Backlash

by Lisa Jackson

  The clicking of the shutter sounded right. The view through the lens looked right, and yet, something was missing—something vital—that surge of adrenaline he’d experienced so often when he’d stared through the eye of the camera.

  “Hell with it,” he muttered, savagely twisting on the lens cap and shoving the camera into its case. Without considering the consequences of what he was doing, he shouted to Curtis that he’d be gone for part of the evening, advising the older man to lock Black Magic in his stall. Then he strode angrily across the yard to his Jeep. He jammed his key into the ignition and growled an oath at himself. Tonight, come hell or high water, he was going to see Cassie again.

  * * *

  She saw him coming. Pale sunlight glinted against chrome and steel. Tearing down the narrow lane, the motorcyclist bore down on her. Yanking hard on the steering wheel, Cassie felt the old truck shimmy, its wheels bouncing on the uneven ground as she made room. The motorcycle sped past. The driver, dressed in black from helmet to boots and huddled over the handlebars, didn’t glance her way as he drove recklessly on the narrow lane leading from the Aldridge house.

  “Damned fool!” Cassie muttered, her heart pounding as she stared into the rearview mirror and watched as the motorcycle disappeared around the bend.

  She eased the truck back into the twin ruts of gravel that comprised the lane and drove the final quarter-mile to the house. Her heart was still thundering wildly when she parked her pickup near the garage. “Who was that?” she demanded, hopping out of the cab and spying her father in the door to the barn. Erasmus yelped at the sight of her and bounded over, whining and wiggling at her feet.

  “Ferguson,” Ivan replied.

  “Ryan Ferguson? What was he doing here?” Bending down, Cassie scratched the old dog behind his ears. “He drives like a maniac!”

  “He was looking for work.” Her father wiped his forehead with a handkerchief and stuffed it back into the pocket of his overalls. “I hired him.”

  “You did what?” she fumed, still shaking from the close call. “He nearly ran me off the road!”

  Ivan’s eyes filled with concern. “Did he?”

  “Didn’t you see it!”

  “I was in the barn.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  “No thanks to him!” she snapped angrily.

  “I’ll have a talk with him,” Ivan said, frowning and staring at the lane. “He starts work tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” she repeated, stunned. “Why?”

  “’Cause I need help, that’s why,” Ivan replied. “The mares will start foaling next week, and I’ll be planting grain soon, not to mention the regular chores.”

  “But why Ryan Ferguson? Denver McLean fired him because—”

  “I know why Denver claims he fired him, but Ryan swears he was innocent. No charges were ever filed, you know.”

  “Then why did Ryan leave town?”

  “He says he quit, that he just needed some time away. Can’t say as I blame him. Workin’ for the McLeans must be hell.”

  “Oh, Dad, that’s crazy. John McLean stood by Curtis Kramer when everyone else in town blamed him for the fire on the McLean Ranch. And some of those hands at the McLean place have been there for years. They love it.”

  Ivan clenched his teeth. “Don’t mention John McLean to me!” he ordered, starting for the back porch at a furious pace.

  “But he did.”

  “So now he’s a saint, right? And I give another wrongly accused man a job and I’m not right in the head,” he called over his shoulder.

  “I didn’t say—”

  Her father reached the porch and whirled, his eyes bright. “John McLean is the single reason Vanessa left me and you grew up without a mother!” he reminded her, his words slicing open an old, painful wound. The back of Ivan’s neck was flushed scarlet. “You know how I feel about the McLeans, so let’s drop it!”

  Cassie heard the rumble of an engine and glanced toward the drive. “I, uh, don’t think that’s possible.”

  “And just why the hell not?”

  Cassie’s heart felt like it had dropped to the ground. “Because it looks like Colton is on his way.”

  “What?” Ivan turned his gaze to the front drive. “Blast that man! What’s he doin’ here?”

  “I guess we’ll just have to wait and find out,” she said, but she wished Colton’s timing were better. Right now her father would like to tear anyone with the name of McLean limb from limb.

