Cinderella and the Playboy / The Texan's Happily-Ever-After (23 page)

“No.”

Shep didn't ask why, and his look told her he wouldn't pry if she didn't want him to. So, instead of keeping her childhood hidden, as she usually did, she brought it out to examine once again. “My father was Cheyenne, and proud of it. He told me and my brother about the old ways of living, of thinking, of believing. My mother didn't like that. She wanted us to fit in. Sometimes being proud of our heritage didn't help us fit in. Ryder and I were often made fun of, but we had each other and I didn't tell her about it. That sort of set the standard for our relationship. I tried to be what she wanted me to be—the perfect daughter. Daddy and I could always talk, but my mom and I couldn't. He died when I was ten, and nothing was ever the same after that.”

Shep nodded as if he knew all too well exactly what she meant. “Did your mother work before your dad died?”

“At the library. But afterward, that wasn't nearly enough, so she started driving a school bus, too.”

“Gutsy lady.”

“I think in her heart she always wanted to be a teacher, but never had the money to go to college. She practically runs the library now. She gave up bus driving a few years ago to take the head position.”

“She sounds as interesting as you are.”

Raina wasn't sure what to say to that, so she fell back on what had affected her life most deeply. “My mom never got over losing my dad. It was like that part of her, the romantic side of her, just stopped existing.”

“Has that happened to you?”

Raina really had not seen the connection before, and
now she did. “I think that's happened to me because of the way Clark died.”

“I suppose that's so. Your husband was a hero. His memory is bigger than life, so there's no room to have a romantic dream again.”

“How do you understand that so well?”

“I've been around.”

Sometimes Shep's attitude was too enigmatic, and she found herself wanting to dig down to deeper levels. So she asked a question that had been niggling at her for a long while. “If you wanted a family so badly, why didn't you get married?”

“Because having a family didn't depend on me marrying.”

“That's not an answer,” she protested softly, wanting to step closer to him, and yet afraid of feelings that were starting to tickle her heart. So afraid, she wanted to run.

He seemed to have an inside battle with himself, then finally said, “I don't trust women easily. I have good reasons to believe they leave when the going gets tough. Or they stay for the wrong reasons.”

“The wrong reasons?”

“Yeah. Things like money. Fancy cars. A house in the best neighborhood in town.”

So he'd gotten burned by a woman who had wanted what he could provide for her? Or had the trust issues started much earlier than that?

“Everyone's got baggage, Shep. It's what we do with it that matters.”

When he angled toward her, she wasn't sure what was going to happen next. She was a bit surprised when he took hold of a lock of her hair and let it flutter through
his fingers. “You're a captivating woman, Raina. Do you know that?”

“No,” she said seriously. “Each day that passes I figure out more about myself.”

“What did you figure out today?” He let his hand drop and she was sorry when he did.

“I figured out that mucking out a stall is as good an exercise as I can get in a gym. And that little boys always have a next question, even when you think you've answered them all.”

He chuckled. “Isn't that the truth?”

He looked as if he wanted to kiss her. To her amazement, she wanted him to do it. But why—so she could feel like a desirable woman once more? So she could really start living again? So she could wipe out some terrible memories and replace them with sparkling new ones?

Whatever the reason, it didn't matter, because Shep took a step back. “We'd better get up to lunch before there isn't any. Those boys have big appetites after doing chores.”

Shep had let her down easy. They'd gone back to friendly. His trust issues and her past could be hurdles that might prevent even a meaningful friendship from beginning.

What
had gotten into him?

Shep gave his horse a nudge up a small hill, watching his sons in front of him as they did the same. Raina rode between Joey and Roy, talking to them as they bounced along.

Shep rarely discussed his background or his breakup with Belinda. Only with Cruz now and then. Granted,
he hadn't given Raina much, but he'd said more than enough. He wanted to forget Belinda's gold-digging motivation for getting engaged to him. the indifference to children she'd kept well-hidden. He needed to forget that kid who'd gone through life without an adult to really care about him. He longed to forget landing in jail at the age of fourteen. He'd never tell Raina Greystone Gibson
that
story.

He'd been so rebellious back then. He'd hated his foster parents and their neglect. Not only of him, but of Cruz, too. Cruz had been younger, more vulnerable, not as experienced as Shep about the ins and outs of the system. Shep had felt he had to look out for him. But in protecting Cruz, he'd broken the law.

No matter their foster parents had left them alone for the weekend. No matter Cruz had taken ill and had a raging fever. No matter Shep hadn't known what to do except hotwire that old truck and take Cruz to the closest E.R.

The chief of police had thrown him into that dirty jail cell and not cared a whit. If it hadn't been for Matt Forester rescuing them, Shep wasn't sure where he or Cruz would be today. Maybe in prison. Maybe on the streets.

Nope. He'd never tell Raina about that chunk of his life. She'd never understand the desperation that had driven him to rebel against authority figures for his sake as well as Cruz's.

He'd sensed that same defiant spirit in Joey and suspected it had developed while he was in foster care.

The brothers had had loving, caring parents until they'd been killed. With no relatives to take care of them, they'd been thrust into the system. Then five,
Joey had acted out, and his aggressive behavior had made placement even harder. They'd been through two foster couples before Shep had decided to take them.

He believed there were three secrets to turning kids around. Matt Forester had taught them to Shep and Cruz. You gave children safety. You gave them love. And you gave them a reason to trust you. If Shep could accomplish that, Joey, Roy and Manuel would be on their way to being confident and finding a future that fit them.

Breaking Shep's consideration of his past and present, Joey turned around and called, “Can we show Dr. Gibson Red Creek?”

“Do you remember how to get there?”

“Yep. We go right at the bottom of this hill.”

“Lead the way.”

