Which was his cue to make a graceful exit, stage left, or at least pull back.
Instead, he slowly shook his head. “I don’t think we are. Things are different this time around.”
“Because of the accident?”
He nodded. “The paramedics rushed Dean and me to Davis Memorial. The ER docs took two, maybe three hours to decide that all I had were some bumps and bruises. They gave me a couple of butterfly bandages for a scalp lac, offered to watch me overnight, and didn’t seem that worried when I signed myself out instead.”
“But . . .” she said, echoing him.
“I was fine . . . but Dean wasn’t. He was in surgery by that time, prognosis guarded. When I got out to the waiting room, his wife and two kids were there, along with his parents and a sister. They hugged me, even cried over me, but I knew I was just a substitute for the guy they really wanted to see. So I waited with them, sat there another four hours, even though the doctors first tried to chase me off, then tried to put me back to bed.” His throat worked. “When the surgeon finally came out and said that Dean had made it through surgery, that he was going to be okay, you should’ve seen them. It was like . . . I don’t know. Every major holiday wrapped up together and tied with a bow.”
“You’ve never really watched a patient’s family before when they get the good news?”
“I watched, but I hadn’t really gotten what it meant, not really. Or maybe I saw, but wasn’t ready to really understand it.”
Before, she had thought this felt like a dream. Now, she was sure of it. Any minute now, she would wake up in her cabin, or maybe even back home in the city. A surreptitious pinch didn’t bring her out of it, though, and the sharp air and the warm stone beneath her seemed very real. “So you came away from the hospital thinking . . . what? That it’s time for you to get serious about a relationship?”
He nodded slowly. “I had always told myself I was looking for the right woman, that when I found my match, we’d get married and make a life together, start a family, that sort of thing. Only the accident brought it home that it wasn’t enough to look for the right woman. I need to be the guy that the right woman would fall for . . . and maybe that guy isn’t the one who works eighty hours and never gets home when he says he’s going to.”
“There are plenty of women who would be fine with that.” Especially if it came with a man like him.
But he shook his head. “I’ve dated those women, lots of them, and there’s no connection. I don’t want a partner who makes a career out of backing me up, and I don’t want one who is so independent, so busy doing her own thing that she doesn’t need anything from me. I want someone who hits the middle ground between those two, and who wants the same from me. I want someone warm, affectionate, and interested, and who makes me feel like a danged superhero, not because I’m a surgeon, but because I’m me.” He paused, voice softening. “I want someone like you, Nina. More importantly, I want you.”
Warmth feathered through her like sunlight. But, like the sunset that stained the horizon with gorgeous purples and blues, there was something cool on its heels. Only this wasn’t the coming dusk—it was the knowledge that he’d said something very similar after their first date. “If you felt that way, why didn’t you call me after the accident, and ask if we could give it another try?”
“I didn’t . . .” He shifted his shoulders, like he was trying to settle some weight more evenly. “It didn’t feel right.”
She let that sit for a moment, then nodded. “I guess I can respect that.”
“But it doesn’t exactly give you warm fuzzies.”
“It . . . I guess it leaves me thinking that if it hadn’t been for Cheryl, we never would’ve spoken again.”
“Plenty of couples get together in weirder ways.”
Warmth kicked at the “c” word, and she looked away across the lake, not wanting him to see how much it mattered, how deep she was already into him. “Fair enough.”
He caught her free hand, so they were sitting with their knees touching, their hands linked. “Just give us a chance, Nina. Let me prove that I’m willing to put in the effort this time. That’s all I’m asking. Just give us a chance.”
His low, intense tone brought her eyes back to his, and in him she saw the man she’d met that first night—not just handsome, but also a really good guy, and one who made her feel like she was important, cherished. But she saw more than that now, too—she saw the cowboy that part of him wanted to be, the guy who was still figuring himself out and making himself better, even though he had been pretty great to begin with.
She didn’t know everything about him, not by a longshot, but she knew enough to believe that he was going to try harder this time.
