Ever After at Sweetheart Ranch (10 page)

The Halftime Sports Bar was different from Tony's—­it had obviously been a saloon in the nineteenth century. Beneath an embossed tin ceiling, there was a carved mahogany bar. All the paneling was in dark, expensive woods, making the sports memorabilia stand out. Denver athletes who'd passed through over the decades had signed the displayed jerseys.

As they were led to a table, she saw Sean with another guy at the bar. He raised a hand when he saw her—­and his expression openly fell when he glimpsed Will behind her. She waved and held back a wince. He was obviously a guy who wore his emotions openly. He seemed nice, but she'd never really been attracted to him. Yet she hated making someone feel bad.

She glanced over her shoulder at Will and said, “I really like this place, but I tend to hang out at my brother's.”

“Me, too. I almost feel like I'm betraying him just by being here. I'm used to knowing all the waitstaff by name.”

Their hostess, a redheaded college-­aged girl, smiled as she handed them their menus. “Then in that case, I'm Julie Jacoby. I know who you are, Will Sweet. You dated my sister last year.”

He faced her, eyes narrowed above a smile, as if trying to place her.

She raised a hand. “Don't worry, we didn't meet. I was finishing up my senior year at Colorado State. I just saw pictures of you.”

“Whew,” he said. “I like to think I have a good memory for faces, and I thought you were going to prove me wrong.”

Julie grinned. “I'll send your server over.”

He held out Lyndsay's chair, and she sat down. “Thanks. I think it's better to be here for a date than feel my brother's eagle eye on us all evening. Not that he'd care that we're having a drink, honestly.”

“He's protective of you. I get it. I have a little sister. When she started dating Tyler Brissette in high school, after he was getting into trouble and I heard that his brother just got out of prison, well, I had my doubts. But I didn't interfere; I trusted Steph, just like Tony trusts you. And Tyler's turned out to be a good kid, going to CMC, too. Heck, he's doing better than me; I dropped out.”

Their waitress brought ice water to the table and introduced herself as Linda, before taking their drink order.

“Why did you drop out?” Lyndsay asked Will after the waitress had gone.

Folding his hands, he leaned his forearms on the table. “Because I was the oldest—­at the time I'd been doing a lot of the work on the ranch alongside my dad. When you grow up on a ranch, you start at a young age, caring for baby chicks, calves, and of course for your horse. I'd learned to run cattle into chutes or cut a cow from the herd before I was ten. Now so did my brothers, of course, and Steph's no slouch, although it's obvious where her interest lies. But I was still the oldest, and I loved what I do here, even then. Being away just made me miserable. My parents kept encouraging me to enjoy school, and I learned a lot about animal science, of course, but eventually, I just didn't want to be there anymore. I'd dated all the women I wanted to.”

Lyndsay's mouth briefly dropped open until she saw his laughing eyes, and she joined his chuckle with her own. “Nice. I fell for that for a second.”

“More like a minute. Your eyes bugged out.”

Linda came back with their beer, and they placed their orders. They each wanted the Halftime's famous BLTs.

“And I thought you had dinner already,” he pointed out.

“No, I never said that—­I was just supposed to. But I ran out of time, or I was too nervous or—­” Oh, why had she admitted that?

His eyebrows rose. “Nervous? For a drink with me?”

He caught her hand across the table. It was pleasant to talk to him and feel so connected. His hands were big and strong, callused from the hard, physical work he did.

“It's silly, I know,” she said softly.

“It was that kiss,” he said in a husky voice, which had gone deep as he leaned toward her. “It . . . changed things.”

Her gaze dropped to his lips and lingered. “Yeah, I think so, too.”

He straightened up slowly, then took a sip of his beer, never breaking eye contact. “Then we need to put ourselves at ease. Tell me more about college. You lasted the whole four years, so you must have loved it.”

“I did. I loved college dances, I played trumpet in a little jazz band, I was a member of a great sorority, I even liked classes. I was president of SHAG—­”

He coughed on a swig of beer, and his eyes watered, making Lyndsay laugh as he had to let go of her hand for a napkin.

“SHAG?” he finally gasped.

“Bet you can't guess what it stands for.”

“I'm afraid to guess.”

“Scaredy cat. Sexual Health Awareness Group. We made students aware of the consequences of their decisions, and we had a booth at any campus fairs going on—­we gave away a lot of condoms to promote safe sex. Now aren't you sorry you dropped out?”

