“You’re kidding!”
He held up a hand. “Scout’s honor.”
“I love it.” Awkwardness momentarily forgotten, Nina grinned at the image. “I’m so going to use that against her one of these days.”
“Please do. And make sure to mention how I had to create a distraction so she could use the bathroom and escape.”
She couldn’t stop the chuckle. “You did?”
“Hey, what are big brothers for? I grabbed a beer and gave a rambling toast about patriotism and family, keeping it up until I heard her car pull away. So she owes me. And now, by extension, she owes you. Which is only fair, considering that she stuck you here with me.”
The reminder dug a little, but it didn’t totally dispel the warmth that came from his obvious affection for Cheryl and the other members of his family. She liked how he didn’t say anything about his sister’s two failed marriages or single-mom status, or the admittedly questionable decisions that had gotten her to that point. He just accepted her, cared for her. Loved her.
Glancing away from him, she was surprised to see how much the scenery had changed already. The grass was sparser, with fewer flowers and more rocks, turning things rugged and wild. Up ahead in the middle distance rose a hulking rock that looked like a chopped-off mountain, and a scattering of smaller shapes might’ve been a group of ramshackle cabins near the shadow of a cave mouth.
She gestured to it. “Think that’s where we’re headed?”
“Could be.” He scanned the horizon. “Seems strange, doesn’t it, thinking about moving stolen cows across wide-open country like this? No satellites, helicopters, or infrared search technologies to worry about, just whether or not you could get from point A to point B without anybody seeing you and your horse.”
“And a whole bunch of cows, plus their dust trail.”
“There’s that. And get a load of those cabins compared to the ones back at the ranch. One room each, no bathrooms or amenities. . . . I’m betting the guys who lived there didn’t have much in the way of wives.”
“Or second dates.”
The look he shot in her direction made her wish she’d kept her mouth shut. Nothing said “I’m not over what happened” like making little digs about it.
“Yeah. About that.” His tone was suddenly serious.
“Don’t.” She held up a hand. “That was supposed to be a joke, not a hint, or whatever. Let’s not go there. Please. I promise that I won’t say anything else on the matter if you won’t.”
“What if I want to?”
That brought a little shimmy to her belly. “Why would you?”
“Maybe because I wish things had turned out different.”
And maybe he did, but only because Cheryl had stranded them together, making it convenient. “If you really meant it, you would’ve called six months ago.” She took a breath, and was surprised to feel steadier, like she had needed to get that out there. “Not every good first date is meant to go anywhere.”
“It was a great first date,” he said firmly. “And we never had a chance to see if it could’ve gone further because I didn’t make enough of an effort.”
She blinked at him, thrown suddenly off balance even though Moon was steady beneath her. “Um . . .”
“I made you feel like I didn’t have time for you, like you would have to take what I was willing to give.”
Moon sped up, though she wasn’t sure if that was because she’d unknowingly kicked him, or if he was picking up her inner turmoil. “Ben . . .”
“Let me make it up to you. No, strike that. Let me have another chance. A do-over, a Mulligan, whatever you want to call it.”
Two days ago, if anyone—except maybe Cheryl—had told her she would be riding out in the Wyoming countryside next to Ben Sullivan, with a request for a do-over hanging in the thin, crisp air, she would’ve said they were nuts. More, she would’ve said there was no way she would even consider it.
It was crazy, reckless, potentially stupid . . . but she was on vacation, darn it. And her whole plan coming out here was to throw herself headlong into any and all activities that sparked her enthusiasm, no matter how far they were from her usual routine.
Looking over at him and suddenly feeling like her boots and Stetson were broken in and she really belonged in the Wild West heading for a rustlers’ hideout, she shot him a slow smile from beneath the brim of her hat and said, “What did you have in mind, cowboy?”
He grinned. “Let me buy you dinner tonight.”
Her laugh felt breathless, her body like it was floating up and off the gently rocking saddle. “Rustlers’ Week is a package deal. Dinner is included.”