“Yes,” she said, swallowing a sudden giddy laugh. “Okay, yes.”
His teeth flashed, and he gave a low, fervent “Yee-haw,” and pulled her into his arms.
As she burrowed into his warmth, his strength, a noise from the far side of the lake prickled the hair on the back of her neck and brought her eyes around. Picturing bears, wolves, and everything else furry and fanged, she tightened her grip on him. “Is that— Oh, look!”
Several of the lakeshore trees rustled and shook, and moments later, a horse stepped down to the lakeshore, then another . . . three more . . . an entire herd.
“And there they are,” Ben said, like they had arrived on cue.
The alpha mare, a sturdy chestnut with a perfect star on her forehead, kept her head up and her ears pricked, staying alert as the three youngsters moved down to drink. The fading sun obscured some of the details, leaving a sense of sinuous movement, the sound of a whinny from one young horse, then an answering call. They were dusty and unkempt compared to the gentled mustangs back at the ranch, but even with shaggy coats and knotted manes, there was something about them that stirred her deep inside in a way their domesticated cousins didn’t.
“They look so free,” she whispered. “So beautiful.”
“Gorgeous,” he agreed, and the way he said it made her think he wasn’t talking only about the horses.
They watched as the herd shuffled, trading places so several mustangs could drink while the others kept watch. The magic of the moment had her leaning into him and holding on tight when his arms came around her. And when the horses slipped back into the trees like they’d never been there at all, she turned in his arms and looked up at him, inviting the kiss they’d both been wanting for days now.
He held himself back for a beat, a breathless moment when they stared at each other, caught in the moment, the sunset, and the presence of wild animals that didn’t have to worry about careers or commutes, or whether or not something that had started as a crush was rapidly becoming so much more. “Are you sure?” he said, though she hadn’t made the offer. At least not aloud.
“Oh, ye—” The rest of the word got cut off as his lips descended on hers.
Their first kiss had been a hot, heady good night, fraught with the excitement of new beginnings. This one was no less hot or fraught, but now he was taking his time. He shaped her mouth, touched his tongue to hers, and delved deep.
Warmth coursed through her, bringing a moan of heady pleasure. She clutched his waist, then ran her hands up to his broad shoulders, feeling his strength through his shirt. He made an urgent noise and pulled her body tighter against his, so she could feel his strength and urgency, which fired her own. She wanted to tug at his shirt and get her hands beneath it, wanted to taste his throat, the rasp of his jaw. Wanted . . .
She wanted. And she hadn’t done that in a long time, not like this.
Unnerved by her own response, she eased back and looked up at him. Which was a mistake, because his tousled hair—when had she run her fingers through it? She didn’t remember, but knew how it felt, knew she wanted more—and hot eyes made her want to dive back in.
“Wow,” she said, pressing her lips together to catch his flavor.
“Yeah,” he said, voice a sexy rasp. “Hel
lo, sexy.”
Remembering Traci’s “Hel-lo, gorgeous” when she first saw him, Nina had to laugh. “You can say that again.” She tightened her arms around him, burrowing in. “That was better than our first go around.”
“Everything’s better this time around,” he said firmly, “and it’s going to stay that way.” He eased them apart to look down at her, eyes intent on hers as he said, “This isn’t just a vacation fling, Nina. When we get home—”
Lifting a hand, she pressed her fingers against his lips, forestalling the promise. “Not yet.”
“Then when?”
She thought for a moment, then said, “Saturday morning, before I get on the bus. That way, if things between us have burned down by then—”
“Ha.”
Her heart bumped at his certainty, and again because she wasn’t so certain. Not about the chemistry, but about whether she could trust him. “Still, if they have, then we can go our separate ways without it being too awful.” Or, rather, it would be awful, but at least she wouldn’t have to see him after the fact.
“Fine, we’ll do it your way. That won’t change anything, mind you, but we’ll wait until then to talk about the future.” He grinned crookedly, charmingly. “Once we’re home, though, I have a feeling that Cheryl is going to get her ‘I told you so’ moment, after all.”
