Honorable Rancher

by Barbara White Daille

  And in these few short days, he’d discovered he’d done every damn-fool thing possible.

  “Coffee, Ben?”

  He looked up at Dori and nodded. “Last one. Then I’ll be getting out of your way.”

  “What is that, ‘get out of my way’? You are always welcome at the Double S.” She smiled as she topped up his mug. “It’s good to have you visit us for supper again.”

  He’d come in with a couple of his ranch hands, who had left afterward to go have a few beers. Now he’d hung around so long, he’d outstayed all the other diners. But he hadn’t worn out his welcome here, the way he had with Dana.

  As if she’d read his thoughts, Dori said, “Tess and Dana came in this afternoon with their new client. That big rodeo man, what’s his name?”

  No use pretending he didn’t know. He’d heard it often enough around Dana’s house. “Jared Hall.”

  “Yes. They hope they will make a sale to him.” She went back to the kitchen, leaving him with his coffee.

  Yeah, as if he didn’t have enough to think about, there was Jared Hall. Like Caleb Cantrell, another big rodeo star. Unlike Caleb, a man who’d caught Dana’s eye. And maybe not just for the commission.

  He scowled down at his coffee mug. Then he shook his head, knowing he was avoiding the man he needed to think about.

  Paul.

  He pushed his mug aside and dropped some bills on the table. They’d settled his check earlier so Dori could close up the cash register.

  After a quick good-night, he went out to his truck and decided to swing past Dana’s before heading to the ranch. As he’d told her the other night, it was on his way home.

  After ten o’clock now, and the shops had long ago rolled up their sidewalks. The temperature had dropped below average for the month, and most folks had their doors and windows closed, too. But at Dana’s, the front door stood open. A rectangle of light fell across the porch and down the steps to the sidewalk.

  He frowned. As he pulled to a stop in front of the house, a figure moved in the shadows of the porch. Anne, the sitter.

  She walked out to the curb. “Hi,” she said. “Dana’s not home yet.”

  “No problem. Just passing through. I saw the door open and wondered about it. Something up?”

  She shook her head. “No. Dana said Billy could come by for a while because she’s out so late with Mr. Hall.”

  Would he never get away from that name? Would Dana ever get away from the man?

  “They’re out on a date.” She giggled. “Billy and I weren’t, really, since we were just hanging out, y’know?”

  Yeah, he knew. He had gone on his fair share of those kinds of dates, too. When he’d gone out with the whole gang. And sometimes, when he’d only tagged along with Paul and Dana.

  “He just went around the corner. You must have passed him. I left the door open—” she jerked her thumb over her shoulder, indicating the house “—in case the baby cried. But the kids are all asleep, and Dana ought to be home soon.”

  “From her date,” he said in a level tone.

  She nodded.

  In spite of his...irritation, he felt better knowing she wasn’t off somewhere alone in a van that might break down.

  They said good-night, and he drove on. He could’ve kicked himself now for driving by. He didn’t need to hear the news.

  Dana and Jared Hall, out on a date. Together.

  The coffee he’d downed burned in his gut. But it told him what he’d been trying to ignore. Irritation, hell—he wanted to kick the man’s ass for even daring to look at his girl.

  And that told him the real reason for his bad attitude.

  No matter what he’d said to himself the past few days, no matter what he tried to force himself to believe about staying friends with Dana, he couldn’t do it.

  That would never be enough.

  Way back in kindergarten, he’d never had the nerve to challenge his best friend for her attention. Now he no longer had to hold himself up against a man who was gone.

  Now all he had to contend with was a real, live rodeo star.

  He turned onto Signal Street, empty of traffic, and coasted along. He didn’t plan to go by the office. They were probably out of town, anyway.

  But down the block, once again, he saw lights shining across a sidewalk. Lights from the real estate office. The office in the building he owned. He kept coasting along. He ought to make sure that no one had broken into the place—even though Dana seemed to find Flagman’s Folly the safest darned town in New Mexico.

  He pulled to the curb and looked through the storefront window. Inside the office, she sat at her desk. Alone.

  Judging by the paperwork spread out in front of her and the tape trailing from her calculator down to the floor, she’d sat there for some time.

  Whatever she needed to figure, he’d give her something else to add to her calculations. He’d always been there for her, and he wasn’t going anywhere now. He wasn’t walking away. He wasn’t losing out again. Because he was as good a man as anyone—including her rodeo star.

  She’d need some time to think that over before she could accept it. He’d give her that time, no matter how long she took.

  What did a few more years matter, when he’d already waited since kindergarten?

  * * *

  DANA SCRIBBLED ANOTHER NUMBER on her notepad and made a face at it. The total hadn’t changed since the previous week. And Jared still hadn’t made up his mind.

  Sighing, she put down her pencil. He was an intelligent man, good at conversation, and with a face any woman would love seeing across the table at a cozy little Italian restaurant. She had loved it tonight, too, no denying that. But that’s as cozy as she would get. He just wasn’t the man for her.

  When he’d asked for another date, she had turned him down gently, hoping it wouldn’t affect his decision about buying property. Either way, she couldn’t pin all her expectations on a sale to him.

