by Carol Grace
Chapter Five
He finally saw her coming down the street, walking briskly, her arms swinging at her sides. Was she in a hurry to see him? Hardly. But just for a split second he wished she was. He reminded himself that if she was in a hurry, it was to get rid of him. He stood at the window and watched her. He had no idea anyone could look that good in a post office uniform, but she did. It fit her like it was made for her. Her hair brushed the collar of her white blouse and the skirt hugged her hips. Absently he wondered how she’d look in something else. Something loose, something soft. Something silky like her skin.
He caught himself before his traitorous thoughts ran away with him. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. How could he let a woman get under his skin this way? Someone he hardly knew. Someone with such a different background from his. He walked out the front door to meet her on the sidewalk, hoping they’d jump in her truck and be on their way. And then he’d never waste another fruitless afternoon in town again once he got his car. And he’d never wonder about Laura or worry about her truck or her son again.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” she said breathlessly, her cheeks flushed. “Charlie Rogers dropped his bank book in the mailbox in front of the post office. I had to unlock the box and we had to go through all the mail to find it.”
He shook his head. “Service above and beyond the call of duty. Don’t give it a thought. Your aunt was good enough to give me a glass of sherry.” He was still holding his glass and couldn’t help noticing her eyes were the same amber color.
“She’s always the perfect hostess. I’ll just be a minute, then we can go. Dylan’s at a friend’s house, but I have to tell my aunt where I’m going, unless you did.”
“I didn’t have a chance,” he said and gritted his teeth. Another delay.
“She talks a lot,” she admitted. Laura was gone longer than a minute, and when she came back she’d changed into a denim skirt and a T-shirt. As if he’d read her thoughts. It was a buttery soft T-shirt that outlined her small, rounded breasts.
He jerked his gaze away and wondered why in the hell she had to change when she knew he was in a hurry. When she knew he’d just spent all afternoon cooling his heels wandering around town talking to strangers. And if she had to change, why couldn’t she have changed into a shapeless tent of a dress? Did she have to wear something so provocative? He clenched his hands into fists as his heart pounded. He had to get out of there.
“My aunt says you’re staying to dinner,” she said. Her forehead was creased. She didn’t look pleased.
“Oh, no. She invited me, but I can’t stay. Please tell her I couldn’t impose. And I’ve got to be getting back.”
“It’s too late. She’s already set the table. You’ll hurt her feelings if you don’t stay,” she said bluntly.
“Are you sure?” he asked. He had to get out of this. He couldn’t spend another minute in this sexy woman’s company. She didn’t even know she was sexy. That was the problem. One of the problems. His mind raced for possible solutions. Maybe he could even borrow Dylan’s bike and pedal back to the ranch. But she was right. It was too late. He exhaled loudly and gave in to the inevitable.
It wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. David was right. The dinner was excellent. The other guests who were staying the night in one of Emily’s guest rooms were a couple from Arizona who were under the mistaken impression that he and Laura were a couple, maybe because her aunt had seated them together. At least that way he didn’t have to look at her across the white linen tablecloth. To listen to her talk and watch her smile politely and force himself to look elsewhere than at her face under candlelight.
He did notice that Laura kept looking at her watch during dinner, and he didn’t blame her. She didn’t want him there any more than he wanted to be there. He was a constant reminder of what she’d lost. Just as she and her son were the same to him. Yes, she was just as anxious as he was for him to leave. Besides, he wasn’t very good company. That’s what his friends said as they urged him to lighten up, to move on with his life and find someone new. As if Jeanne could be replaced. As if another child could replace his son.
Tonight he made an effort. He answered questions and he even asked them. He found Laura’s aunt to be a fount of information on the history of the town and the part the McIntyres played in it. She gave a pitch for the historical society, telling Brandon he was entitled to join, now that he owned a historical piece of property.
“Many people made a quick fortune here in Silverado,” her aunt said. “And just as quickly lost it. The town needs new blood and so does our historical society.”
