“Mom?” The small voice from the other side of the screen door was Josh’s. “Are you over here visiting Dusty? Who belongs to that strange car?”
“C’mon in,” Dusty called before his mother could make free with his living space again.
Josh entered and his mother went into raptures. “Who is this?”
“My son, Josh,” Max said and damned if she didn’t look both shy and pleased, proud as punch to be able to share the mothering experience with his mother.
“Have you had your lunch?” Charlie asked Josh, because above all things she liked to feed little boys.
“Marvin gave me macaroni.”
“Marvin?” Charlie asked.
Mom knew Marvin darned well, but put on a good show to hide Dusty’s secret.
“He’s my grandpa,” Josh said.
“Would you like to try some minestrone soup?” Charlie jumped up to get him a bowl, but Max stopped her.
“Let him try mine first.” Max drew him near. “It’s good. Try macaroni cooked like this.”
Josh ate a piece of elbow pasta. “I like it.” He sounded excited. “Are those beans?” He sounded skeptical.
He tried one and wrinkled his nose.
“Oh, come on,” Max said. “You like toast and beans. A bean is a bean is a bean.”
“Have a bowl of soup,” Charlie said. “And what about your grandfather? Would he like some?”
Max whipped out her phone and called for Marvin to come over.
A second later, he knocked on the door. Minutes later, he came under Charlie’s spell along with Max and Josh.
Oh, Mom. I do love you.
* * *
At one o’clock, Max and Marvin left to do chores, taking Josh with them.
He asked to stay, but Max told him Dusty had to rest. “Either that, or make phone calls.”
“Yes, boss.”
Minutes later, a knock on the door accompanied giggles.
Charlie opened the door and led a bevy of beauties into the living room. Dusty recognized the two young twentysomethings he’d met in the diner on his first day in Rodeo.
It seemed they’d brought friends with them to visit.
“We heard you got hurt,” one of them said.
No dust gathered on Rodeo’s grapevine. These young women must have set in motion whirlwinds getting dressed up and putting on heavy makeup, showing up here tottering on high heels like they headed out to a club for the night.
They were all beautiful in their individual ways, but every one of them had overdressed for an afternoon visit to a ranch.
Not in the mood for flirtation when he’d come to town to work, with time limited and his brain fogged with pain, Dusty wondered how to get rid of them.
Charlie opened her mouth to offer hospitality, but Dusty stopped her with a shallow shake of his head.
He didn’t want them staying long.
She left the room. He heard her in the kitchen cleaning the lunch dishes.
The women took seats around the room without being asked.
One of the bolder of them actually sat on the end of the sofa. When it dipped, and his leg followed suit, he hissed.
“Oh, you’re in pain!”
“We should do something.”
“What do you need?”
Once upon a time Dusty would have reveled in the attention, but at the moment it left him cold. His age catching up to him, maybe.
Or maybe he liked more interesting conversation.
Or maybe he wanted to get back on his phone and persuade more rodeo riders to come here and play polo.
He missed something one of the women said.
“Pardon?”
“I asked if you want to come out to Honey’s Place on Friday night. There’s always a great band on the weekend.”
The local watering hole, he assumed.
“I won’t be able to dance,” he said.
“Won’t your leg be better by then?”
“I’ll be lucky to be walking by this time next week, let alone dancing this Friday night.”
He recognized the look in her eyes, interest in him that bordered on avidity.
The girls conversed among themselves while Dusty got more and more tired. He studied the women and listened to them talk and understood exactly what they saw in him.
A way out of small-town Montana.
Each and every one of them viewed him as their ticket out of Rodeo. Each thought the particular highway they needed to ride out on looked like him, that if they hooked up with him he would show them the world.
He raged against that mind-set.
For an easygoing guy, he had a strong urge to scold them, to advise them to find out who they were in their cores, to decide what they wanted in life and go after it. He thought one or two of them would understand. The others just wanted an easy way out. Maybe he should give these women more credit, but experience had taught him this. Achievement tasted sweeter when attained on one’s own merits rather than hanging on to someone else’s coattails.
He glanced out the window.
Max rode into the yard on one of her horses and dismounted in front of the stable. Now, there was a woman who worked hard for everything she had.
Dusty might not like her, but he respected how well she dealt with her responsibilities. She might worry, but she didn’t complain. She put her head down and got the work done.
Despite this morning’s setback—he grimaced thinking about it—she’d worked on the ranch all morning and again right after lunch. He wondered if her head pounded from when they’d collided earlier.
The way she’d felt under him... Even riddled with pain, he remembered how it felt to sink into her for support, as if his body knew how right it felt, even if his head didn’t want to.
Slow down, Dusty. What does that mean?
But something puzzled him...something that felt off. Now that his thoughts had a chance to wander, he realized his mind had registered more about her than he had thought at the time.
As much as she tried to hide herself behind loose shirts and baggy jeans, a man’s touch told him a lot.
