by Linda Bleser
Max tipped his head and gave her that slow smile again. “You’ve got two weeks to decide, darlin’. My offer stands.”
“I don’t need two weeks. I’m not going and that’s final.”
“Suit yourself,” he said. “But at least you won’t have to spend the next two weeks fighting off Deputy Ed.”
She knew what he was implying. All she’d accomplished in the past ten years didn’t matter. Nothing had changed here. It was still a small town filled with small-minded gossip. As long as she was back in town, she’d have to fight off men who still thought of her as an easy target. She wondered if Ed Tate was only the first of many who’d try to score with the town tramp.
It didn’t matter that none of the gossip was true. She couldn’t escape her reputation that easily. And standing in front of her—pretending to be her guardian angel—was the person she held responsible for starting the unfounded rumors in the first place.
“Thanks, but no thanks,” she said, turning away from Max and all the bitter memories he brought back to the surface. She wanted to run, leave all this behind her. If she hadn’t promised her brother to watch over things until he returned, she’d take the first flight back to New York and never look back again.
Her hip bumped the edge of the table as she stood, setting her mother’s teacup wobbling again. Both Kate and Max reached to steady it at the same time and their fingers brushed. His hand—strong, hard and calloused in all the right places—closed around hers. Again she felt that low hum, as if the delicate china was vibrating to a tone beyond the range of human ears.
“Do you feel that?” Kate asked.
“Feel what?” His gaze locked on hers.
How could she have forgotten those eyes? They were as blue and wide as the Arizona sky. The intensity of his gaze held her and seemed to plumb the very depths of her soul. His hand relaxed, allowing her to pull free. But the vibration continued, seeming to shiver through her whole body. Only now it seemed to come from some place deep inside.
“Nothing,” she said, pulling her gaze from his. “I um…” She tried to focus on anything other than the riotous emotions swirling through her body. “I think there might be an electrical short somewhere. I felt a vibration or something before. Could you check around and see if there’s a loose wire?”
He tipped his head, an amused smile on his face. “Don’t you think you should call an electrical contractor for that?”
“Aren’t you the handyman?”
His laughter was a deep, rumbling vibrato. “No, not quite,” he told her. “I said I was doing a job for your mother. It was more like a favor…when I’m not too busy out at the ranch.”
Kate was more confused than ever. “You built these cupboards, right?”
He nodded. “I do a little carpentry on the side. I’m good with my hands.” His slow smile gave more meaning to the words than Kate wanted to admit. “But it’s more of a hobby than anything else. When your mother couldn’t find anyone locally who could handle the job, she came to me. I had some spare time and couldn’t resist the challenge, so I offered to help her out.”
“For a price, right?”
“Of course.” He tipped his head, still smiling. “But not much more than the cost of the materials. I told you I liked her ideas, as well as the challenge of fitting together what she wanted in the space we had to work with. Check the books if you don’t believe me.”
“I’ll do that.” But she didn’t need to. Max Connors might be a heartbreaker, but he wasn’t a swindler. “One other thing,” she said before he could leave. “Just when did you and my mother get so chummy?”
“A long time ago,” he said, leaning closer until his breath was a warm whisper against her cheek. “You see, we had something in common.”
“What’s that?” she asked, feeling a slow trembling centered deep in her chest.
He held her gaze, his voice a slow, husky drawl. “We both missed you.”
Her heart seemed to flip and tumble clear down to her toes. Before she could find the presence of mind to form a snappy reply, he turned and strode out the back door, letting it slam shut behind him.
Kate brushed the back of her hand across her flaming cheek. It was going to be a long, long two weeks.
*
Max concentrated on his work, trying to push thoughts of Kate out of his mind. He recognized the look on her face when he’d pushed her. She’d been skittish as a colt, ready to bolt if he said the wrong thing. Wouldn’t be the first time, would it? She’d bolted before and she’d do it again. It would be plain stupid for him to think otherwise. So why was he even getting involved?
