Or maybe—probably—he needed to get a grip.
She opened the door at his knock, expression light and happy, smoothing out his unaccountable jitters. “You’re here!” She was wearing another swirly sundress, this one a bright lemon yellow with tiny blue flowers on it, with delicate sandals in place of her boots. After giving him an up-and-down, she grinned. “You look great.”
“You too. You look . . .” He fumbled the compliment when none of the old standbys felt right and he couldn’t come up with anything better. Not now, with his senses suddenly full of her. “Here, this is for you.” He offered the pretty purple wildflowers that he’d picked for her, just a single sprig because it had seemed right at the time. Now he thought he should’ve gone with an armload of the things.
Her smile widened as she took it, touched it to her cheek. “Thanks. It’s beautiful. And it’ll be a nice reminder once we’re . . . you know.”
Back home. “I know.” He didn’t want to think about it, though. Not yet. Crooking an arm, he tipped his head toward the dining hall. “Shall we?”
Dinner was a whirl of food, laughter, and the solid vibe of the friendships that had formed over the course of the week. Most of them probably wouldn’t last past the airport or a couple of e-mails after, but that didn’t make them any less real right now, any less fun.
After a boisterous meal, as the servers were clearing the tables and Krista and the others slipped away to finish setting up the bonfire, Traci lifted her beer in a toast. “To the Keyhole Canyon Gang. May we meet back here this time next year for another week of cattle thieving!”
That got a whoop and a ragged cheer, and Ben lifted his drink and clinked glasses with Traci across the table, and then with Nina beside him. Their eyes met at the same time as their glasses, and she winked. “To the Keyhole Canyon Gang.”
“To the Keyhole Canyon Gang,” he echoed, but inwardly, he added, To meeting back here the same time next year. And, realizing that his mind’s eye saw him and Nina arriving together, he smiled.
“What is that look for?” she asked, playfully nudging him with an elbow.
“I’m happy,” he said, and realized it was true. He wasn’t worried about tomorrow, wasn’t thinking about patients or politics. He was there, with her, enjoying the moment. Rising, he held out a hand. “Can I escort you to the dance?”
“Absolutely.” She let him pull her to her feet, and then stretched up on her toes, brushed her lips across his and whispered in his ear, “You can take me anywhere you’d like, cowboy.”
His pulse went off-kilter for a moment and his fingers tightened on her, pressing too hard. But then he eased up, eased back, and grinned. “Let’s start with dancing and see where we go from there.”
And boy, howdy, did they ever dance.
As the sun went down and the stars came out, and the bonfire grew from a small flame to a full-throated roar that threw heat in all directions, Ty played the guitar while Krista got the greenhorns dancing, only excusing them long enough to toast a marshmallow or two before chivvying them back into the pagan circle that formed around the huge fire.
The Chicken Dance and Hokey Pokey were raucous fun, the Macarena a cheesy memory of old times and wedding DJs, and the square dances were a whirl of instructions and music that dissolved into laughter as the dudes bumbled into each other. But best of all were the slow songs, the ones that gave Ben an excuse to pull Nina into his arms, mold their bodies together, and sway together, feet barely moving as he breathed in her scent, kissed her temple, her cheek, her lips.
As the night cooled around them, the air chilling quickly when they strayed beyond the bonfire’s radiance, their bodies got closer, their kisses longer, and he was aware that a few of the others had said their farewells and headed back to their cabins.
The firelight reflected on the rippling water of the lake, flickers of orange stretching up to touch the silvery disk of the moon with a natural simplicity that he wouldn’t see back home. Sure, there was moonlight back home, cast by the same moon, the same stars, but it was nothing like the wide-open Wyoming sky. One thing wasn’t going to change, though. He was bound and determined to make sure of it.
Nina. He wanted her, wanted to be with her, to keep her, to make things work with her.
The song ended, leaving him standing there with her in his arms, wishing the music would keep going.