His chest had felt those unnaturally flat, hard breasts and a corner of his mind had stored that detail away for future thought.
He shook his head. How could he have sensed something wrong about the way they felt?
Well, duh. He’d been with enough women to know how a woman’s different parts should feel. His eyes swept the room as the women continued to chat. Case in point—he’d never had trouble finding female company.
What did Max hide?
Or was she hiding anything?
He glanced back out the window to find her staring at the two cars the women had arrived in, parked in front of Marvin’s house.
Dusty could practically see the wheels spinning in her brain, no doubt blaming him for not getting his work done.
Unless he missed his guess, he’d be hearing about her displeasure at some point.
He leaned back against the cushion and crossed his hands behind his head, gearing up for battle.
Bring it on.
It struck him that a part of him liked seeing her all fired up with passion in her eyes. He grinned.
Unfortunately, he happened to be facing the woman almost sitting on his leg. She mistook his inner musings for attraction.
Damn.
He schooled his expression to neutrality.
Over the years he’d monitored his reactions so he attracted only the girls he wanted and didn’t hurt others.
He sounded full of himself.
Sometimes he wanted to shout, “I’m nothing special. I’m just an ordinary guy.”
He loved female attention, but right now, with his leg pounding a percussive tune and his temples threatening to join the band, he
wanted rest.
Mom peeked her head around the door from the hallway, raising her eyebrows.
Dusty scrubbed his hand through his hair. She nodded. They’d set up that signal years ago. Dusty hadn’t used it in a long time—not since his teen years, when girls used to visit the ranch and hang around, and all Dusty wanted was to ride or practice roping.
Tired, and needing to return to important rodeo matters, having his mom around to run interference, even at thirty-one, worked.
She entered the room and said briskly, “It’s time to leave, ladies. Dusty needs to ice his leg and I need to change his bandages.”
Change bandages? What bandages? Not one of the women had asked him about his injuries. They would have no idea his mother lied.
They scooted out, but not before making sure to give him all kinds of invitations to come visit them.
* * *
Max timed them.
Despite all of the work waiting for her, she’d wasted a bunch of time watching Marvin’s house to gauge how long the women stayed.
As her employee, Dusty should be working.
Because of his leg, she’d decided he could nap if he had to. Instead, the man sat inside entertaining half a dozen young women.
When the two cars drove off, she stomped across the yard, onto Marvin’s porch and into the house.
“I told you to either work or nap.” She sailed into the living room with both barrels blasting.
“For the love of God,” Dusty snapped. “They came here without an invitation. What was I supposed to do? Kick them out? Refuse to see them? I’m not rude like some people I could mention.”
Max didn’t understand the gleam in Dusty’s eyes. Did he...did he enjoy fighting with her?
Charlie appeared beside her, wrapped an arm around Max’s waist and steered her out of the house, ever the protective mother hen.
Max wanted a mother hen of her own.
Charlie tossed over her shoulder, “Rest, Dusty.”
She maneuvered Max toward the stable. “Show me your horses.”
“Okay,” Max said meekly; an older woman touching her in a motherly way felt heavenly. In fact, it felt so good it made Max weak and a little weepy.
“Dusty’s always been a charmer where the ladies are concerned, but he has a kind heart,” Charlie said. “I watched for a while with those girls who were visiting, and then I rescued him. He can’t stand to hurt women’s feelings.”
Max snorted. “He never worries about hurting my feelings.”
“Yes.” Charlie sounded thoughtful. “I noticed that.”
Charlie admired every horse Max owned. She also admired Josh’s pony when he joined them.
She asked intelligent questions about the ranch.
Max hadn’t talked to a woman about ranching in so long that she reveled in it.
Only later did she realize how Charlie had mollified her about the young women visiting Dusty...and somehow she didn’t mind being manipulated by the woman.
Chapter 7
Dusty awoke to the scent of bacon frying in a skillet and the sound of his mother singing in the kitchen.
An answering female voice disturbed him. Haunting, like from a dream. Husky hints of vanilla tickled his nerves.
Hints of vanilla? Tickled his nerves?
He must have hit his head harder yesterday than he’d first thought. Something had cracked.
Or maybe he just needed breakfast.
Leaning against the coffee table, a pair of crutches awaited his use.
Max, or maybe Marvin, must have left them here. Good. He needed them. He couldn’t lie around all day. It went against his nature to be idle.
Gingerly, he sat up and grasped the crutches. He hauled himself to his feet and hobbled without grace to the kitchen.
Two women, one young and one older, sang in perfect harmony to “Single Ladies.”
Dear Lord, he’d landed in hell. No to rings. No to commitment.
A lot of carefree years awaited his future.
He stood in the kitchen doorway.
His elderly mother’s jeans fit her better than the baggy ones hanging from Max’s butt. He’d tossed and turned last night with the pain from his injuries, and had finally fallen asleep thinking about yesterday’s revelations about her. What was Max hiding? And why?
