Cowboy Heaven (21 page)

The song ended and I turned off the radio, not wanting to hear anything else that might break the spell. The last time I'd driven down this road with a man was the day I'd picked up Troy. What a day that had been! He'd done so much for me, brightening my life and giving me back my soul. I owed him so much for that.

So very, very much…

I'd have never known what a great guy Joe was if not for Troy. He would've gone right on staring at the ground whenever I was near, rarely speaking and certainly not pleading with me for hugs and kisses. Dusty might never have declared himself if he hadn't found me in the bunkhouse inhaling Troy's scent. What if he'd seen me just a few seconds later, never realizing what I'd been doing? Would he have ever said a word to me? Would he be safer now because of it or would he be in even greater peril? I'd lost one man before—surely I couldn't lose another, could I? Would God really do that to me, or was it my own fault? Was I some kind of bad luck charm, causing accidents to happen to the men I loved the most?

If so, then all three of them—Troy, Dusty, and Joe—were in danger, because I loved them all. Each in a different way, perhaps, but I would be devastated should anything bad happen to any of them. I would see it as my fault and never be able to give my heart to anyone again, knowing they might be at risk because of me. It made me want to take them back to my house so I could keep them out of harm's way—away from rattlesnakes and wild horses and any other threat to their safety. No doubt they would laugh and accuse me of being silly and paranoid.

Except Joe. He'd been the one to see the pattern and bring it to my attention—even before the rattlesnake incident. Knowing there might be a problem hadn't helped prevent that occurrence. Perhaps I was to blame for not risking a confrontation with Bull and Rufus. I could discount my father and Calvin. Dad didn't have the physical capability to wrestle with a snake, and Calvin was deathly afraid of them.

Perhaps if I were to let my suspicions be known, the accidents might cease. Suspicion was much less dangerous than outright accusation, but the trick would be to do it without making a bad situation worse.

The solution to that dilemma kept my mind occupied for the remainder of the drive. However, despite my best efforts, I was no closer to an answer.

I made no pretense of dropping Dusty off at the bunkhouse. I parked my truck in the garage and woke him up. If we ran into my father on the way to my room, so much the better. I was getting tired of all the clandestine bullshit. I loved Dusty, and I saw no reason to hide that love anymore—at least, not from my father. Rufus might notice Dusty's absence, but he wouldn't necessarily know where to look for him—although he might have been able to make a pretty good guess. With Bull off somewhere with his expensive pussy, Rufus was the only one I needed to be concerned about. The way I saw it, regardless of who might be responsible for the accidents, Dusty was safer with me than alone in the bunkhouse. And he would've been alone because Rufus and Calvin slept on the other side of the mess hall—Rufus in the foreman's private room and Calvin in the cook's quarters, away from the other men.

If Dusty was surprised I'd brought him up to the main house, he kept quiet about it, busying himself instead with the task of getting out of the truck without breaking another leg. I flipped on the kitchen light and held the door open for him while he negotiated the two steps up from the garage.

Despite Troy's insistence that it wasn't all that late, it was nearly one thirty. Dad had apparently gone to bed. Even if we'd elected to go to the bunkhouse, we probably wouldn't have been disturbed for at least two hours, perhaps even more if the guys didn't come straight home after Cactus Bill's closed.

But I wanted more than a few hours. I wanted all night and into the next morning with Dusty—and the next thirty or forty years after that. I might even get it, seeing as how he'd asked me to marry him. I hadn't given him an answer yet, but when I did, it would be a resounding
yes
. That is, if he remembered asking me. I would have to check on that to be sure.

As he paused in the doorway, it occurred to me that Dusty had never even been in the kitchen before. He'd only been in the office, which was off to the right of the front hallway. Since the back door was inside the garage and not visible from the bunkhouse, Troy had always come in that way whenever he'd visited me. Dusty never had, which made this moment seem almost as significant as if he were carrying me across the threshold on our wedding day.

The kitchen was the heart of any house, and family members entered through that door. Thankfully, Dusty seemed no more out of place there than Dad, Cody, or the boys would have been. He already belonged. For him to head straight to the refrigerator for a snack would have been perfectly natural.

And that's exactly what he did.

“Sorry, Angel,” he said. “But I'm starving. I don't suppose you have any more of that chili, do you?”

Here was my lover, the man I'd been dying to get my hands on all evening, asking to be fed before I ripped his jeans off and had my wicked way with him. It might have been perfectly natural, not to mention endearing, but it was funny as all get-out at the time.