  “He’s not welcome here!” Ivan snapped.

  “He knows that. So why don’t you listen to what he has to say? It must be important,” she said, trying to calm him down before another confrontation between her father and Colton exploded.

  Ivan’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve heard enough McLean lies to last me a lifetime, and I would have thought the same goes for you!”

  “Colton never lied to me,” she said, her back stiffening.

  “No,” Ivan allowed, “but what he did was worse! He accused you of lying, using him, trying to trick him into a marriage he didn’t want.” The flush on his neck spread upward, and his eyes flared. “Don’t ever forget, Cassie, Colton McLean tried to destroy you!”

  “I can handle myself!”

  “Can you?” her father tossed back, the lines of strain near his eyes becoming less harsh. “I hope so.” With that, he stormed into the house, Erasmus on his heels.

  The screen door banged shut, and Cassie flinched. Her father was right, of course. Colton had wounded her so deeply, she thought she’d never be the same. And she wasn’t. Colton had single-handedly devastated the young naive girl she’d once been. It wouldn’t happen again. Now she was older and, she hoped, much wiser. That young girl could never be hurt again, and she would try her best to make sure the woman she’d become wouldn’t suffer at any man’s hands, including those of Colton McLean.

  Watching as Colton parked his Jeep near her truck, she waited by the steps. As he got out of the truck, his gaze met hers, and one side of his mouth lifted in that same irreverent smile she’d always found so fascinating.

  “I just couldn’t stay away,” he said, as if answering the questions in her eyes.

  “Seems you didn’t have much trouble for eight years,” she pointed out.

  “Ouch.” He shoved his hat back on his head and studied her thoughtfully. “Am I back on the bad list?”

  “You were never off,” she said, trying to remain firm, but she couldn’t keep the twinkle out of her eyes. “Face it, McLean, you’re bad news.”

  “You’ve been talking to your father again.”

  “Maybe he’s just been setting me straight.”

  Colton chuckled. “You know, Cass, you can be positively mean when you want to be.”

  “And you deserve it.”

  Without warning, he grabbed her arm and spun her around so quickly, she slammed into him.

  “Hey—”

  “Let’s start over,” he suggested, his gaze warm, the scent of him as fresh as a sun-drenched Montana morning. His breath touched her face in a gentle caress.

  “Too late,” she said, trying to keep her voice light, attempting not to notice that her breasts were crushed against his chest, her thighs pressed against the hard length of his, her body responding to the closeness of his.

  Strong arms held her prisoner. “I thought we’d gotten past all that.”

  “Past the fact that you accused my father of horse thievery? Or past the feud? Or past the night you accused me of lying to you before you walked out the door?” she asked, the words tumbling out in a rush.

  He tensed, every muscle suddenly rigid. “I think we’d better leave well enough alone.”

  “But nothing was ever ‘well enough,’ was it?”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “The chance to explain why I couldn’t tell you that I wasn’t pregnant eight years ago,” she shot back, her insides quaking. Standing so close to him stirred up all her old insecurities,
but this time she wasn’t going to back down.

  Something flashed in his eyes. Pain? Or pity? “Does it matter?”

  She gasped. Of course it mattered! More than anything had ever mattered. “Eight years ago it was all that mattered.”

  “Eight years is a long time,” he said, his eyes focused on her lips.

  “It seems like yesterday.”

  Colton just stared at her. “Clichés, Cass?” he drawled, suppressing a laugh, his mouth curving into an amused smile.

  Instantly infuriated, she sputtered, “You are, without question, the most insufferable, egotistical, bloody bastard that ever walked this earth!”

  Colton laughed, a deep rumbling sound that erupted into the evening air.

  “You think that’s funny?” she said, jerking away, her black hair flying in front of her eyes, her fingers curling into fists of frustration.