He couldn’t help notice how quiet Laura was and how she seemed to take those last remarks personally. She set her fork down and from then on she scarcely said a word. As soon as it was possible, she excused herself and him, saying she had to give him a ride home.
“So you live here, lucky girl,” said one of the guests to Laura.
“Temporarily,” she said.
“And you live on a ranch,” said the other to Brandon. “By yourself.”
“That’s right,” he said firmly, and thanked Laura’s aunt for the dinner before they went out to her truck.
“There’s just one thing,” Laura said as she backed her truck out of her aunt’s driveway. “You can’t say a word about this truck or I swear I’ll dump you out somewhere along the highway.”
“I won’t. Look, I’m sorry if I offended you. I was trying to be helpful, that’s all. But you’ve got the last laugh. You’re the one who’s rescued me. Tell me, does it every bother you that everyone in town knows everything about you?”
“Everything? I hope they don’t know everything.” But in her heart she knew they probably did know almost everything. “Yes, of course it bothers me. I hate it. I was going to warn you not to talk too much. Not to tell anyone anything you don’t want the whole town to know. But you’ve already figured that out.” Of course he had. He was smart enough to keep his private life private. Except for what he’d told Buzz. And that was before he’d moved here, before he’d realized what a small town was all about.
They drove in the dark to the ranch. It was a warm, moonless night. Cicadas buzzed in the fields along the road. Laura didn’t know what more to say so she didn’t say anything. Neither did he. She knew that it must have cost Brandon a lot of pride to ask her for a favor. When she pulled into the driveway at the ranch he got out and thanked her.
“Give me a call when they get your car fixed, and I’ll come and pick you up. Before or after work, that is,” she said.
“Thank you,” he said. “Oh, wait a minute. You left a picture on the mantel. I’ll get it for you.”
“That’s all right,” she said, but he was already in the house. She considered pulling away. She didn’t want the picture. She didn’t want to wait for him. She didn’t want to wait in her own driveway and realize it wasn’t hers anymore. The idea that she’d lost the house and the ranch because of her own stupidity, by making the wrong choice of a husband, caused a pain in her chest. The farther away from the ranch, the less it hurt. But she couldn’t just take off now. It would be rude. She got out of the truck to stretch her legs and to inhale the fragrance of the jasmine bushes that lined the driveway, the ones her grandmother had planted so many years ago.
“Here,” he said, appearing out of the dark and handing her the picture.
She knew just what picture it was. She didn’t want it. Maybe that’s why she “inadvertently” left it behind. It was a reminder of happier times and her biggest mistake. “You should have just thrown it away,” she said, placing it in the back of the truck. Her voice wavered despite her determination to be strong. To look ahead instead of back. “I meant to, but I didn’t.”
“Was it that bad?” he asked gravely, putting his hands on her shoulders.
“No, of course not,” she said, knowing instantly that he meant the marriage and not the picture. She felt the warmth of his hands and had the most overwh
elming desire to lean against him, to draw on his strength, to find comfort from a stranger. What was wrong with her? She who’d refused to rely on anyone after the divorce. She’d kept everything bottled up inside herself for years. It must be the warm summer night, the unexpected touch of a man’s hands. The unexpected sympathy in his voice. But she couldn’t let herself do that. She couldn’t depend on anyone ever again. She’d learned her lesson. At least she hoped she had.
She’d never admit to anyone how she’d suffered through the last few years, watching the ranch slide downhill, helpless to stop it. “There were good times,” she assured him. If only she could remember them. Focus on them. “What hurts is that it was all my fault.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I made a bad decision,” she said, as the words tumbled out. “To marry someone I didn’t really know. I could have married someone from here. Someone I’d known all my life. Someone from a ranching family, but no, that would have been too easy, too dull. I was looking for excitement. He came breezing into town and suddenly I was—” She broke off, embarrassed to be doing exactly what she’d told him not to. Confiding her troubles in a stranger. Telling tales she certainly wouldn’t want the whole town to know.