Joey grinned and pushed his fist up into the air, as if he'd just been given a gift. The gift of confidence, Shep hoped, as he urged his horse to catch up to Raina's.

“They're good riders for their age,” she remarked as the two boys trotted ahead.

“You're pretty good yourself.”

“I must have inherited good riding genes from my ancestors who roamed the plains.”

He couldn't tell if she was being serious or tongue-in-cheek. “You said your heritage meant a lot to your dad. Did it mean a lot to you?”

“That's not an easy question.”

“Tell me,” he said, surprising himself. Usually when conversations with women got into sticky waters, he swam in the opposite direction. But he wanted to know more about Raina, wanted to uncover everything she kept hidden deep in her soul.

“Is it a long way to the creek?” she asked with a wry smile.

“Long enough that if you haven't ridden for a while you're going to be sore tomorrow.”

“I guess I'd better soak in a hot tub tonight.”

“It wouldn't hurt.” He suddenly had visions of her sinking into a tub full of bubbles. But before she slid into those bubbles—

He had to quit imagining her in something less than a blouse and jeans.

When she canvassed his face, he wondered what she saw. He could hide quite a bit with his Stetson. Every cowboy knew how. But they were riding in the sun, and the shadows from his brim didn't hide everything. Could she see his interest in her was physically motivated? Since Belinda's rejection of a future he held dear, all he'd looked for from a woman was physical satisfaction.

He and Raina were so blasted different. The ways were too numerous to count. So why was he here? And why was
she
here?

Curiosity, pure and simple.

She was still studying him when he said, “You changed the subject.”

“You helped it along.”

“I did. And if you really don't want to talk about it, that's okay.”

She was silent as they rode through pockets of wild sage, scrub brush and tall grass. As her horse rocked her, she turned the kerchief around her neck, the frayed edges brushing her skin. “This was my dad's. He wore it whenever he went riding. He liked to tease that it would come in handy if a dust storm came up. His
stories about his father serving in World War II, as well as his own experiences in Vietnam, were written down in a diary he kept. My mother gave it to me on my twelfth birthday.”

“Why your twelfth?”

“I was having trouble fitting in at school. I didn't know how to handle being Cheyenne, and at times growing up, it made me feel like an outsider. Ryder faced the same problem, but a guy can be a loner and that can be attractive by itself. He knew who he was when he hit his teens. He also knew he wanted to be a cop. I just felt…different from everyone else.”

“When did you stop feeling different?”

“I never did. But I learned to
like
being different. Remembering the myths and fables my father told me helped me see how life fit together, how the past becomes the present, how being Cheyenne is something to be proud of. But it wasn't always so, and I feel guilty about that.”

“You were a kid.”

“Yeah. A kid who should have listened more. Who should have known better. If I had listened to the stories my father told, instead of trying to deny my heritage, my life might have made sense sooner.”

“I think you've done one heck of a job with your life.”

Raina shook her hand. “Shep, you don't know me.”

He reached over, clasped her arm and they both stopped their horses. “Med school isn't a walk in the park. I know you're a fine doctor who cares about her patients. I can see you love kids and should have a bunch of your own.”

“Oh, Shep.”

He wasn't sure, but he thought her eyes were a little shiny. His hand slid from her arm down to her hand. “What's wrong?”

Then he swore. “That was really a stupid thing to say. And a stupid thing to ask. You're wishing you did have a bunch of kids with your husband. You want the life back that was so brutally taken away from you.”

She took a deep breath. “It's been nine years. The first five, that was probably true. The next couple, I tried not to keep looking back, because that only brought anger and sadness and regret. Returning to Sagebrush made a difference for me, and I probably should have done it sooner.”

“Getting away from New York?”

“Yes. Stepping away from the memories and starting over.”

Shep watched Raina's dark hair blowing in the wind, saw the determination in her eyes to forge a new future. But determination wasn't always enough to push regrets aside.

After a long look at each other, they headed toward the sound of the boys' laughter.

Fifteen minutes later, at the bank of the creek, Shep dismounted and so did Raina, without any help from him. She was definitely an independent woman, one who charted her own course.

He went to help Roy dismount and saw Raina go to Joey. She hadn't asked if she should help. She just saw the need and handled it. But he noticed she waited to see what Joey could do for himself, obviously not wanting to step on the little boy's pride.

She'd make a wonderful mother.

Now, where in the heck had that thought come from?

He and his little band were just fine on their own, although he had to admit, their caseworker seemed to doubt his ability to handle a toddler. But he'd shown her so far that he could, and he had Eva to help with practical matters. He didn't need anyone else.

But as he moved to stand beside Raina, watched the boys walk a little farther down to listen to the bubbling creek, he had to admit he was damn attracted to her. A night in his bed—

He cut off the thought. She wasn't that kind of woman. After the obviously loving marriage she'd had, she'd only look for another committed relationship. If she looked at all.

And to be honest, he couldn't commit to a woman because he didn't trust them.

Cruz had tried to analyze him. More than once his friend had suggested that his trust issues stemmed from his mother abandoning him at a mall when he was six…from his foster mothers not really caring…from Belinda wanting what Shep could give her materially rather than emotionally. Shep didn't know about all that. He just knew it was hard for him to open up to anyone—to trust anyone.

Yet, standing beside Raina, inhaling the lemony fragrance of her that carried to him on the breeze, appreciating the lines of her profile and the soft fullness of her lips, his groin tightened and all he thought about was kissing her.

Her gaze met his and he knew she'd caught him. She didn't play coy games, but said simply, “You were staring. Do I have hay in my hair? A smudge of dirt on
my nose?” Her question was light, but he sensed the underlying tension.

“You look like you belong out here, with the horses and the wind, breaking trails and maybe riding shotgun.”

She laughed. And he smiled. And then they were leaning a little closer to each other.