“Then let me get it to go, and we’ll find someplace private, just the two of us.”
“A second date?” She tried to make it sound like a joke.
“Let’s call it date one-point-five. I think I should have to work for date number two. You know, back in the real world.”
“Does that mean you’re not just looking for a vacation fling?” There, she had said it.
“We’ll have to see how things go, won’t we? Starting with tonight.”
Tonight . . . Taking a breath, she nodded. “Okay, yes. Dinner.”
“Good. It’s a date.”
The word shivered through her, but she didn’t let him see how much it mattered. Instead, she waved at Traci, who was beelining in their direction on Lots-of-Spots. “Here comes Traci, no doubt wanting to make sure you’re not hassling me.”
“Only a little, I hope.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll tell her you were a total gentleman.”
“Appreciate it.” As Traci drew near, he leaned in close to Nina, and said in a low voice, “Meet me by the boathouse at seven tonight.” Then, tipping his hat to Traci with a polite “Enjoy your afternoon, ladies,” he rode away, sitting tall in the saddle like he spent eighty hours a week out on the range rather than in the hospital, and looking utterly at home in his own skin.
Traci watched him go, lips pursed. Then, shooting Nina a sidelong look, she said, “Girl . . . I’m not sure if I just interrupted something good or saved you from doing something you’d regret.”
And that was the real question, wasn’t it?
Chapter Four
That night, Ben headed for the boathouse a few minutes early, hauling a heavy picnic basket and trying manfully not to limp. Exploring the restored rustlers’ shacks and the rugged confines of Keyhole Canyon had been a blast, but he was feeling it now, with aches in muscles he’d forgotten he owned and sore spots from where his jeans had chafed in places where chafing really didn’t belong.
Still, though, none of that blunted the oh, yeah reaction that went through him when he saw that Nina was already there, leaning back against the log-cabin wall and watching his approach.
She was wearing a flowing, brightly patterned sundress that moved around her legs in the gentle breeze, and had left her dark hair down to tumble around her bare shoulders in loose curls that made a man want to reach out and touch, and see if they were as soft and lively as they looked.
Beautiful, he thought. Unforgettable. And he was glad he’d asked her to meet him.
He hadn’t gotten up this morning planning on doing any such thing—he’d still been pretty intent on keeping his distance and foiling his meddling little sister’s efforts. But he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off Nina from the moment she walked into breakfast and sat down with Traci. He’d tried to hide it, but he’d been fixated on her—on the way laughter lit her face, her easy grace, and her gentle acceptance of her bay slug of a horse who couldn’t even give a snail a run for its money. Instead of prodding the lazy creature, she had enjoyed the ride and reveled in the moment. Which was a skill he was working on these days—enjoying life, even the simplest parts of it.
And, watching her, he’d been forced to admit he’d made a mistake. Maybe not in cooling things off initially, but in not calling her after everything had changed.
Mayb
e he’d be able to make up for that now, even if it meant letting Cheryl say “I told you so.”
He started down the hillside toward her, and she pushed away from the boathouse and came to meet him, but they stopped an arm’s length away. He hesitated for a second, not sure what his move should be. Normally he’d go for a gentlemanly peck on the cheek or, if his date looked willing, on the lips. But this wasn’t a first meeting, wasn’t a second date. It was more like probation.
Going with his gut, he closed the distance between them, looped his free arm around her, and pressed his cheek to hers. She was light and lithe against him, her soft curls brushing his throat and surrounding him with a scent that made him think of the sun warming the meadows that morning, burning off the mist and making everything clean and fresh. He held her a moment too long, felt her lean in, and was tempted to tighten his grip.
Instead, he made himself let go.
When she drew away, her cheeks were pink, her eyes bright and flustered.
He cleared his throat, not sure what had just happened. Since when did he get overwhelmed by a simple touch? “Hey there,” he said, which was lame, but all he could manage right then.