Chapter Seven
For Nina, the next few days passed in a dizzying whirl of the Three Rs, Mustang Ridge style—riding, roping and rustling—and the nights . . . ah, the nights. If there was a heaven on earth, it was in Wyoming with Ben Sullivan.
On Wednesday evening, they ate with the others and then sat around a campfire down by the lake while Foster strummed a guitar, and Ty and Stace recited something they called “cowboy poetry,” which turned out to be an art form all its own, as gorgeous as the terrain and as varied as the job.
Some of the poems came from old-time lore and some from the annual Cowboy Poetry Roundup in Laramie, while others were the wranglers’ own compositions. Several funny ditties about questionable baked beans, nutso bosses, and obstinate cows had Nina laughing until her sides hurt and she collapsed weakly against Ben. Then, later, a longer and more melancholy piece of Stace’s had her going misty-eyed over the wild land and its inhabitants.
After, when everything broke up for the night and Ben walked her back to her cabin, she sighed and leaned into him. “I feel . . . I don’t know. Different. Chilled out.”
“Isn’t that what vacations are for?” But his smile went crooked. “I know what you mean, though. It’s like we don’t have to prove everything right now. We’ve got time, you know? This isn’t going to be over on getaway day.”
She wasn’t sure which surprised her more—that he had known what she meant, or that he’d put it into words so neatly.
Then he moved in and kissed her, and she stopped being surprised, stopped thinking at all for a while, concentrating on the solid heat of his body pressing her against the door, the excitement of his lips on hers, his hands on hers, and the skim of her fingers over his shoulders and down his back. By the time the kiss ended, her head was spinning and her body throbbed with need, along with the crazy temptation to invite him in, keep things going, go further.
She pulled away. “Um. I think we should . . .”
“Yeah. Me, too.” He exhaled heavily, then cocked his head. “You were going to say we should slow down, right? Because if you weren’t—”
“I was. Good night.” Laughing, she nudged him back, gave him a quick peck on the lips, and then ducked into her cabin, light-headed and giddy, and whistling to herself. Home, home on the range, where the doctor and the decorator play . . .
Thursday was movie night, back-to-back showings of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and Blazing Saddles. Nina and Ben sat in the back and cuddled in the darkness, and when they said good night again on her porch, she couldn’t stop herself from holding on a moment too long, clutching just a bit too tight.
It seemed like he did the same thing, though, like she wasn’t the only one dreading Saturday.
Finally, on Friday, their last full day at the ranch, the wranglers announced that the dudes were ready for some cattle thieving. Krista dispensed outlaw bandanas for them to wear around their necks—or over their faces, if there were witnesses—and she and Foster led the mounted party up into the hills beyond Keyhole Canyon. There, they found a small herd gathered just over a shallow rise from a campsite, where two cowboys were arguing over the proper way to cook trail beans.
It didn’t matter that the cattle wore the brand of Mustang Ridge, or that the cowboys’ camp was a time-traveling mix of old and new equipment. The illusion worked. More, it added to the sense of illicit fun as the dudes crept up on the herd and set about cutting out a few slow elk.
Nina suspected the cows were rolling their bovine eyes, having played out this skit a number of times before. But between the horses’ instincts and the dudes’ hushed-up enthusiasm, everything got moving in the right direction, and within ten minutes of finding the herd, the rustlers left with a dozen fat cattle and no alarm sounded by the bickering cowboys on the other side of the hill.
“We did it!” Nina shot a grin over to Ben, who rode beside her with his bandana tied rakishly around his neck.
“We sure did. Those two never knew what hit them.” With trail dust darkening his skin and a gleam of enjoyment in his eyes, sitting easily astride his sleek bay gelding, he looked like part of the illusion. Only he wasn’t a fantasy. He was real, and he was really there, with her.
And how awesome was that?