  After dropping him off at the Whistlestop, she should have gone home. On her quick detour to the office, the new stack of bills in the mail Tess had left on the desk distracted her.

  But now, nothing could distract her from her new worries.

  When she had arrived home from work yesterday, Anne never mentioned a word about Ben. Finally, she’d broken down and asked. Anne said he hadn’t come by the house at all.

  Frowning, she pushed the stack of papers away from her.

  She ought to be grateful that he’d paid attention, for once, and had stayed away. Landlord or not, he wouldn’t show up on the doorstep as often anymore. Not after Monday night. She and the kids would do better not having him around.

  The sound of a tap on the office door startled her. She looked up.

  Despite everything she had just told herself, when she saw who stood outside, she couldn’t stop her immediate rush of pleasure. But, instantly, another instinctive response took its place.

  Self-preservation.

  Oh, please, not now.

  Her thought didn’t make Ben leave. And she couldn’t make him leave, since he’d pulled his own key out of his pocket and unlocked the door.

  As if he planned to stay a while, he took a seat next to her desk.

  “Don’t get comfortable on my account,” she warned. “I’m about ready to pack it in.”

  “Yeah, I can understand that, after another late night with your client.”

  She opened her mouth to answer, then abruptly changed what she’d planned to say. “What makes you think I was with Jared?”

  “Anne said—”

  “You asked Anne?”

  “Well...” He shrugged. “Yeah.”

  “Ben Sawyer, I thought we had this settled. You don’t need to check up on me. I’m fine. The van is fine.
Ron said it was only a loose connection.”

  His eyes widened, as if in surprise. “Is that what you think I’m here for tonight? To check up? Nope. That’s got nothing to do with why I’m sitting in this chair.”

  “Then what is it? What are you doing here?”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  She sighed. “Probably not, but I’m asking.”

  “Jealous,” he said flatly.

  “What?”

  “That’s what I’m doing here.” He slapped his palm on the desktop. “You were out and it was late and I was driven here by worry mixed with plain, damn jealousy.”

  She shook her head in the hope of making sense of his words. That didn’t work. “Jealous of what?”

  “Not what. Who. That rodeo cowboy. Now that we’ve got that settled,” he emphasized, throwing her own word back at her, “need any help with that?” He gestured toward her paperwork.

  This wasn’t the Ben she knew. He was different tonight. But she wasn’t. From now on, she couldn’t allow herself to be anything but a woman protecting her secrets. Taking a deep breath, she folded her hands on the desk in front of her. “Ben.”

  He sat back in the chair, stretched his legs full-length and crossed them at the ankles. Staring down at his boots, he said, “You remember kindergarten?”

  She blinked. He definitely was not himself, and he was mixing her up. But she wouldn’t let him see that. “Yes.”

  “You remember how, when the timer rang, that meant we had to clean up the classroom?”

  “Yes.” If this was a game of Twenty Questions, she didn’t plan to lose.

  “Who always goofed around and made everybody laugh, but never picked up anything?”

  “Paul.”

  “And who carried those little plastic bins around while you put the scissors and the glue sticks and the crayons into them?”

  “You.”

  “Well, there you go.” He kept his gaze focused on his boots. His dark lashes hid his eyes.

  Just as well he wasn’t watching her, because her eyes had begun to water. She did remember those days. And so many that came after them. Swallowing hard, she clamped her hands together.

  “Telling me not to help you,” he said, “is like telling Firebrand not to run. Or Becky’s pup, Pirate, not to bark. Or Sidewinder Creek not to flow. Nature has to take its course. And so do I.”

  “Ben!” He made her crazy. But she couldn’t hold back a laugh.

  He grinned, still looking at his boots. “Well, it’s true.”

  “Okay, I give in. And I’ll admit it. You did help me. You helped everyone.”

  “That’s true, too.” At last, he raised his eyes to look at her, and she felt no desire to laugh. “Folks help other folks they care about, Dana.” He leaned forward. “And remember, I always helped you the most.” Lightly, he drew his finger across the back of her wrist.

  She caught her breath, recalling the night they’d stood in her utility room and he’d held her wrist in his fingers. The night they’d kissed on the couch and he’d held her in his arms.

  He stroked her hand, his finger tingling her sensitized skin. She had to fight not to lean toward him.

  Just as she lost the struggle and moved forward, he sat back in his chair.

  She took a deep, shaky breath, needing desperately to clear her mind. It didn’t work. She had to get away from him. If he wouldn’t leave, she would. Hands trembling, she shuffled her paperwork together and stowed it in her desk drawer. “Time to call it a night.”

  “I’ll trail you home.”

  She looked at him.

  “I’m leaving town, and it’s on my way.”

  She hesitated, then nodded.

  He followed her the few blocks to the house, where she parked the van. With the engine still running, she clung to the key ring in the ignition. He’d want to come inside with her. And she knew what he’d want next. The way he’d touched her just minutes ago told her that. Heaven help her, she wanted it, too.

  Would she be able to resist?

  When she walked across the yard, he stayed in his truck at the curb. Still expecting him to join her, she opened the front door. He flashed his lights and waved in farewell. Her heart gave a funny little flip, whether out of disappointment or relief, she didn’t know.