“Sure do,” I replied with a giggle. “Dad doesn't know how to make a small batch. There's always enough for an army—although it never seemed like too much once Cody and the boys got into it. It's there in that big green bowl.”

I realized then just how little I knew about Dusty's likes and dislikes. Sure, he liked chili—I'd never known anyone to turn their nose up at my father's version—but would he eat it cold or would he warm it up? Would he drink beer with it, or would he want water or even milk? I had no idea what to expect. I hadn't lived with anyone completely new since the birth of my second child, and while figuring out what a new baby will eat is always a learning experience, milk and cereal are generally a good place to start. I didn't have a clue what Dusty liked. Granted, I was the one who brought home the groceries and occasionally helped Calvin with the cooking, but his specific preferences were a mystery.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.

Obviously, I'd been staring. I shook my head in an effort to reset my brain and clear my thoughts. “No reason. Just wondering how you want it.”

“In a bowl, hot, with grated cheese on top, and a glass of milk.” His tone and expression implied that as far as he was concerned there was no other way. He might as well have added the “Well,
duh
.”

“Sorry.” I flapped a hand. “Just a question. You'll have to fill me in on the stuff you like.”

“I'm not hard to please. I mean, if it was a bowl of chili in
my
refrigerator, I'd probably stick a spoon in it and eat it cold.” He grinned. “Seems a bit presumptuous at the moment, though.”

“I see your point.” I took the bowl from him and set it on the counter. “Have a seat and I'll fix it for you.”

Turning a chair sideways, he sat down, stretching his legs out in the middle of the floor. I wondered if this was another quirk of his until I realized it was simply a matter of maneuverability. With his leg in a cast, he would have a hard time getting up if he tucked his legs under the table.

My hands were shaking as I put some chili in a bowl and stuck it in the microwave, and even more so when I poured a glass of milk. Granted, bringing a new man into my home was worth a few butterflies, and the prospect of making love with him might've had something to do with it, but I shouldn't have been so nervous. After all, Troy had visited me several times, and I hadn't been anywhere near this rattled. I was doing my best to seem nonchalant, but my awkward movements must have given me away.

“Angel,” Dusty said. “Are you having second thoughts about all this?”

So he'd noticed.
Imagine
that
. “What do you mean?” I was stalling, of course. I knew precisely what he meant. I wasn't fooling anyone, not even myself.

I set the glass of milk on the table beside him. “I don't know… It seems strange having you here.”

“You aren't gonna give me that you're-just-a-hired-hand-and-I'm-the-rancher's-daughter spiel, are you?” His tone made it clear just how disappointed he would've been with me if that were the case—although no more disappointed than I would've been with myself.

“That isn't it at all,” I replied. “But there's something unsettling about all this. I feel like I'm”—I broke off as it dawned on me what the problem was—“replacing Cody.”

Without any warning, exhaustion suddenly overcame me, and I leaned back against the counter staring dumbly at him, completely ignoring the microwave when it dinged. Troy was different—he'd been a fling, a temporary affair that was bound to end sooner or later. But I intended to marry Dusty—to share my life and the running of the ranch with him. Future decisions would be made based on how well we could discuss important matters—rationally, with clear heads and open minds.

I'd grown into the idea with Cody, but this was different. Dusty was an adult, not some kid right out of high school whom Dad had taken under his wing to educate him on how things were done on the Circle Bar K. I had no idea what his own thoughts were on the subject. My love for him was reason enough to bring him into my house, but once we were married, this would be his house, his ranch, his life, just as much as it was mine. No, the problem wasn't the hired hand versus the rancher's daughter thing. My concerns would have applied to anyone I married.

I was beginning to understand why Dad thought Rufus, with all of his knowledge and experience as foreman, would be such a good choice. Dusty had worked for us for several years, but I had no idea what his opinions were. Would he leave the running of the ranch to me, or would he take a more active role? Would he defer to me in most matters, or would he attempt to usurp my position, relegating me to the role of a mere housewife—which was something I'd never truly been, not even when Cody was alive. I did my housewifely chores, of course, but Cody had always understood that while he would share ownership with me eventually, the ranch belonged first and foremost to my father and subsequently to
my
side of the family. I hadn't had the opportunity or the inclination to discuss this with Dusty as yet. It hadn't seemed important until he sat there in my kitchen, waiting for me to make one of the more important decisions of my life.

Replacing
Cody.
This was different from starting out in life as a young couple, learning as you go along. This was more like a big company suddenly losing its CEO and having to choose a new one—one that the board of directors hoped wouldn't run the company into the ground, or embezzle from the pension plan, or fire all the workers and hire his own relatives. I sincerely doubted that Dusty would do any of those things, but while he might be a fabulous partner for me, was he the best choice for the ranch?