“Swept off your feet?” he suggested.
“Yes, exactly. I should have known. I should have listened to my parents. Somehow they knew it wouldn’t work out. That he’d run through my money, cause me to lose everything with one of his schemes, raising thoroughbreds or turning grain into ethanol or—” She broke off, unable to continue.
The enormity of what she’d done, ignoring her parents’ advice, losing the ranch they’d spent a lifetime building up welled up inside her and she couldn’t stop the tears. She hadn’t cried when Jason left, she hadn’t cried when she’d signed the deed to the ranch, but somehow, tonight in the company of the last man in the world who would understand her, who would care about her, she burst into helpless tears.
“Laura,” he said, alarmed. “Are you all right?” She looked up into his eyes, and the concern she saw there made her cry even harder. More than concern, it was understanding. She let go with great, gulping sobs. Why, when she didn’t know him and he didn’t know her would she let down barriers she’d kept in place for months? The tears streamed down her face. “I—I’m sorry, I can’t—”
“Go ahead,” he said, putting his arms around her and holding her tight. “Let go. Cry it out.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed her face against his chest and drenched his shirt with her tears.
“It’s okay,” he said roughly.
She knew it wasn’t okay. It wasn’t okay to fall apart like this. But she couldn’t stop crying. It felt so good to let go for a change. To stop acting brave and tough when she was dying inside. To have someone to lean on, someone to make soothing sounds in her ear, someone to hold her.
When her tears had been reduced to mere sniffles, he brushed a tear from her cheek with the back of his thumb. The unexpected gentleness of his touch made her knees weak. If he let go of her now she’d fall down in a heap in the driveway. But he didn’t. Instead, he kissed her.
The shock of his kiss hit her like a flash flood in the Nevada desert. Out of the blue and completely unexpected. But was it so unexpected? Or unwanted? Hadn’t she been thinking about this man since he first accosted her on this same driveway? If she were honest, wouldn’t she have to admit that he’d fascinated her, annoyed her and attracted her with his mysterious past, his granite jaw and his unfathomable dark eyes?
Whatever she’d thought, she was no longer thinking anymore. She was only feeling. At first it was only a brush of his lips across hers, tasting, testing, experimenting, trying…It wasn’t enough. Not for her. Not for him. He kissed her then with a pent-up passion she sensed he’d been holding back for a long time. A long time before she’d met him. She didn’t know. She didn’t care. All she cared about was him and her and now. She was no longer someone’s mother, someone’s ex-wife, someone’s daughter and someone else’s niece. She was just a woman. A woman who needed a man. This man. Now.
With his arms around her waist, he pulled her close, closer and deepened the kiss. His tongue slid between her lips and came deep and slow into her mouth. The heat that coiled in her body made her feel she might burst into flames. She’d never felt like this. Never. Not even with Jason. Not even when he’d swept her off her feet.
She clung to Brandon, returned his kisses, letting herself get swept along on a tide of passion she didn’t know existed. Until the phone in his back pocket rang. He reached for it. She pulled away. She stared, dazed while he answered the phone. His voice was hoarse and he was breathing hard. But not as hard as she was.
She didn’t know who it was. She didn’t know what he said. She only knew she’d gone a little crazy and lost her head. The ringing of the phone had restored her senses. And his. Thank heavens. Without hesitating she jumped in her truck and left the ranch in a cloud of dust. Not that he noticed or cared. He was on the phone. He’d let a phone call come between them. That was all it meant to him. If the phone hadn’t rung, where would they be? What would they be doing?
Her imagination went wild picturing various scenarios as she drove. The two of them in her house, on the floor or on the couch. Him carrying her up the stairs. Making love to her in her old bed, on her sheets. The summer breeze wafting in the window, cooling her feverish skin. Their passion going out of control. And all of the time a voice inside her head was saying she had to stop. It was wrong. None of these visions contributed to her driving safely. All of them made her hands shake on the steering wheel and her face flame.