“It’s getting late.” She arched a look up at him. “Going to walk me to my cabin, cowboy?”
“Not tonight.” Seeing the flash of hurt, he tightened his arms around her. “I shouldn’t. Not tonight.” Not when he wasn’t sure he would be able to walk away.
“Oh.” Comprehension flooded her features. “Oh. Um.” A sexy smile teased the corners of her lips. “Want to walk me to my cabin . . . and come inside?”
His body tensed with want, hardened with overwhelming temptation. But he heard the hesitation in her voice, saw the questions in her face, and knew it wasn’t the right answer.
Like their second kiss, they weren’t quite there.
“Next time,” he said in a low-voiced growl that turned it into a promise.
Her eyes widened, but after a moment, that secret smile played around her mouth. “On our second date? What kind of a girl do you think I am?”
My girl. The words popped into his head, but he kept them there, deep inside. Later, he told himself. He still had things to prove to both of them. “That’s right. Our second date, back in the big, bad city. You pick the day and time, and I’ll take care of the rest.”
“Not a fancy restaurant.”
His grin went crooked. “No way. I know you better than that now.” An afternoon at a flea market or a trail ride in the hills north of the city would entertain her far more than a four-star meal. And how cool was that? “I’ll get creative.”
Her eyes lit. “Well, when are you off next week? Give me some help here.”
“Nope. Pick a night and I’ll make it happen. Switch a shift, call in dead, whatever it takes.” Trust me, he urged her inwardly. I’m going to make room for you this time. When she started to speak, though, he covered her lips with his, silencing her with a slow and thorough kiss. It was a long moment before they parted, another before he said, rough-voiced, “On second thought, tell me tomorrow before we leave. That’ll give us both something to look forward to.” Because he had a feeling it was going to be a long night.
Chapter Nine
The next morning, part of Nina was grateful Ben hadn’t stayed the night—not just because it made her think he was really serious about making things work back home, but because it meant he didn’t see her get misty-eyed as she tucked her purple boots under a layer of denim that wasn’t stiff and new anymore.
She wasn’t leaving him behind, she reminded herself. She was just leaving the ranch and taking a week of wonderful memories back home with her . . . along with the promise of something new and exciting in the city. Still, she couldn’t stop from hesitating before she packed her rustler’s bandana and zipped her suitcase.
She was sad to leave her cabin, sad to shut the door one last time. You’ll be back next year, she told herself, and that helped some. But at the same time, her thoughts threatened to skip ahead to her return. Where would she be then? So much had changed in a week, what more would be different a year from now? Don’t go there. You need to take it one step at a time.
“Not to mention, you need to get a grip,” she said aloud, and headed for the main house, trying not to let her feet drag.
A mountain of luggage sat near the bus, but the parking lot was deserted, the rest of the guests at breakfast. She added her bag to the pile and turned toward the dining hall, but then an instinct had her stopping and turning back.
And she saw him.
Ben stood leaned up against the back of the bus, arms crossed over his chest as he watched her from beneath the tipped-down brim of his Stetson. In jeans, a dark T-shirt, and boots that had a layer of dust on them, he looked every inch a cowbo
y. Every inch hers.
“Hel-lo, gorgeous,” she murmured to herself as she crossed to him, heart singing.
“Good morning yourself, gorgeous.” He caught her hands and drew her in for a warm kiss that was growing more familiar, but felt different each time. Now, it was achingly tender, sending a poignant pang through her body.
When it ended, he pressed his forehead to hers and held her a moment longer, as if he, too, was caught between wanting to stay right there, and wanting to make the break and prove their relationship would work. “You sure you don’t want to ride back with me?”
She hesitated, but shook her head. “No, thanks. I’d like to leave the way I came in.” Sitting next to Traci with her face pressed to the one-way glass. “It seems like the right thing to do.”
He kissed her brow. “When can I see you again?”