“Next stop, Keyhole Canyon!” Krista called from the front of the herd, and the dudes whooped and pushed their “stolen” cattle after their leader.
A few hours later, after the rustlers had eaten cold lunches rather than risking a fire that might give away their hiding spot, a shady-looking cowboy appeared in the narrow canyon entrance, flanked by two even shadier – looking guys, with worn chaps and shifty eyes. Foster took charge of the negotiations, gold changed hands, and the three drove the cattle off without a backward glance.
When the last tail disappeared through the gap, Krista lifted her rope, swung a loop, and gave a big, “Yee-haw!”
The dudes picked it up good naturedly, and for a moment the rocky chasm rang with victory shouts, as it might’ve done after a real cattle raid—assuming the law wasn’t on the robbers’ trail, of course.
As things died down, Krista coiled her rope, eyes alight with enjoyment. Then, pitching her voice to carry, she said, “Congratulations, you’re officially a band of cattle thieves! Back in the day, the penalty for rustling was a noose looped over a high branch . . . but lucky for us, it’s the new millennium, and your reward is a good hot dinner back at the ranch, followed by a bonfire with music, dancing, and dessert, marking your last night of being members of the Keyhole Canyon Gang.”
Mingled cheers and “awwww”s greeted the announcement, but the mood was high as the dudes headed for their horses. Moon and Justice were close to each other, dozing in the sun, but they roused and took their bridles cheerfully enough, as if they knew that the long ride home spelled the end of their work week.
“It’s funny,” Nina said as she smoothed the woven saddle pad over her horse’s broad back, “I’m getting more of a kick out of being a cattle thief than I thought I would.”
Ben grinned over Justice’s haunches. “You mean you didn’t pick Rustlers’ Week on purpose?”
“Nope. Things were quiet at the shop, so I felt like I could take the week off without obsessively checking my e-mail.” E-mail. Now there was a foreign concept, along with voice mail, smart phones, video conferences, delivery schedules, and all the other things she hadn’t really missed. Stifling the thud of sadness that came with the thought of heading home tomorrow, she forced a smile. “It was either that or Singles’ Week.”
He mock shuddered. “I’m glad you went with cow thieves.”
“Me, too.” At the time,
she had been steering away from the pressure of speed dates, awkward getting-to-know-you conversations, and too much focus on the opposite sex when she was looking to relax. Now, she was doubly grateful for the decision—not only had Rustlers’ Week been a ton of fun, but the schedule had let her and Ben take some time away together without it being a big deal.
Except it was a big deal, wasn’t it? They had found something special.
She only hoped it would stand up in the real world—not just on his part, but hers as well. Would she be able to handle his schedule, knowing that even if he was making an effort to be with her, there would be times he’d have to cancel at the last minute?
As if reading her mind, he let Justice’s reins drop, ground-tying the obedient gelding, and came around beside her. “Here, let me.” He took the heavy saddle from her and settled it in place, then did up the cinch with practiced ease. With her tack secure, he leaned in, lowered his voice, and said, “So . . . will you go to the dance with me tonight?”
“I . . . Ah, yes. Yes, of course I will.” It shouldn’t have flustered her—they were both going to be there, and she had assumed they would sit together, as they had the past few nights. But this was something more. It was official, though not quite their second date. They were saving that for back home.
Still, the invitation made her heart bump against her ribs and brought a flush to her skin, and made her wonder what, exactly, he had in mind.
His teeth flashed. “Great. I’ll pick you up at six-thirty.”
Chapter Eight
There was no reason for Ben to be nervous as he headed up the stairs to Nina’s cabin, but it felt strange to be here during daylight, strange to be in a button-down shirt, even though it was one of his favorites. It was the same one, come to think, that he’d worn on their blind date. Women tended to pay attention to things like that, right? Maybe she would recognize it and see it as a good sign. He hoped.
Sunset At Keyhole Canyon: A Mustang Ridge Novella (A Penguin Special from Signet Eclipse) Page 5