Shame suffused her body. He must be wondering what kind of a wanton woman would let him kiss her like that? And what was worse, kissing him back? Hadn’t she learned her lesson nine years ago when another handsome stranger came to town? Was she so starved for affection she couldn’t keep her hands off the man? Affection? That wasn’t affection; that was passion. She knew the difference.
She found her son on the front porch with his friend Brian trading baseball cards. He was so engrossed he barely noticed her. Even if he had, he wouldn’t have noticed her hair was a mess and her cheeks were tearstained. He was an eight-year-old, after all. Her aunt was another matter. Laura stopped in the powder room, splashed water on her face and combed her hair. Then she went to the kitchen.
Her aunt turned from the sink where she was washing dishes, dried her hands on her apron and surveyed her niece. Laura blushed under her scrutiny, sure she could tell what had happened between Laura and Brandon.
“You’ve been holding out on me,” her aunt said, her mouth curved in a half smile.
“What do you mean?” Laura said. Could her aunt possibly know what she’d been doing?
“He’s a charming man.”
Charming? He was good-looking, he was stubborn, he was rich and he was smart. And, oh, yes, he was sexy. But charming?
“Yes,” her aunt continued. “Too charming to be buried by himself out there at the ranch. After what he’s been through.”
“I think he likes it out there,” Laura said mildly, ignoring the part about “what he’s been through.” If Brandon wanted her to know what he’d been through, he’d tell her. Right now, she didn’t want to know any more about him. She wanted to forget about him, forget what happened tonight. If she could. She’d made a fool of herself, crying and throwing herself at him.
“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t need some stimulating company from time to time.”
“You don’t mean me,” Laura protested.
“I certainly do.”
“You’re the one who’s stimulating,” Laura said. “That’s why you’re such a good hostess.”
“Why, thank you, Laura. I never did get a chance to tell you what I learned about Brandon Marsh, did I?”
“No, but…” What could she say? “It’s none of my business.” That would hurt her aunt’s feelings. She picked up a dish
towel and rubbed a wineglass dry until it sparkled. Waiting, half dreading what she was about to hear.
“Well, he’s a consultant,” her aunt said. “And very successful. He’s going to do all his work on the ranch. He doesn’t need to see his clients. He can do all his business by phone and computers. What do you think of that?” she asked.
Laura breathed a sigh of relief mixed with disappointment. Maybe she did want to know more about him after all. Maybe she wanted to know if he’d ever been married. If her aunt knew, she wasn’t saying.
“That’s all?” Laura asked.
“Yes. What did you expect?”
“Nothing,” she said.
Her aunt washed and she dried. They talked about everything but Brandon, then she went out to find Dylan and sent him to bed.
When the phone rang an hour later, she was lying in bed reading, or trying to read when her mind was anywhere but on the article about single parents raising successful children.
Laura sat up straight in bed and glanced at Dylan, who was tangled in his sheets, but sound asleep. Then she tiptoed to the door and heard her aunt say, “Just a moment. I’ll check.”
Standing there in her cotton nightshirt, Laura shivered. Somehow she knew the call was for her and she knew who it was. She could have slipped back into the room, buried herself under the covers and pretended to be asleep. That would have been the prudent thing to do, because she didn’t want to talk to whoever it was on the phone. Didn’t want to have to apologize for her behavior, didn’t want to even acknowledge it. It might have been the prudent thing to do, but it was also the cowardly thing to do. And she knew that sooner or later she’d have to face Brandon and put this unfortunate incident behind them.
She tiptoed down the stairs just as her aunt was coming to look for her.
“Oh, there you are. It’s for you. I thought you’d gone to bed,” she said in a half whisper. “Everyone else has.”
“Thanks.” Laura took the cordless phone and as her aunt went down the hall to her bedroom, she waved, a little smile playing on her lips before she closed her bedroom door behind her.