “It don’t really matter.”

  “Doesn’t,” she automatically corrected.

  As a child Patricia had taken for granted the things her own children lacked now. Things like fashionable clothes, expensive toys, vacations and spending money. The kind of things that other kids notice—and comment on. Things her parents would gladly provide t
hem if only she would put aside her foolish pride, go home and submit herself to her father’s tyrannical control for the rest of her life.

  “And, yes, it does matter,” she said. “A fine-looking boy like you needs to look nice for school. We’ll just have to make a trip into town today. Amy’s no longer contagious, and the drive’ll do us all some good.”

  “You’ll come too, won’t you, Cameron?” asked Johnny. The excitement in his voice dented both his mother’s and his idol’s heart.

  “You certainly deserve some time off,” Patricia ventured with a hesitant smile. There was no denying that the thought of spending the day with a man whose lips had claimed a part of her that she thought had died long, long ago was tempting indeed. And with the children along to chaperone, there was little need to worry about another breach of propriety.

  Dam it.

  Cameron’s experience with women had led him to believe that the wisest course was to simply confine his relationships to the mutual satisfaction of sexual urges and to part before any real emotional damage could be inflected upon him again. A cramped trip to town with a passel of kids wasn’t exactly his idea of a good time. He was just about to say no, thank you, when his gaze locked with Patricia’s. Unspoken was the remembrance of a kiss that had forged a mystical bond of intimacy between them. It was scandalous that a mere glance could be so explosive.

  “I’d like that very much.”

  Cameron’s voice sounded the way smooth whisky tastes sliding down a parched throat. Though not much of a drinking man, he suddenly felt the need to steady his nerves.

  “I’ll make room for everybody in my truck,” he offered, standing up to go.

  Feeling a tremor run through her, Patricia resisted the urge to reach out and catch herself. She locked her knees, tossed him an encouraging smile and took a deep breath as he left the room. If she wasn’t mistaken, the scent of masculine pursuit lingered in the air like faint perfume. Heady, dangerous, intoxicating...

  Cameron hadn’t been thinking of family comfort when he’d bought his extended-cab pickup. He liked it because it gave him extra room to carry and protect his expensive equipment. That he spent so much of his time living in his vehicle hadn’t made him opposed to paying for the added comfort, either. He’d heard it said that a man’s vehicle was merely an extension of his ego, and it hadn’t bothered him a whit to lay down hard cash to buy the most expensive, powerful pickup on the lot. When a man paid his due with blood and broken bones, Cameron figured he deserved to have something to show for it. And he was determined to have more than just a fancy vehicle by the time he was done dealing. The Triple R still remained the ultimate prize.

  While Patricia got herself and everyone else ready, he cleared out the space behind the seat By the time they strapped in the baby seat and buckled everyone in, Cameron was surprised how happy he was feeling. He remembered how as a child he had loved those infrequent trips to town and how much penny candy could be bought with a handful of spare change.

  The line of telephone poles alongside the dirt road that they were traveling stretched into an eternity of blue sky and looked like so many crucifixes connected. The boys chattered about things as inconsequential as who would win in a fight between Superman and Spiderman, Amy cooed in delight as they crested each swell in the road, Patricia basked in the warmth of the sunshine through the windows, and Cameron enjoyed feeling part of something very special—a family.

  He was glad that Patricia didn’t feel the need to engage in small talk. Spectacular vistas and the feeling of belonging made the miles speed by. Before Cameron knew it, he was pulling into the outskirts of town.

  Nestled idyllically in the Wind River Mountains, the tight-knit community of Lander had changed little as far as he could tell, since the day he’d left to make his mark upon the world. He hung a proverbial Main, passing by Cindy’s Diner where gossip had always traveled faster than the speed of e-mail, past the high school that to him had always looked more like a prison than an institution of higher learning, and by the bank where the only glimmer of compassion his father had ever been able to discern was in the loan officer’s one glass eye.

  Stopping in front of the local grocery store, he suggested, “Why don’t you let me take the boys clothes shopping while you and Amy go and pick up some groceries?”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Patricia protested. “Isn’t there something you’d like to do for yourself while we’re in town?”

  “Only a phone call or two to make,” he replied, thinking of his agent and wondering if he was any closer to signing a contract than when he had been laid up in the hospital.

  He knew his doctor would be amazed at his recuperative powers. Fresh air, blue skies, physical labor and some honest-to-goodness home cooking had done more for him than any prescribed therapy. Of course, staying off bulls didn’t hurt any, either. Cameron was surprised how little he missed the arena. The glamour, the glory, the adrenaline-packed thrills seemed tawdry somehow when held beside the picture that presented itself in front of the local grocery store. That of a contented man helping a woman and children out of a pickup.

