Wyoming Born & Bred

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Wyoming Born & Bred Page 13

by Cathleen Galitz


  Patricia groaned to see the dowager of Lander, Wyoming, rolling down her window to take a long gander at the competition. Once she had made certain of Patricia’s identity, Mildrid fixed a sanctimonious expression upon her face and received the younger woman’s friendly wave with stony antipathy.

  “Looks like a poodle sniffing a turd,” was Cameron’s candid observation.

  Sorry that Mildred had overheard the comment, Patricia did her best to keep from laughing. Not wanting to set a bad example for her boys, she bit the inside of her cheek as the older lady wrestled with the manual-style window handles of her vintage-model car. Indignation puffing from her exhaust pipe, she spun out of the lot before the waitress could so much as take her order.

  “I feel like I’ve just been caught skipping class back in high school,” Patricia said with a careless little shrug.

  “Wouldn’t doubt that old biddy’s probably off to tell the principal.” Cameron bit his nails in mock horror. “Hope she says hi to Joe for me.”

  The hands on the clock of life stopped for a moment and miraculously turned backward. Encounters with school administration had been so familiar to him that he eventually had come to refer to the principal by his first name. Rumor had it that the teachers were so weary of Cameron’s attitude they had gotten together and decided to pass him just so they wouldn’t have to deal with him for another year.

  The pretty teenager who brought their orders scanned the occupants in the vehicle. Patricia noticed how her gaze lingered on Cameron and heard her infatuated sigh as she took her leave. Obviously it wasn’t every day such a fine-looking male specimen graced this establishment, and Patricia was pretty sure that she had been sent with specific instructions from the other girls inside to take careful inventory before reporting back.

  As the children wolfed down their hamburgers, the adults in the front seat shared a smile and a packet of ketchup. Patricia swished a fry in the sauce and fed it to Amy. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten out, and said so.

  Looking around at the gritty parking lot, Cameron wondered when Patricia had last eaten a meal in a nice restaurant—without the kids.

  “If I asked you out to dinner, could you arrange for a baby-sitter?” he asked with feigned nonchalance.

  The question caught Patricia off guard. Cameron seemed to have a lot of disposable income for a man working for slave wages. The groceries he had bought, the excessive spending on the children’s clothes, the fancy pickup, and now the offer to take her out to dinner. It just didn’t add up. He may have admitted to being on a nostalgia trip, but he’d said nothing about being independently wealthy.

  “If you don’t watch out, this little sentimental journey into your past is going to end up costing you instead of making you money.”

  Cameron’s laughter broke down all her reservations with a rumbling heartiness. “You’re the first woman I’ve ever met who worried I’d spend too much on her. Trust me,” he cajoled seductively, “dinner won’t break me.”

  Patricia experienced a rush of excitement at the thought of spending an evening alone with this man. With no car seat to separate them, she might just be tempted to snuggle up beside him like a schoolgirl in the throes of a crush.

  “Are you talking about a real date?” she asked.

  Good Lord, the question sounded so silly and juvenile to her own ears that she again felt transported back in time to her awkward high school days.

  “Yeah, like a real date,” Cameron responded with a boyish smile that erased years off his heart.

  “I’d say yes.”

  Challenge flashed in her dark eyes, and Cameron wished that he’d acted upon the whim he’d had back in the clothing shop where he had paid outrageous prices to outfit the boys. An expensive dress in the window had caught his eye, and he had thought how lovely Patricia would look in the soft satin folds of its classic design. But a gift of clothing to a woman felt too personal. It hinted at the promise of an intimate, lasting relationship, and as much as he was presently enjoying himself, Cameron wasn’t ready to commit to anything just yet other than regaining control of the Triple R.

  “Tomorrow night then,” he said.

  Patricia polished off the last of her fries and checked her watch. “I’m afraid it’s time to go home and feed the birds.”

  “Sonuva—” Kirk piped up in the back seat.

  Patricia gasped. “What did you say?”

  To his mother’s horror Kirk repeated himself louder and more clearly.