  “No, I think it’s probably the truth,” he admitted with an exasperating, devilish grin. Quick as a cat, he tugged on her arm, yanking her back against him. “What is it about you?” he wondered aloud. “One minute I think you’re the most intriguing woman I’ve ever met, the next I realize you’re a pain in the backside.”

  “Like you.”

  “Exactly,” he said, his eyes growing dark as they focused on her lips.

  Cassie’s throat closed.

  Slowly, with painstaking deliberation, he lowered his head and brushed his lips over hers.

  Cassie had to bite back a moan.

  His lips molded over hers, and her knees nearly buckled. Her conscience told her to stop this madness, and she tried. Though she attempted to push him away, he wouldn’t relent, holding on to her with a fierceness bordering on desperation.

  Her palms against a solid, denim-clad chest, she struggled a little as his tongue touched the inner recesses of her mouth.

  A seeping warmth flooded her limbs, and though she thought perversely that she should bite him, she didn’t. Instead, she closed her eyes and sighed. What was the point of fighting when she’d been waiting for eight years for him to take her into his arms?

  When he dragged his lips away, she whispered, “You’re positively annoying!”

  “And you love it.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself!”

  “Come on, Cass,” he whispered suggestively, “admit it. It keeps you interested.”

  She slid a glance at him from beneath the fringe of her dark lashes. “I’m not interested.”

  “Bull!” He touched his forehead to hers. “Let’s not argue.”

  “Seems inevitable.”

  “Nothing’s inevitable,” he whispered, and her heart turned over. “Now, tell me, is Ivan the Terrible around?”

  “Dad is in the house. And he’s not in a great mood. I wouldn’t be calling him any names.”

  “I won’t,” Colton said, releasing her and starting up the back steps. “As a matter of fact, I’m here to apologize.”

  Cassie’s brows lifted. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

  “It keeps you on your toes.”

  “Don’t bother.”

  He grinned despite her sarcasm. “I decided that the other night when I told you that I was wrong wasn’t enough; that I should tell Ivan he’s off the hook.”

  “I don’t think he really cared one way or the other,” Cassie said. She tried to sound calm, but her spirits were soaring. Colton was taking the first step; maybe Ivan could find it in his heart to forgive him. And perhaps she could forgive him as well.

  “At least I’ll have tried.”

  Cassie smothered a smile. “Enter, Daniel, into the lion’s den.”

  Colton laughed as Cassie opened the back door. Erasmus bolted through, nearly knocking her over as he ran, pell-mell, down the stairs and streaked across the backyard, startling a flock of blackbirds in the leafless apple tree. “You know, you’re not on his top-ten list of favorite people right now.”

  “I figured that.”

  Together they walked into the kitchen. Ivan was seated at the table, a mug of coffee in one hand. “McLean,” he said without preamble.

  Colton stopped just inside the door and swept his Stetson from his head. “Thought you’d want to know Black Magic’s been found.”

  “I heard.” Ivan’s gaze bored into the younger man’s eyes, but Colton didn’t flinch. “Rumor has it he just wandered off and decided to come back on his own.”

  Colton’s lips thinned. “I doubt it. But I’ve decided that I judged you too quickly.”

  “Probably just force of habit.”

  Colton’s jaw worked. “Look, I just stopped by to say I’m sorry I came down on you so hard.”

  Ivan shifted his gaze away. “A little late for apologies, isn’t it?”

  “It’s probably too late for a lot of things,” Colton admitted with a grim smile, flicking a glance at Cassie. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t bury the hatchet.”

  “Just like that?”

  Leaning a hip against the counter, Colton shook his head. “I suppose it’ll take a little effort.”

  “And a lot of forgetting.” Ivan scowled into his coffee cup, then took a long, last swallow. Dropping his feet onto the cracked linoleum, he shoved himself upright, straightening slowly. “There’s been too much bad blood between our families to pretend it didn’t exist,” he said deliberately, rubbing his stubbled jaw. “I don’t think we can even begin to bury it all.”

  “Dad . . .” Cassie protested.