And there it was, the question she had wrestled with more than she had expected during the night. It was tempting—too tempting—to meet up with him tonight or tomorrow, to pick up right where they left off and keep the momentum going. Instead, after a brief pause, she said, “I think Friday would be nice.”
“I think tonight would be better. Tomorrow. Monday at the latest.”
The low, intense statement made her feel better, confirming that she wasn’t the only one dreading the lonely week ahead. “Yes, it would . . . but I want us to have the week to shake off our vacations.”
He exhaled, but then nodded slowly. “Then Friday it is. I’ll pick you up after work.” He paused. “Can I call you in the meantime?”
“I hope you will.”
“Good. That’s . . . good.”
“Hey, Nina?” Traci popped her head around the corner of the bus, looking sheepish. “Sorry to interrupt, but breakfast is over, the bus is loaded, and Junior is about ready to go. You coming?”
“I’m . . .” She tightened her grip on Ben, but nodded. “Yes, I’ll be right there.”
As Traci disappeared, Nina made herself let go of Ben and take a big step back despite the ragged pressure in her chest. You’re fine without him, she reminded herself, surprised that a big part of her needed to hear that, be reminded of it. But she was starting to think that while she might be fine without him, she was much, much better with him.
“So . . .” She forced a smile. “I guess I’ll see you.”
“You will.” It was low, fervent. He pulled her in for a hard, possessive kiss. “You better get moving.”
“I know. I’m going.” But she went up on her tiptoes and kissed him again. Then she let go with a last, lingering squeeze, and made herself walk away. At the corner of the bus, she stopped for a last look back, and found him still standing where she had left him.
He lifted a hand, but didn’t say anything. She waved back, trying not to let it feel like good-bye.
Traci had saved her seat on the bus, and gave her a one-armed hug of sympathy as she sat. “You okay?”
“I’m . . . Yeah, I’m good.” She was a little surprised to find that it was true, even as she pressed her face against the glass to watch Ben. He stood beside his SUV, arms folded, watching the bus. His eyes were trained on her, even though she knew he couldn’t see through the tint.
It hurt to leave him, but they needed to take this home, see if it would work when they had more demands on their time, more complicated decisions than whether to ride out or go fly-fishing.
Engine revving, the bus got underway, taking a wide circle around the parking area. Nina watched Ben until she couldn’t see him anymore, until they rolled through the iron archway that marked the edge of the homestead and spelled out “Mustang Ridge” in welded horseshoes.
As the gates disappeared into the distance, her phone vibrated, startling her, as she hadn’t gotten reception most of the week. Hadn’t missed it. She thought about ignoring it, imagining the messages that had piled up while she was gone. But on a suspicion, she checked the cell.
Sure enough, there were a bunch of messages, but the last one was the one she wanted. It was a text from Ben. It said: I’ll see you Friday after work. I promise.
Chapter Ten
By Friday afternoon, Ben was strung tight with anticipation. He wanted to see Nina, wanted to be with her, touch her, talk to her, and prove to her that things between them were solid, that what had happened between them at the ranch wasn’t just a vacation fling—it was the real thing.
“You okay, man?”
Startled by the question, he swung around in the wide hospital corridor to where Dean Mills, his friend and lucky-dog coworker with the great family, had stopped to stare back at him. “I’m fine. Why?”
“You were whistling.”
Ben laughed. “I was? What song?”
“Sounded a little like Home on the Range. You still in vacation head?”
“Try weekend head.” Ben stretched his arms wide. “I’m off shift in an hour, not back on until first thing Monday.” Which meant sixty-some glorious hours free to spend with Nina.
Dean’s eyebrows climbed. “You’re taking an actual weekend? This have anything to do with the lady from the ranch?”
“I’m seeing her tonight.” His feet moved in an almost-dance that he managed to suppress.
“You’re sunk.” Dean was grinning, though. “Congrats, man. Now, don’t mess it up.”
“I won’t.” No way, no how, not this time, he told himself, repeating it to himself over the next hour as he checked in on his patients and made a few follow-up calls, including one to confirm their reservation at Chester’s Barbecue.