One corner of his mouth curled upward. “You've almost convinced me.”

“Anyway, I left college filled with starry-­eyed optimism. I'm certified in both math and science, and although I didn't get the first job I applied for, I got the second—­teaching math in my own hometown. I didn't think it could be better than that. And for a while, it truly was great, and the kids themselves never disappoint me. But you know,” she added, eyeing him, “I bet you liked the wilder aspects of college.”

“We're not going to talk about dating exploits, are we?”

“Nope. I think we both know enough about each other on that score. You'd have liked fraternity life—­or at least the pranks.”

“Me, pranks?” he said, his hazel eyes utter innocence.

Linda returned with their BLTs, and when she would have brought Lyndsay another beer, she declined. “I'm driving.”

Will toasted her with his second beer. “I could get used to having a designated driver.”

“Don't think you can distract me from your pranks. I know all about what you did on one of your annual ski trips with the boys. What were the details when you skinny-­dipped in a hot tub and raced across the hotel grounds to the fountain and back, getting yourself in a tabloid paper?”

“Hey, Josh dared me, not the other way around. When he did it, I had to save face and do it, too. I was just plain lucky he ended up in the paper buck-­naked instead of me.”

“Maybe being young and reckless runs in the family. From what you implied a ­couple days ago, your grandma and the Purple Poodles had their high school hopping. And I think you know even more than you said.”

He swallowed a bite of his sandwich. “Well, it wasn't always pretty. According to my grandma, there was a misunderstanding that she regrets.”

“Now isn't that rare,” Lyndsay teased, “your grandma admitting a mistake.”

“She was too proud, she told me, and it led to problems. Her father allowed her to host a cotillion at their ranch. Mrs. Thalberg's name was left off the invitation list, and the Purple Poodles believed it was because her family didn't think the Thalbergs were . . . of the right social circle.” He used air quotes for emphasis. “My grandma was furious that ­people thought this, and didn't dignify it by defending herself. Now I know why she was such a stickler for the truth when I was growing up.”

“Then what
was
the truth?”

“Mrs. Thalberg had apparently lured away a boy who'd been courting Grandma Sweet.”

Lyndsay eyed him in disbelief.

“I know, I know, it seems pretty minor for their big feud to be about a boy,” Will continued.

“Well, obviously it wasn't about a boy but the perception that Mrs. Thalberg wasn't good enough. Sheesh, you'd think they'd have talked about it after all these years.”

“Telling the truth now is Grandma's attempt at an olive branch. When I was a boy, she always went on and on about telling the truth, and I probably tuned her out a lot. She warned me that pride can be taken too far. It seemed to me like she wanted the truth to come out.”

“Her truth,” Lyndsay heard herself say before she'd even given it thought.

Will eyed her, his eyes alight with interest. “You think she's lying?”

“No, I wasn't implying that,” she quickly said. “It's just . . . over fifty years have passed. Sometimes our memories aren't quite the way we imagine. Or . . . maybe we just see what we want to see. I think there might be more to the story of Mrs. Sweet and the Purple Poodles.”

“Sounds like a kid's book.” But he regarded Lyndsay thoughtfully. “I kinda think the same thing myself.”

They focused on their food again, and Lyndsay bit deep into her BLT, moaning her enjoyment. When she opened her eyes, Will was watching her, his heavy-­lidded gaze intent, his smile gone.

“If you enjoy food this much, I have to wonder what other sounds you make when . . .” He trailed off.

She was briefly caught up in the possibilities of “what if.” “You enjoy teasing too much,” she said ruefully.

“Well, it's fun.” And that grin came back, bright as the sun first peeking out from beneath clouds in the morning.

She “enjoyed” another bite of her BLT before changing the subject to something safer. “I called the organizational leaders of the 4-­H to say you'd volunteered. You'll have to fill out some forms, be screened, all the stuff adult volunteers have to do to work with kids.”

“Makes sense. So what exactly will I be doing?”

“I'll send you some links with ideas for what to do each of the four weekly sessions. The group focused on life on a ranch this past year, with different topics every month—­they don't have meetings this summer, so the horse is the final activity for the year. We'll meet at the ranch, and you'll talk us through a different part of raising, caring for, and riding a horse each week. They'll ask lots of questions, of course—­you won't have to prepare much in advance.”

“Sounds easy enough. And did I hear you say ‘we'?”

“Well . . . I am the school advisor to the club. I got you involved—­it only seems right that I help if I can.”