The women he knew had no trouble wearing clothes that fit. He’d known plenty who flaunted their bodies with tight clothes and low necklines. He just liked a woman to dress to suit who she was or wanted to be.
A small voice of reason argued, Maybe Max is dressing to suit who she wants to be.
Yeah. Could be. But why did she want to be shapeless?
“Did you bring these?” he asked, his voice morning rough and starved for coffee. He held up one crutch.
Max spun around. The smile she shared with his mother disappeared...and his gaze dropped to her chest.
She cleared her throat.
He brought his eyes up to her face. Cripes, Dustin. Get a grip.
He loved women, but he didn’t walk around staring at their breasts.
He gestured with a crutch. “Were these your doing?”
She nodded. “Marvin sprained his ankle last year.”
“Thanks.” Of his mom he asked, “What’s for breakfast?”
“Good morning to you, too, sweetie.” She approached, kissed his cheek and patted his shoulder. “Love you.”
He grinned. “Sorry. I’m surly this morning. Love you, too.”
Max’s eyebrows shot up. Why?
A small voice piped up. “You said ‘love you.’ Boys don’t say yucky stuff like that.”
Josh sat at the table finishing up a plate of pancakes.
“Boys say ‘love you’ to their mothers all the time anytime,” Dustin said. “They like it a lot when you do that. That’s a good lesson to learn, kid.”
“Right answer, Dusty.” His mother handed him a coffee and bestowed on him her proud-of-you smile.
Warmed through, he sipped the coffee, set it on the table and headed to the washroom, awkward on the crutches.
Back in the kitchen, he sat down to pancakes and sausages.
“Josh, are you over here?” Marvin’s voice rang through the front screen door.
“C’mon in,” Dusty called. “Might as well. Everyone else is here.”
Once Marvin entered, the small kitchen felt crowded. Strangely, Dusty didn’t mind. Often in his parents’ kitchen, relatives packed in at any time of day or night.
He’d come to resent the lack of privacy.
Now that he lived on his own, moving from place to place, weekend after weekend, today’s camaraderie warmed his cozy kitchen.
Marvin declined a coffee. “Thanks, but there’s work to be done.”
The older man took Josh away for a ride to check on cattle and then there were three.
Dusty’s happiness turned to discomfort, with all of his self-discipline strained by training his eyes on Max’s face instead of her bust. Her chest area shouldn’t matter to him.
As though she sensed his tension, Max’s shoulders squared.
The two of them tended to circle each other like a pair of wary tomcats. This lack of skill in dealing with a woman upset him.
Max nibbled on a nail. “Will you be able to work?”
He stiffened. “I can still handle a phone, just like I did yesterday.”
“But there’s legwork involved in putting a rodeo together. Literally.”
Dusty shot her a look. “Don’t blame me for this injury. You’re welcome for catching your cat, by the way.” His mother stared at Dusty’s uncharacteristic sarcasm.
Max cocked an eyebrow. “Well, don’t blame me, either.”
“I’m not!”
“Don’t yell at me.”
&nbs
p; “I don’t yell!” he yelled. “Ever.”
Max pursed her lips, and for the second time he noticed how full they were. The woman ruffled him so much—he had the sudden urge to lean over and kiss that sour look off her face.
What the hell?
“Cut it out,” Dusty’s mother chimed in, sounding good-natured but firm. And not a moment too soon—what was with him today? “I’m certain the two of you, being adults and not children, can work this out. This injury is merely a wrinkle. It isn’t the end of the world.”
“You’re right. We’ll get through this.” Dusty’s taut shoulders eased. Max’s didn’t.
“Thank you for breakfast, Charlie.” She left the room without saying goodbye to Dusty.
“Well,” Mom said. “Well, well.”
“Never you mind with your wells.” Dusty sounded ungracious and he didn’t care. He didn’t like not understanding a woman and especially not understanding his reaction to one. “You got any of that lemon meringue pie left? It’s good with coffee.”
* * *
Max shouldn’t be hurt. She wasn’t. She sure as hell was not.
Even so, why could the guy be nice to everyone else but not to her?
Marvin and Josh led their horses out of the stable, Josh’s pony almost too small for him. One day soon she was going to have to buy him a horse. But the money...
Marvin approached. “Why do you look angry? What bee crawled up your butt this morning?”
“I need to buy Josh a real horse.”
“He’s good for a while yet.” He helped Josh to mount and her son trotted out of the yard.
After making certain Josh passed hearing range, Marvin asked, “What’s really bothering you?”
Marvin had become a dear friend over the years.
What would she have done without him taking her in all those years ago, when she was terrified and alone? She’d worked hard for him, even while pregnant, until she’d bought the ranch from him, and had become the owner and he the employee.
The women of the rodeo and fair revival committee might be her confidantes, but Marvin had been here on the ranch with her day in and day out through thick and thin. He was the closest thing she had to a father, after losing hers as a child.
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