  “Look, McLean, you’ve said your piece and I’ve listened. In all honesty, I’m glad the horse is back. As for the rest”—his brows drew together and he lifted one shoulder—“I see no reason to change things. As far as I’m concerned, you’re still not welcome here.”

  Cassie’s spirits crashed. “Please, Dad, think about this—”

  “Think about it?” Ivan retorted, his lips thinning. “I’ve thought too long about the McLeans. You might be falling for his line, but I’m not!” he growled.

  “I just think it’s time we settled some things.”

  “Tell that to your mother, why don’t you?” His old eyes gleaming, he stood. The cords in his neck had stretched taut as he warned, “Be careful, Cassie. You’re twenty-five now—old enough to make your own decisions—and I can’t tell you what to do. But just be damned careful.”

  “Dad, wait—I think we should talk about this. . . .” Cassie followed him out of the room, but Ivan shook his head sadly, ran a shaking hand over his forehead and climbed the stairs.

  “Get rid of him. Then we’ll talk.”

  Cassie felt pulled and pushed. On one hand she wanted to shove aside all the pain of the past, get on with her life. On the other, she knew her father was right. One apology didn’t erase years of agony and mistrust.

  Her stomach in knots, she walked back to the kitchen where Colton, twirling the brim of his hat in his fingers, stared out the window. “Charming fellow, your father,” he muttered.

  “He can be.”

  “You couldn’t prove it to me.”

  “That works two ways.”

  Colton frowned, his brows drawing together in a single, stubborn line. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “I just got home!”

  “I know, but I’d rather go someplace where I’m welcome. And I’d like you to come with me.”

  Cassie hesitated. Tempted not to ask any questions and just take off and follow him, she had to force herself to slow down. “Why?”

  “Because I want to spend some time with you,” he said simply, his expression still perturbed.

  Her pulse jumped. “Do you think that’s smart?”

  “I know it isn’t, but what could it hurt?” He flashed her an uncertain grin, and Cassie’s heart lurched. Seeing a vulnerable side to Colton, a part he tried so hard to keep hidden, touched her as nothing else could.

  “I’d hate to think—”

  “Then don’t think. Just come with me.”

  She attempted to swallow al
l her doubts. “Okay.” Wondering if she were making the second-worst mistake of her life, she breezed past him and walked outside. Afternoon shadows had lengthened, the sunlight was weak, the air cool. Shivering, she stuffed her hands into the pockets of her down jacket and crossed the yard.

  Colton opened the door of the Jeep and helped her inside.

  As he slid behind the steering wheel, Cassie glanced at the house. “I hope you know I feel like Benedict Arnold.”

  “Your father’ll get over it.”

  “I don’t know,” she thought aloud as the Jeep lurched backward and cut a wide circle near the barn.

  “You’re twenty-f ive—Ivan himself pointed out that fact.”

  “Oh, so now I’m old enough, is that it?” she said, a sad smile toying with her lips.

  “Old enough?”

  “Don’t you remember? That was your big argument against ‘us’ way back when. You thought I was just a kid.”

  “You were,” he said, grinding the Jeep’s gears and taking off down the twin ruts of the lane.

  At the highway he didn’t turn toward Three Falls, but guided the old rig in the opposite direction.

  “Where’re you taking me?” she asked.

  He cast a seductive glance in her direction. “If I told you, I’d spoil the surprise.”

  “What surprise?” she demanded, a ripple of delight darting up her spine. Unpredictable, mysterious and secretive, Colton was never dull. “You know, this is starting to look like a kidnapping.”

  “I thought we’d already established the fact that you’re not a kid anymore. Besides, you came willingly.”

  “I guess I can’t argue with that,” she thought aloud, her nerve endings tingling in anticipation as she leaned back in the seat and squinted through the windshield.

  They were headed west, and cathedral-spired mountains, their craggy slopes snow-laden and sheer, pierced the dusky sky.

  Cassie gnawed nervously on the inside of her lip. Where was Colton taking her? she wondered, and more important, why?