I refrained from saying anything further for fear of offending him. Instead, I took the chili from the microwave and fixed it the way he'd asked me to.

I could almost feel his speculative gaze on me. Had I already offended him? He didn't appear to be angry—puzzled perhaps, but not angry. He couldn't possibly have read all the thoughts racing through my head, couldn't have known even half of what I was thinking, but he somehow managed, quite perceptively, to key on the most important issue.

“You're thinking the replacement won't measure up to the original. Have I got that right?”

I summoned up a smile. “In some ways, you surpass him entirely. But in other ways… I simply don't know.”

“I'll do my best, Angel,” he said gently. “And I'll love you. I can't promise you any more than that. I'm not perfect and I'm sure Cody wasn't either, although you may think that now. When he was alive, you would've been more likely to admit to his faults, just like anyone else, but now…well, he's gone and…” He finished his sentence with a shrug.

I knew exactly what he meant. I'd probably romanticized my marriage a great deal in the years since Cody's death. Perhaps I remembered things differently, but given the circumstances, that was understandable. I'd loved Cody, and he'd been taken from me without warning, just when our children were nearly grown and our future together seemed bright. The ranch was a thriving concern, Dad had been in better health, and aside from the day-to-day details, there had been no worries. Not like there were now.

“I'm dreaming about the good old days?” I suggested, arching a brow. “Is that it?”

“Something like that,” he replied. “But don't underestimate the future, Angel. It might even be better.”

“You're right.” I was so tired, the stuffing seemed to drain out of me as I took a seat at the table. “What about you? Are
you
having second thoughts?”

“I'd be lying if I said I didn't,” he replied. “No one can ever be completely certain about anything. One day you're riding high and the next you're flat on your face with a mouthful of dirt. But right now, with the way I feel about you, I believe it's worth the risk. My heart's been broken before, and I've been kinda shy about giving it to someone again.

“Maybe that's why I fell in love with you. You were married and unavailable. I could love you as much as I wanted and never get hurt. But it
did
hurt. When you'd smile at me I'd feel better for a while, but then I'd be miserable because I knew a smile was all I'd ever get from you. And now, well…now I can have it all. It might be kinda scary, but I'm willing to take the risk because you're worth it—worth risking my heart and soul for. I love you so much I can hardly stand it.”

“I love you too.” I smiled, glancing down at his bowl. “So why don't you, um, hurry up and eat that so we can go to bed?”

He made a face but dug his spoon into the bowl anyway. “I know what it is,” he said with a sage nod. “You only love me for my body. Right?”

“You betcha—although there are plenty of other things I love about you.”

“Such as?”

I didn't have to think very long before making my reply. “The way you make me laugh is one, along with that impish expression when you're teasing the hell out of Bull. The way you don't panic in the face of disaster. You can be stuck in a truck with a rattlesnake under your foot and you still don't lose your sense of humor. The way you allow yourself to be vulnerable—letting your heart go, even though it might cost you dearly. Finally admitting how you felt about me, even knowing it might not be worth the risk. I like that. The courage it took for you to say something at last was remarkable, and it made what you feel for me seem that much stronger.”

I reached across the table and gave his hand a squeeze.

“I love the way you make me feel when I touch you, the way you're not afraid to let me look at you, the freedom you give me to say whatever I wish. The way you don't fuss at me for giggling all the time like some men might. The way your body responds to me. I like knowing I can reach for you anytime and you're already anticipating it, already craving it. I like the way you want me the way I am—not younger, prettier, or thinner. You told me I was beautiful. You make me feel that way, and you make me feel loved.” I smiled at him again. “Is that enough, or should I keep going?”

I'd already stopped him in mid-bite a couple of times. At that rate, he was never going to finish that chili.

“Keep going,” he replied. “I'm not done eating yet.”

I laughed. “Dusty, if I keep going, I'll have to resort to describing the various parts of you and why I like them. You wanted to know other things, didn't you?”

“Yeah. Keep going.” He took another bite.

“Okay. You're honest, hardworking, trustworthy, and loyal. You have the cutest smile I've ever seen. I love your curly hair, the curve of your shoulder, the line of your hip in a pair of jeans—and out of them. I love the way you wanted me to smell you. Did you know I've been sniffing at you for years? I could never understand why you wore cologne. It seemed unnecessary, but I liked it. I used to walk behind you just so I could catch a whiff.”