“Hey back,” she answered, and it seemed like they had exchanged far more than four words.
“I feel underdressed.” And also keyed up, which was a surprise. But where he knew the rhythm and routine of city dating, this was different.
Her lips curved. “I brought jeans in case this was too much.”
“It’s great. It’s perfect. You look lovely.”
She looked back toward the boathouse and the deep blue lake beyond. Fed from the fish-stocked stream that ran through the valley, it sported an L-shaped dock with several perky boats tied and waiting. “Are we going sailing?”
“We can if you want. Not much beats a picnic dinner on the water.”
“But . . . ?”
“But that’ll put us in full view of the dining hall. I think the gazebo would give us a nice view of the sunset without serving us up as a floor show for the others.”
Mocking a shudder, she said, “Sold. Lead on.”
“Ladies first,” he said, but then took her hand so they were walking side by side. When her dress flared around her ankles and he caught a flash of leg, he covered the surge of heat with a chuckle. “Cool boots.”
She paused to extend one foot, and studied a pointy-toed cowboy boot done in a purple hue that made him think of Easter baskets and neon Peeps. “They’re silly, but they make me smile. Not to mention, I’m helpless against the lure of ‘buy one pair, get a second half off.’ ” “
“Ah. A second trait you share with my sister.”
As they started walking again, she said, “Oh? What’s the first one?”
“You’re also a fan of fried chicken, if I recall correctly.” Lifting the hamper, he ignored the twinge in his shoulder. “Country fried with all the fixings, plus brownies for dessert.”
She made a sexy “mmm” noise. “I can see I’m going to need to watch it out here, or I’m going to come home from this vacation ten pounds heavier than I left.”
“I thought that was one of the signs of a great vacation. Besides, I’d wager we burned off this many calories and more today.”
“I know, right?” She rubbed her rear end, laughing. “You think the horse is doing all the work until you get off and your legs won’t hold you.”
“Well, then, I vote we take a load off and dig into these calories.”
“Motion seconded and carried, cowboy.”
And, just that easily, they fell back into the fun, easy rhythm of their first date, the one that had made him feel like he was hanging out with a longtime friend with the added bonus of chemistry, and had left him thinking she wasn’t anything like the women he usually dated. At the time, he hadn’t been sure that was a good thing.
Their bodies bumped as they mounted the three short stairs to the gazebo, which was a rustic octagon of stained logs, with a tongue-and-groove roof and deeply cushioned furniture set around a low table. He nudged a loveseat around so it faced the setting sun and put their backs to the rest of the ranch. “Have a seat and relax. I’ll serve.”
He did the drinks first, pouring them each some of the wine that had been included when he requested a picnic for two. “We’ve got a Chardonnay, though I’m not sure what’s supposed to go with fried chicken.”
“In my opinion? Everything.” Her open, happy smile and the way she tipped the glass in his direction put a strange pressure in his throat, like the air was trying to escape.
Clearing his throat, he held out his glass. “A toast, then. To rustlers, fried chicken, and second chances.”
She touched her glass to his. “To second chances.”
• • •
They chatted through dinner much as they had on their first date—easily, teasingly, so even the quiet pauses felt warm and natural, and a warm, bubbling excitement gathered inside Nina’s chest. She kept it in check, though. She had come away from their first date thinking she had found something special, only to discover that their connection hadn’t been as important to him as it had been to her. He’s still the same guy, she reminded herself. Nothing has changed.
That didn’t fit quite right, though. Because as the sun set with a vivid wash of purple and orange and they lingered over brownies and a second glass of wine each, she couldn’t stop thinking that he wasn’t the same as he’d been before. She couldn’t put her finger on it, though. Was it their surroundings, the aftereffects of a long day in the saddle, or something more?
Catching her staring at him, he paused with his wine glass lifted. “Problem?”
She shook her head, not so much denying it as not sure how to put it into words. “You seem . . . different, I think.”