  “Where did you hear such language?” she demanded.

  “Cameron calls the birds that all the time,” he explained, and looked to his brother for support.

  “He’s got special names for all of them that I’d never even heard of before. Wanna hear ’em?” Johnny offered helpfully.

  Cameron hadn’t blushed in years, but his face turned as red as the ketchup on Amy’s collar as he hurried to do damage control. “I didn’t realize they paid any attention to what I mumble under my breath.”

  Patricia didn’t have to say a word to make her displeasure felt. She had expressed her concerns about his suitability as a role model right up front, and though he had resented the assertion at the time, it seemed she had a point. The look she leveled at him would have crushed the most hardened criminal.

  “Well, boys, I guess I owe you and your mom an apology. It’s been so long since I’ve been around young, innocent ears that I forgot myself. Tell you what,” he said, pausing to stroke his mustache, “how about if we come up with some different names on the way home. Names your mother’d approve of. I bet good old Dr. Seuss could help us out. I seem to remember a lazy bird by the name of Mayzie who left all her nesting responsibilities to Horton who eventually hatched a Who.”

  There was a decided undercurrent to the allusion. Having watched how the female emus dominated the males, Cameron found the parallel disturbing. If for some reason the lady birds took a dislike to a fellow, they picked on him unmercifully, running him ragged. And if they were able to corner him, they would gang up and peck at him until he was covered with bald spots. The spectacle gave new meaning to the term henpecked. The poor guy was then left to incubate the egg and raise the offspring while the female was off looking for another mate.

  “And,” he continued, trying to dismiss the image from his mind, “I believe there was a plain girlie bird named Gertrude McFuzz who was a little bit jealous of the fancy feathers of a pretty little gal by the name of Lolla-Lee-Loo.”

  “And don’t forget the grinch who stole Christmas,” Patricia supplied.

  Cameron didn’t much care for that particular reference. He knew that when Patricia finally came to understand that he had his sights set on buying back the ranch, that irascible, old grinch would look like Santa Claus next to him. Grinch was certain to be the nicest word she might use to describe him. Hoping to break the news to her over dinner, he wondered whether the lady’s choice of vernacular might not make his own breach of discretion seem rather tame.

  Chapter Twelve

  Pirouetting in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom, Patricia gave herself a mixed review. Though her hair was in need of a ruthless trim by a good stylist, it was nonetheless glossy and full. Her dress might have been a little faded, but it showed off her figure well and made her feel younger and prettier than she had in years. The last time she had been on a real date was when she was still in her teens, and she felt every bit as excited as when she had gone to the prom.

  She looked at her hands and wished there were some way to make them look presentable. As a girl, her father had inspected her nails once a week. Patricia was certain that Roland D’Winter would be aghast that her once lovely hands now looked like those of his gardener. The best she could do with them was to trim the nails evenly and push back the cuticles. Be that as it may, she felt certain by now that Cameron Wade wasn’t the kind of man who put much stock in the things that her father had.

  It was a startling revelation. Sta
nding there in her bedroom, she suddenly realized that a good deal of what was stopping her from pursuing a relationship with her foreman was the fear that he was like her father. On the surface, there were certain overt similarities. Both were strong, uncompromising men, but Cameron lacked the domineering side that had ruined her relationship with her father and encouraged her to seek out someone less demanding and more malleable as a mate. In his interactions with both her and the children, Cameron seemed willing to allow them their own individuality and encouraged a sense of self-reliance that Roland D’Winter would have found threatening. Nor did Cameron feel the need to belittle those around him like her father did to make himself look important and all knowing. The boys seemed to grow inches with just one of Cameron’s well-timed compliments. And unlike her stern father, Cameron liked to laugh. So warm and contagious, the sound of his frequent laughter resonated in Patricia’s heart.