  When his hand touched hers and Patricia smiled into his eyes, Cameron felt the desire to kiss her again. And again. And again.

  “We’ll meet you back at the truck in about forty-five minutes,” he told her.

  She pressed a worn fifty-dollar bill into the palm of his hand. “Here,” she said firmly. “You should be able to get a couple pairs of cheap jeans for both boys with this. And if it isn’t enough, I’ll make up the difference later.”

  Cameron slipped the money into his pocket. “I’m sure it’ll be enough.”

  Watching her boys race across the street in their new clothes, Patricia knew she should have been mad. But the look of pure excitement blazing on their faces made it impossible to feel anything but gratitude for the man who had obviously overspent her self-imposed limit. Johnny and Kirk were sporting new boots, fashionable jeans and shirts, and expensive cowboy hats. Not the straw variety that harried mothers were badgered into buying at the local carnival, the kind that wore out in a couple of day’s play, but the genuine article. She couldn’t remember the boys looking happier.

  “I hope you don’t mind my picking up a few extra little things,” Cameron said. “But we ran into a heck of a sale. They were practically giving stuff away, Patricia.”

  Having grown to love the way her name rolled off his tongue like poetry, she bit the inside of her cheek to refrain from saying anything to damper the boys’ enthusiasm. And to keep from spilling tears of appreciation. “I can see that.”

  Puzzled by unshed tears glistening in those beautiful eyes of hers, Cameron added feebly, “There’s just enough left over for a couple of ice cream cones.”

  Squirming beneath the warmth of the look Patricia gave him, he felt relief flood his senses. For a minute there he thought she was going to demand he return the goods. And that would have hurt him worse than she could have imagined. The looks of pure joy on those boys’ faces when he had loaded up the counter had given a new meaning to the old adage about it being better to give than to receive. Certainly what he’d received from them was without price.

  “And this is from me out of my paycheck,” he said, handing her a small sack. “Hope it fits all right.”

  Inside was the frilliest little girl dress Patricia had ever seen. Red-and-white-dotted Swiss adorned with enough ribbons to make Minnie Pearl blush, it was the type of dress a doting father would bestow upon the apple of his eye. The kind of thing that Patricia wished Hadley had bought his daughter. Unfortunately, the thought would never have crossed his preoccupied mind. She pulled the tiny garment from the sack and held it up to her own heart.

  “Amy will love it,” she assured him. Almost as much as I do.

  “How do I look, Mom?” Kirk asked, throwing out his thin chest in an attempt to burst his buttons.

  “You both look very handsome.”

  “As handsome as Cameron?�
�� Johnny inquired with a hopeful grin.

  “Almost,” Patricia said, taking a moment to lose herself in his fathomless blue eyes. The intimacy of his returning gaze made her feel breathless and expectant. He was close enough that his heady masculine scent was able to work its spell on her, and for a brief, magical minute Patricia could actually envision him as a permanent part of her life.

  “Almost,” she repeated, breaking the enchantment of the moment with a generous smile. “Give yourself a few years, boys, and you’ll be just as heartbreakingly good-looking as him.”

  Lately the boys had both taken to imitating Cameron’s mannerisms, and the truth was they looked so alike standing there with their respective thumbs hitched in their front pockets that it was uncanny. Anyone passing them on the street would have assumed they were bonded by blood.

  Cameron swelled up in his own shirt much like Kirk had. He found Patricia’s kind words an uncomfortable fit. “Let’s go get that ice cream,” he suggested, shrugging off any awkwardness he was feeling.

  The offer met with everyone’s hearty approval.

  In addition to serving the best malts in town, the Dairy Barn boasted “fifties charm.” As long as autumn held to snowless skies, high school part-timers bustled out to waiting customers’ cars on roller skates. The children loved the click of metal upon cement and the anticipation of calamitous falls.

  As Cameron ordered hamburgers, fries and chocolate malts all around, Patricia enjoyed the questionable ambiance of the place. Considering that they were the only vehicle in the lot, she thought it odd that the next customer pulled in beside them just as close as possible.

  An old lady with a tight perm and blue hair peered at the raucous bunch in the pickup beside her. Patricia recognized her as Mildrid Coleman, Elliott’s mother. Terrified that she might lose her middle-aged son to the young Widow Erhart, Mildrid clucked her disapproval whenever Elliott stopped to talk to her on the street.