Good question. The last thing he needed was some city girl making him feel awkward and adolescent and not near good enough for her. Well, the hell with that! Little Miss Kitty, or Kate, or whatever the heck she called herself these days, could just head on back to New York City for all he cared. But not until she answered one question—what had he done that was so bad she had to travel eighty gazillion miles to get away from him?
The next swing of the hammer clipped the edge of his thumb and a string of curse words burst from his mouth.
A soft giggle followed his outburst. Clutching his throbbing thumb, Max turned to see Chrissy Roberts, one of the part-time waitresses, standing just outside the doorway.
“Ain’t you supposed to be working?” he asked.
“I’m on a break.” She sauntered over and sat on the picnic table. “I thought I’d come outside and have a smoke.”
“You’re too young to smoke.”
“Am not,” she argued, lighting up a cigarette and taking a deep drag to prove her point. “I’m eighteen now. Graduated last month.” She leaned back, her ponytail swinging, and stretched out long, tanned legs.
Max turned back to his work but Chrissy was intent on capturing his attention again.
“So, what was all that commotion with Deputy Ed inside?” she asked.
“No big deal. He was just testing the waters, that’s all.” Just the mention of Ed Tate’s name had him gritting his teeth. Uniform or no uniform, he had a score to settle with Tate, and it was long overdue.
“Well,” Chrissy continued, “if Miss Lillian knew there’d been a Tate in her shop, she’d have blown a gasket.”
“Yeah, and if Miss Lillian saw you sucking on that cigarette she’d have tanned your hide.”
Chrissy scowled and blew out a stream of smoke. “Sheesh, you sound like my father.”
“If I was your father, you’d be eating that cigarette instead of smoking it, young lady.”
Chrissy pouted then stood and dropped her cigarette to the dirt, grinding it out with the toe of her tennis shoe. “There, happy now?” She stepped closer, tipping her head and giving him a flirtatious smile.
Max took a step back just as Nellie called from the doorway, “Chrissy! Break’s over and we’ve got customers lined up.”
Chrissy sighed and called over her shoulder, “Coming Aunt Nellie.” She rolled her eyes at Max then turned and headed back, wiggling her hips all the way.
Max shook his head. Nellie had her hands full with that little filly. She was a wild one, all right.
Speaking of fillies, it was time to head home and feed the critters. He put his tools away, locking them in the metal toolbox strapped to the pick-up bed, his mind on the Arabian mare they’d rescued just last month from a slaughter auction. Barely six hundred pounds when he got her, Venus was nothing more than skin and bones, with ribs protruding like umbrella spokes from her once-lustrous chestnut coat. Although the mare was malnourished and infested with parasites, Max knew the animal’s physical condition was the least of his worries.
He climbed behind the wheel and slammed the door, his mouth pulled into a thin, hard line as he thought about the horse. Lash marks on her flank were the most obvious signs of physical abuse, but it was the terror in her eyes that clawed at his heart. Abuse had left her fearful and head shy, but Max saw a spark smoldering there. She hadn’t given
up yet, and with enough love and patience she just might get some of that sassiness back he saw lurking beneath the fear in those big brown eyes.
Thinking of the Arabian mare brought his mind back to Ed Tate. Tate hadn’t been any help when Max had tried to find the previous owners of the abused horse. They’d stood toe to toe in the dirt arguing over animal abuse.
“I’ve got more important things to deal with in this town than chasing down an honest rancher trying to earn a living,” Tate had growled.
That had made Max see red. “There’s nothing honest about abusing an animal to the brink of death. Look at her!”
But Tate hadn’t bothered to investigate. “Damn bleeding hearts,” he’d muttered under his breath. “Care more about animals than a man’s God-given right to support his family.”
Oh, Max knew all about supporting a family and trying to scrape together a living off the ranch. But that was no excuse to mistreat a horse. His latest skirmish with Tate wasn’t the first time they’d nearly come to blows. Max knew it wouldn’t be the last either.
Anger had him driving carelessly, tires skidding over rutted dirt roads, leaving rooster tails of desert dust in his wake. Long-fingered shadows from saguaro cacti seemed to caution him, but he drove on, unmindful of their silent warning. His thoughts were as swift and fleeting as the whiptail lizards that prowled the desert landscape.