  At the sound of the pickup rolling into the driveway, Patricia took a final twirl in front of the mirror and bid her worries farewell for the evening. That would be Cameron returning with their baby-sitter. A high school girl with her sights on being valedictorian, Jewel Hargrove was well named and always in demand as a baby-sitter. She had several younger siblings and a knack for entertaining Kirk and Johnny without insulting their budding sense of independence. Patricia felt lucky to have booked her on such short notice.

  “You sure look pretty, Mom,” Johnny commented as his mother came down the stairs.

  “Yes, you do,” Cameron echoed.

  His eyes flashed with desire and something else that Patricia couldn’t quite put her finger on. Could that possibly be possessiveness glimmering in the depths of those sky-blues?

  Kirk broke the mood by hitting his brother over the head with a throw pillow on the couch. Patricia took it away and handed it to Cameron.

  “You boys be good now, you understand? I don’t want to come home to a disaster area,” she chided gently.

  They nodded together, and she went on to give Jewel specific instructions about their bedtime, their eating habits and their television privileges. Cameron paid no attention. His concentration was fixed upon the needlework pillow in his hands and the words that had been so patiently stitched there.

  “A house is made of walls and beams; a home is made of love and dreams.”

  Those simple words pulled at his heart. For the first time since he’d set the course for recovering the Triple R, Cameron was besieged by self-doubt. What if a silly pillow held the answer to what he’d spent a lifetime searching for? Was it possible that what he was trying to buy back was neither in the lumber nor the land? Having always connected the warmth this family shared with the loving glow of his own memories of growing up here, the possibility that what he was trying to recapture could not be purchased with any amount of money was more than just a little disquieting. It was earth-shattering.

  Maintaining that she didn’t care whether it embarrassed them or not, Patricia insisted on a parting kiss from each of her children. “Have fun,” they called out as Cameroon helped Patricia into her coat. The simple courtesy made her feel so cherished that it was difficult for her to resist kissing him right there in front of everyone.

  Amy had no such qualms. She held her arms up to Cameron and demanded a goodbye kiss. No man could have resisted that charming pout framed with the stain of fruit juice. Eyes the color of aspen leaves in spring were shaded by a set of eyelashes that grown women would kill for. Taking Amy into his arms, Cameron reveled in the warmth of the kiss she placed upon his cheek.

  “Don’t you let those big brothers of yours boss you around any,” he told her.

  The obvious affection in his voice made Patricia wish she could hold the moment forever in time. Such were the simple things that make life a joyous daily adventure.

  A moment later they were on their way, and finding themselves suddenly alone, they became tongue-tied in each other’s company. Cameron was grateful that unlike so many women he knew, Patricia didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with idle chatter. When he pulled over to point out a herd of elk on the horizon, she slid naturally over to his side to peer out his window.

  He tore his gaze from the wildlife outside to linger on the beauty beside him. A simple turn of his head brought their lips close. The last time he had kissed her, Amy had been a sudsy bystander. They had both been so shocked by the intensity of that kiss that they had remained dazed in its aftermath. This time as he lowered his mouth to hers, Cameron was determined to make a slow, thorough exploration of the feelings that were threatening to raze good sense and everything he’d ever worked for.

  Heat burgeoned through Patricia like a fireball exploding her universe apart. She had tried telling herself that she had only imagined the impact of the previous kiss. She had lain awake at night rationalizing her feelings away, telling herself that she had been so deeply affected only because it had been so very long since she had been with a man. But such feeble logic was useless before the conflagration that burned away any semblance of resistance to the demands of Cameron’s mouth. Caught in a maelstrom of emotions threatening to sweep her away, she clung to the strong column of his neck as if it were a life preserver. Her fingertips riffled through his blond hair, so fine it felt like satin to the touch. It was just long enough to grab by twin handfuls and draw him closer yet. After an eternity, when the kiss ended, they were both breathing so hard that the windows had begun to fog over.

  There was no denying the chemistry between them. Together they were as flammable as kerosene and matches. Their eyes met and held for one amazing instant, mirroring the mutual longing to consummate their love in broad daylight right there on the side of the road. But when a semi whooshed past them, spitting gravel in its wake, Patricia took one of Cameron’s hands into hers and squeezed it hard. “We’d better get going,” she murmured.