He doubted it would come close to Gran’s cooking, but figured it was worth a try. If nothing else, Nina would get a kick out of the talking taxidermy. Chester’s wouldn’t usually be his pick for a romantic date, granted, but there was nothing usual about Nina, or the way he felt about her. He could be himself with her, take her to his favorite places and not worry about impressing her or being Dr. Sullivan. He could just be Ben—heck, she liked him better that way.
Whistling, he checked his watch and headed for the main desk.
“Ben!” He turned to find Dean headed his way under full steam. “I need you.”
“No, you don’t. I’m leaving. In fact, I’m already gone.” But his gut clenched with an oh, hell. He knew what that look meant. “Talk to Delbridge. She’s on duty as of five minutes ago.”
“Sorry, man. Crack-up on the Ten, she’s stuck behind it, and we’re getting the casualties. The ER is sending up a bunch for surgery, at least one who needs you bad.”
“They . . . Okay, right.” Admitting defeat, Ben took a deep breath and shifted gears with the ease of long habit. But where it usually wasn’t a problem, now the gears stuck and squeaked, and a large part of him wanted to downshift and peel out of there. He couldn’t do that to the patients, though. With a wave toward the break room, he said, “I need to call Nina, tell her I can’t make dinner.”
“She’ll understand.”
“She . . .” He exhaled. “Yeah. Of course.” But understanding wasn’t the same thing as signing on for missed dates, late dinners, and not being able to depend on him to show up. She’d been honest about that from the get-go.
Dean gripped his shoulder. “She’ll understand,” he repeated firmly. “If she doesn’t, then she’s not the right woman for you. This is what we do, Ben. It’s who we are. Yeah, it’s important to balance family with the job, but the balancing act goes both ways. I make time for Michelle and the kids, and they work around me when necessary. If it’s meant to be with the dude ranch lady, then she’ll understand.”
“Eventually, sure, but right now—” Ben broke off and shook his head. “Never mind. I’ll go make the call.”
He found a private corner while the intercom came alive and feet started hurrying in the hallway as teams assembled for the incoming crash victims. And, dang it, his call went to voice mail.
“Ah . . .” He wanted to hang up, wanted to go find her in person, tell her face-to-face that this wouldn’t happen ev
ery week, or even every month. But the elevators pinged and opened, and he caught terse snippets of information that said the first patient had hit the floor. “This is Ben.” Which she no doubt knew from caller ID. “I, uh, I can’t make it tonight. There’s been an accident, multiple victims—” He bit off the excuses. “I want to be there, Nina, I swear. I’ve been looking forward to it all week. Talking on the phone just isn’t the same thing. I want to see you, be with you, hear you laugh . . .” The intercom blooped and called his name. “This isn’t more of the same from me. You’re more important than that, I swear. Just . . .” He didn’t want to say “give me another chance,” because this had been his second chance, maybe third. “Don’t give up on me, okay? Please. I don’t want to lose you.”
He disconnected, afraid it wouldn’t be enough. Half convinced it shouldn’t be.
“Ben?” Dean’s hail came from out in the hallway amid the pounding feet.
“On my way,” he called back, and shoved to his feet. But as he headed back to work, there was little of the usual excitement. He was confident he could help the patients, but far less sure he could help himself. Not this time. Not with Nina.
The surgery—his part of it, anyway—was intense, but didn’t take all that long, and the wall clock put it just shy of nine p.m. as he stripped off his gloves and gown, and emerged back into the muted hustle of his home turf. But where before the familiar space would have settled him, reminding him that he was exactly where he was supposed to be, doing what he was meant to do, now he sorely wished he was at Chester’s Barbecue with Nina. Or, better yet, back at the ranch, where things had been so much easier than they were out here in real life.
Sunset At Keyhole Canyon: A Mustang Ridge Novella (A Penguin Special from Signet Eclipse) Page 6