Frustration churned inside him. He knew that for every horse he saved, a dozen more died in miserable squalor, starving and filthy, their bodies battered and their spirits broken. He couldn’t save them all. Even doing extra jobs on the side like this, there was barely enough money to cover medicine, feed and veterinary bills for the few he was able to rescue.
The anger was familiar. He felt it every time he saw an animal hurt or abused. But there was more to his broiling emotions than just anger over the horse. Seeing Kate again after all these years had opened up a wound that had never fully healed. He thought he’d gotten over her, but one look into those snapping green eyes told him how wrong he was. His heart had taken a plunge at his first sight of Kate—her soft, silky hair begging to be stroked, full lips ripe for nibbling. Even in anger, her voice had tugged at his heart, pulling a smile from long-unused muscles.
She was back and as intoxicating as ever. But he’d be a fool to fall under her spell again. She’d leave, just like she had all those years ago, and he wasn’t sure his heart could stand being left behind a second time.
Taking a deep breath, Max let up on the gas. Driving recklessly wasn’t the answer. It wouldn’t do anyone any good for him to kill himself. When he reached the ranch, his fingers were stiff from gripping the wheel, and his clenched jaw throbbed. He pulled the truck onto the dirt lane leading to the TripleR, parked alongside the main house and jumped out of the pick-up, taking the porch steps in three quick hops. Stopping only long enough to grab a couple apples off the kitchen counter, he headed back out to the stables.
Max stood for a moment admiring his surroundings. This was the only world he knew—sweeping views of dry desert dotted with sagebrush and the distinctive silhouette of saguaro cacti, wide-open spaces flanked by the toothy Superstition Mountains in the distance, and sunsets that could break your heart. Why would anyone want to live anywhere else? He knew these were dangerous thoughts that brought him full circle to Kate. How could she leave this? How could she leave him? Max kicked at the dust, pushing thoughts of Kate out of his mind, and headed for the stable.
His father stepped out of the stalls to meet him. “Thought I heard your truck,” he drawled. “Either that or one of them fighter jets was making a landing in our front yard.”
Max shot his father a grin. Otis Connors was a true American cowboy, skin leathered by the Arizona sun, eyes crinkled with starburst creases from years of squinting into its harsh glare. He represented a hundred years of Arizona cattlemen and western tradition—time-honored values such as honesty, hard work and lending a helping hand to your neighbor.
“How’s our girl doing?” Max gestured toward Venus’ stall.
Otis leaned the muck shovel against the side of the barn. He pulled a red bandanna from his back pocket, thumbed the brim of his Stetson back and ran the bandanna across his forehead before answering. “Had her teeth floated today. She’s eating better already.” He tucked the bandanna back in his pocket and gave his son a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “We’ll have her filled out in no time.”
Max nodded. Time and treatment would mend the horse’s body, but would they be able to heal her spirit? “I’d like to get my hands on the scum-sucking lowlife who did this to her,” he growled.
Otis eyed the apples in Max’s hand. “One of those better be for Outlaw. I think he’s jealous of the time you’re spending with the new horse.”
“So I noticed,” Max said, heading into the barn. He felt at home with the familiar smells of horse, leather and fresh hay.
Otis picked up the muck shovel and followed. “I’d better finish up here so we can get Venus inside.”
Max strolled over to Outlaw’s stall. The horse pretended indifference, but his head hung over the stall, ears pricked forward. Max leaned against the gate, playing along. He had a special bond with Outlaw, the first horse he’d rescued and trained.
Max pulled his pocketknife from his Levi’s and sliced a wedge from the apple. “Mmmm…sure looks good.” He brought the slice to his mouth, smacking his lips.
Just as his teeth sank into the chunk, Outlaw gave a demanding snort and butted his muzzle against Max’s shoulder. Max had braced himself, prepared for the gentle assault. Outlaw was a big baby who liked to think he was the one in charge.
“What?” Max feigned surprise. “You want some of this?”