  “In a minute,” he replied, dipping his head to deposit another kiss upon the hollow of her throat.

  “Mmm...”

  Throwing her head back, Patricia felt the last of her resistance evaporate like a raindrop hitting a hot window. Neither a child nor an innocent virgin, she knew exactly what it was she wanted. And she wanted this man. For the moment. Forever.

  That Cameroon wanted her, too, was not the question. But if he sullied her reputation, could Patricia and her family survive the scorn of the good people who inhabited this conservative rural community?

  “You’re right. It’s time to get going,” he agreed so suddenly that it was jarring. Obvious frustration written on his features contradicted his words.

  Patricia felt confused, but she acquiesced to logic without argument. She smoothed out her skirt and ran a shaky hand through her disheveled riot of hair in a vain attempt to gather her wits about her.

  Cameron rolled down his window and allowed fresh air to fill his lungs. Keeping one arm firmly around Patricia’s shoulders, he refused her access to the other side of the truck. She did not fight him, but instead rested her head against his chest and took comfort in the sound of his heart beating so steady and strong next to her ear. They sat there for a while longer thus entwined, entranced by the magic surrounding them. As the golden sun kissed the earth adieu, the red clay blushed a shade deeper. It seemed perfectly logical that this was the very spot where Adam had been formed from a mixture of dry dust and God’s spittle.

  Patricia ran her hands along Cameron’s ribs. Though the story of Eve being brought into being from Adam’s side had always seemed rather sexist to her, suddenly the thought of God providing soul mates for his lonely creatures gave her a sense of deep comfort and serenity.

  A haunting love song played on the radio as they drove the remainder of the way into town. There was only one fancy restaurant in town, and it wasn’t all that nice. Still it boasted a modest dance floor, and to a woman who hadn’t been on a date for over a decade, it seemed like a little piece of heaven. Not having to fix dinner, period, was a treat in itself. Patricia mentioned how simp
ly being waited on seemed strange.

  “I’m warning you,” Cameron chided with a devilish wink. “If you reach over and cut up my steak for me, I’m going to slap your hand.”

  Patricia giggled at the image. How wonderful it was to put aside her mommy persona for an evening and be in the company of a man handsome enough for a Hollywood set. She felt truly lighthearted for the first time in ages. Bills and housework and homework and sibling squabbles awaited her when she returned like Cinderella from her night out, but until the clock struck the fateful hour, Patricia was determined to enjoy herself. She refused to think a single depressing thought.

  Like how soon Cameron would be moving on and leaving a hole in her heart twice the size of Wyoming.

  He poured her a glass of wine and watched the tension drain from her features. She was a very pretty woman. Cameron couldn’t help thinking what a complete knockout she would be with a new dress and a fresh haircut. Gazing into Patricia’s refreshingly open face, he had second thoughts. A beautician could do little to improve upon her simple perfection.

  “You’re beautiful.” The look in his eyes echoed the compliment.

  Patricia smiled hesitantly, wondering whether to believe him. Hadley had never been much for sweet talk. Her father had said flattery was the devil’s work and allowed none in his home. She had to consciously refrain from discounting Cameron’s praise.

  “Thank you,” she said simply. To her surprise, the simple acknowledgment made her feel sexy and desirable.

  Seeing how uncomfortable Patricia was at receiving his compliments, Cameron again found himself wondering what kind of man her husband had been. He couldn’t have been blind to her beauty. Perhaps he was the insecure type who feared such praise would give her the confidence to leave him.

  Cameron was taken with this woman. No doubt about it. His past brimmed with failed relationships with women wanting no more from him than what his notoriety and pocketbook could provide them, but Patricia had no such motivation for bestowing the warmth of her smile upon him. Unwilling to accept his claim to fame, her attempt to melt the ice pack that had held his heart captive for so long could not be motivated by greed or self-promotion. That such a woman could like him just for himself was a wondrous thing.

 

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