His expression shifted, going serious, but not in a bad way. “I am different, I think.”
“Because you’re on vacation?”
“It’s more than that.” He paused, then said slowly. “Five months ago, give or take, I was in a car accident.”
“You . . .” Whatever she might’ve expected him to say, that wasn’t it. “Are you okay?” It was a dumb question—he was sitting right there after a hard day’s ride, looking in perfect health. “What happened?”
“It was on the way back from a meeting over at Memorial General. I was riding shotgun and my buddy Dean was driving. We were talking about our last fishing trip, making plans for another, when wham.” He clapped his hands together, making her jump. “A guy in a box truck ran a light and plowed into us, spun us right into oncoming traffic.”
“Oh.” She lifted a hand to her mouth.
“I was mostly just banged and bruised, thanks to the airbags, but Dean was hurt pretty bad. I, ah, did my best but there wasn’t much I could do, I was that shaky. I mostly just kept everyone else from moving him before the paramedics got there.”
“Did he . . .”
“He made it. He’s fine. Came back to work a few weeks later, in fact, and I was damn glad to see him.” He paused. “The other driver was okay, too, though he’s going through the wringer with his bosses and the insurance companies, and rightly so. He wasn’t drunk, wasn’t on the phone, wasn’t anything. He just zoned out, and nearly got all three of us killed.”
She shuddered, trying not to picture it. “Scary.”
“Very. But for better or worse it put a few things into perspective for me.”
A new shiver went through her, bringing the sense that things had just shifted into a new gear, one labeled Pay attention. This is important. “Like what?”
He looked up from his wine and met her eyes. “Like how I needed to make the time and room to have someone important in my life.”
Warmth prickled through her, heating her face with a flush she hoped he couldn’t see in the fading light. Don’t make this into more than it really is. “So, ah . . . what have you done about it?”
His quick grin lit his face. “Well, for starters, I got a dog.
”
Which so wasn’t what she’d expected to hear. “Really?”
“Actually, it’s Reilly. As far as I can tell, he’s part goldie, part Irish Setter and part Brillo pad. He’s about nine months old now, finally got the housebreaking thing down, has feet the size of my hands, and will do just about anything for bacon.” He chuckled. “Adopting him was one of the best things I ever did.”
“Congratulations,” she said softly, and she wasn’t talking about just the dog. She held out her glass. “To Reilly.”
He tapped in a toast. “To making changes for the better.”
Chapter Five
The next day the wannabe rustlers rode from sunrise to sunset, making a wide loop out from Mustang Ridge to the ranch’s upper pastures, where the wranglers coached them in tracking the scattered herds and cutting out a few “slow elk” that looked worth stealing. That was what the long-ago rustlers had called cattle that either weren’t branded or had brands that could be reworked into their own. Granted, the animals in question all belonged to Mustang Ridge, but the make-believe was entertaining and the buffalo-brown creatures tolerated the shenanigans with some lowing and a few halfhearted kicks as they humped out of the herd and back again, with the dudes wobbling in hot pursuit.
Ben stayed close to Nina most of the day, not because he doubted Moon’s ability to keep her safe—lazy or not, it turned out that he could spin on a dime and had good cow sense—but because he plain wanted to be around her.
He liked watching her eyes light as the terrain changed around them, from ridgeline to prairie to a series of dry riverbeds with crumbled edges that shifted beneath the horses’ hooves. He liked the way she sat in her saddle, soft and relaxed with her eyes up and her heels down, her weight centered in the middle of her body no matter where Moon took her. She wasn’t quite a cowgirl, but she was a far cry from any other city girl he’d ever known. None of them had ever made his blood heat with a smile or his pulse race from a passing knee-bump as they rode together, chatting about nothing and everything, and leaving him thinking he’d never had a better time.
Sunset At Keyhole Canyon: A Mustang Ridge Novella (A Penguin Special from Signet Eclipse) Page 3