The horse nickered and nudged his shoulder again, harder this time.
Max smiled and cut another slice, holding it out in the flat of his palm. The horse lowered his head, feeling around for the treat with his lips. Only then, happy that he’d gotten his way, would Outlaw allow himself to be nuzzled and stroked.
“You’re a big tough guy, huh?” Max said, scratching behind the horse’s ear. While Outlaw munched on his treat, he allowed Max to stroke him between the eyes and along his broad neck. Outlaw could put on a good show, but he was gentle and patient with the kids who came to the ranch. Arabians were curious and friendly and had a natural aptitude for nurturing children—qualities that made them perfect for use in animal-assisted therapy. That made it even harder for Max to understand how anyone could abuse such a gentle animal.
Outlaw hadn’t been as badly abused as the Arabian out in the field right now. Venus might never learn to trust humans again. He fed Outlaw the last of the apple then ran his hand once more down the horse’s muzzle, stroking the coarse expanse between his eyes and nose.
Otis ambled up beside them. “I hear young Kitty Feathers is back in town.”
Max grunted. “She wants to be called ‘Kate’ these days.”
“That so?”
“Yep. Guess she’s too good for the likes of us now. Big-shot city girl.”
“Ain’t nothing wrong with that,” Otis said. “Your momma was a city girl.”
Max had to smile. It was hard to imagine his mother being anything but a rancher’s wife. Anne Connors had gotten dirty with the men, pitching in where she could, even helping to birth calves. The TripleR ranch couldn’t have run as efficiently as it had without her at the helm. She’d even been responsible for giving the ranch its name.
The way Max had heard it, a young, love-struck Otis Connors had allowed his new bride to name the ranch where they’d spend the rest of their lives raising children and cattle alike. Eyes sparkling, Anne had clapped her hands together and christened it the Rock Rose Ranch, after her favorite cactus blossom. The fact that the name remained was a testament to how much Otis adored his wife, although for as long as Max could remember, they’d simply called it the TripleR.
“The difference is,” Max grunted, “Kate chose to be a city g
irl.” With that, he headed out of the stalls to see if he could coax Venus with the other apple.
He took his time approaching the wary animal, avoiding eye contact. Venus jerked her head aside and stepped back, shying away from him. She moved as far away from the gate as possible, until she couldn’t retreat any farther then stood perfectly still, barely breathing as she watched Max approach. Her entire body shuddered to escape. Dark, liquid eyes pleaded with him not to come too close, not to hurt her.
“It’s okay, girl,” he soothed in soft, slow tones that seemed to calm her somewhat. He stopped a foot away, not wanting her to feel trapped, then began slicing the apple, hoping she’d come to him. She watched him, but her curiosity wasn’t enough to overcome her fear. He took a bite then held out the wedge, only to have her look away.
“That’s okay,” he assured her. “We’ve got plenty of time. After awhile you’ll see you’re safe here. No one’s ever gonna hurt you again.”
He left the apple on the fence rail, turned his back and walked away. Only when he was halfway across the yard did she move forward with a cautious, lumbering grace. He sneaked a peek over his shoulder and saw her hesitate then begin nibbling at the remaining apple he’d left behind.
Chapter Four
After the hustle and bustle of her day at the Tea and Crumpet Shop, the house felt too quiet. Kate had been looking forward to the time alone but instead found herself feeling smothered under the weight of memories. Everywhere she looked were reminders of her past. And nowhere was the past more evident than in Kate’s old bedroom, which hadn’t changed since the day she left. Her high-school yearbook lay open on the scarred oak desk, which had seen years of homework assignments, scribbled girlfriend notes and dreamy diary entries.
As always, the open bedroom window tempted her to escape. How many afternoons had she sat here yearning to be outside running free? For most of her life this small room had felt like a prison. She’d wanted to explore the world on the other side of that window, wanted to run farther than the eye could see. And she had. She’d crossed the Arizona borders, following the rising sun to a city where horses and pick-up trucks weren’t the primary means of transportation. But she’d never really escaped. She’d simply carried her prison walls with her.