  She waved back, feeling cool and collected on the outside, hot and needy on the inside, and all mixed up whichever way she examined herself.

  For a long time, she stood watching him drive away.

  Then she closed the door and turned around and discovered Anne standing in the living room with her arms crossed.

  “Where have you been all this time, young lady?” the teen asked, attempting to frown. “And who was that young man who just drove you home?”

  Dana forced a laugh. “We had separate vehicles.”

  “A likely story.” Anne’s wide grin put dimples in both her cheeks. “He tracked you down, huh? I knew he would.”

  “He just happened to drive past the office while I was still there.”

  “Like I just happened to need something from Harley’s every day Billy had to work?”

  “No, this is different. Ben and I are just friends.”

  “Yeah.” Anne nodded. “That’s what Billy thought about us.”

  Dana smiled. But after Anne had gone home with her father and Dana made her way upstairs, the sitter’s words came back to her, and she shook her head. Unlike Anne and Billy, she and Ben were just friends.

  She frowned. He hadn’t acted like himself at all. But no matter what crazy notion he’d gotten into his head tonight, he’d soon regret the idea.

  Yet another reason for her to feel guilty for the mixed signals she kept sending.

  After she’d gotten ready for bed, she made one last trip to the kids’ rooms. As she tucked the dinosaur quilt around P.J., he stirred and opened his eyes.

  “Mama,” he whispered. “Hey, Mama...Ben didn’t come for two whole days. You think he’s coming tomorrow?”

  She clutched the edge of the quilt. “I don’t know,” she said honestly.

  “Maybe he will. I like Ben, Mama. I want a daddy like Ben.”

  He closed his eyes again and rolled over while she stood there frozen, trying to figure out what she could have said that wouldn’t have broken his heart.

  Or hers.

  * * *

  THE NEXT EVENING, with the dishwasher running and the counters cleaned, Dana felt at loose ends. Lissa sat at the kitchen table doing her homework, and P.J. had gone upstairs with his dinosaurs.

  Neither of them had talked much at supper.

  No one had said a word about Ben.

  After helping Lissa with a couple of her English sentences, she went out to straighten the living room. A few minutes later, the doorbell rang. She stilled with her hands on the afghan she’d been folding.

  Somehow, she knew she would find Ben on the doorstep.

  Crossing from the living room to the entryway, she managed to take one normal breath. When she opened the door and saw what he held cradled in his arms, the small, polite smile she’d forced onto her lips slid away. “What is that?”

  “A present.”

  She could hear P.J. running down the hallway upstairs. He’d be disappointed to find she’d beaten him to the door. Especially when he saw Ben there. And when he saw what Ben stood holding.

  “Go away,” she said through gritted teeth. “You can’t bring that in here.”

  P.J.’s sneakers hit the stairs. “Who’s there, Mama?”

  “Come on, Dana, it’s for the kids.”

  She shook her head and closed her eyes. Maybe she could make everything go away.

  “Hey.”

  She jumped, and her eyes flew
open. Ben had whispered the word against her ear. From inches away, she met his gaze. The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. “It’ll be okay. I promise.”

  No, it wouldn’t. It was just another promise she couldn’t let him keep.

  P.J. ran up behind her. “A puppy!” he shrieked.

  Ben slipped past her into the house. She closed the door and rested her head against it. Behind her, the babble rose. The high-pitched yap of the dog. Excited questions from P.J. Squawks of astonishment from Lissa, who had come running in from the kitchen.

  And above it all, a deep laugh of happiness mixed with satisfaction. Ben’s.

  Ben couldn’t have come up with a more devious plan than trying to get to her by getting himself in good with her kids. Somehow, she would have to harden her heart against his scheme. And pray she’d have more success with that than she’d had in trying not to obsess over him.

  She turned.

  Lissa and P.J. sat on the edge of the couch. Ben knelt beside the coffee table with the whimpering dog in his hands.

  “It’s like Christmas.” Lissa sounded entranced.

  Ben handed the dog to P.J., who held the wriggling bundle carefully in both arms.

  Lissa leaned over to pet one of the dog’s floppy ears. Big, sad brown eyes stared up at her. “What is he?” she asked.

  “It’s a she,” Ben said. “She’s just a plain old hound dog.”

  “We have to name her.”

  “Duke.” P.J.’s tone said he would accept no argument.

  “You can’t give a girl a boy’s name,” Lissa argued.

  “Why not? Nate’s a girl, isn’t she? She’s got a boy’s name. I like Duke.” The dog looked at him and yipped again. P.J. nodded emphatically. “See, she likes it, too. It’s a good dog’s name. Duke.”

  “No—”

  “How about Duchess?” Ben asked quickly.

  P.J. frowned. “What’s that?”

  “It’s a girl duke.” He turned to Lissa. “You know, like prince and princess. Duke and duchess.”

  “Oh-h-h. Yeah. I like that. Okay, P.J.?”

  “Okay.” He grinned. “Thanks, Ben. Thanks a lot! I always wanted a puppy.” His eyes shone.