His gaze drifted leisurely to her lips. “You mean you want to keep an eye on me.”

“Now that's not true.” Her mouth had gone dry, and she had to resist wetting her lips. Of course she wanted to keep looking at him—­it was the perfect pastime. “But kids can be a handful, and I know how to keep things under control.”

“Then you think they'll run roughshod over me.”

“Not necessarily.”

He put down the second half of his sandwich and leaned toward her. “Then what are you thinkin', darlin'?”

“I don't really know,” she said helplessly.

“I like to think I rattle you a bit,” he murmured, just above the noise of the crowd. “You certainly rattle me.”

“I do not! You're never rattled.”

“Well, I'm glad to see that that's my reputation. Makes me realize I hide things better than I thought.”

“I don't believe you, Will Sweet.”

“Then you don't know me as well as you think. Guess that's what dating is all about.”

She took a sip of her ice water and thought about all the women he'd gotten to know—­and then left behind. Maybe a little mystery would be good between them. Certainly, she had a secret she didn't plan to share anytime soon. . . .

 

Chapter 9

W
ill wasn't sure what he'd expected of the evening with Lyndsay, but he was certainly enjoying himself. Oh, there were always women who were easy to talk to, women who were good at the give and take of teasing, women who were honest, even when it made them look silly.

But it was rare to find a woman who was all of this and more—­the more being infinitely kissable. It was proving difficult not to stare at her mouth the whole evening—­thank goodness it was a natural thing to do when conversing, because otherwise she would have thought he only had one thing on his mind.

He didn't, but wanting another kiss—­and more—­was certainly right up there.

It was a little disconcerting to be so fascinated with her, but he didn't question it. He didn't need to. At some point he'd learn everything he needed to know, and then he could make the decision about when best to break things off. He was pretty good at that, after all this time.

But no need to think about that so soon. He was simply enjoying Lyndsay. He liked that she wasn't squeamish about his job—­a lot of women would have been appalled that coyotes had to be eliminated for the safety of the herd.

And one of the best things about her was that even though she wasn't enjoying teaching right now, she never let that interfere with her love of the kids themselves. Just the fact that she volunteered her time beyond school with the 4-­H really impressed him.

And on a lighter note, there was her enjoyment of food, he thought, watching her smack her lips approvingly as she finished the last piece of crust. He'd dated a lot of women who were so focused on having the perfect figure that it made dinners out awkward, as if he should be embarrassed by his appetite. He worked hard all day—­he was going to enjoy food.

“So what dessert are you going to order?” he asked.

“I'm pretty full.”

“No! I didn't think that was possible where dessert and you are concerned.”

She kicked his shin under the table, but amusement still shone in her eyes. Damn, she was cute.

When the check came, Lyndsay put up a pretty good fight about paying at least her share of the bill.

“Hey, I asked you out,” she said, her fingers on one side of the check, his on the other.

“You drove, using your gas money.”

She snorted adorably. “Yeah, what was that in Valentine Valley, a ­couple bucks?”

“Regardless, my momma would tan my hide if I let you pay.”

Not that he usually told his mom who he was dating. And lately, she'd seemed too stressed to be interested. He put that dilemma out of his mind and gave his credit card to Linda, who smirked knowingly.

He leaned over the table and murmured to Lyndsay, “She thinks I'm getting laid because of this.”

“You're not,” she murmured back, those flecks of gold in her eyes practically dancing. “I hold myself to a higher standard, surf and turf at the minimum.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“Because a girl has to have her little mysteries. And I hope you noticed—­no mystery tonight about my behavior. One beer doesn't make me drunk. So you won't have to practically carry me home.”

“
I'm
the one who might be drunk, and you're taking me home, remember?”

“
Are
you drunk?”

He studied her mouth. “I can be if you want to take advantage.”

Her grin was sly and merry all at once. After he signed the check, she retrieved her sweater and purse from the back of the chair and led him toward the door. This time he noticed ­people staring at them, and an occasional whisper. On the way in, he'd been too focused on watching her ass in those tight jeans.

He wasn't clueless; he knew he sometimes caused talk, although he tried not to do anything too notorious—­fountain skinny-­dipping notwithstanding.

But he found he didn't want to cause too much speculation for Lyndsay's sake. Out on the street, she came to an abrupt halt, as the rain had begun to come down again, making everything seem darker, except for the little pockets of light around the lampposts.

“Give me your keys and let me go get the car,” he said, keeping her beneath the awning.

“Oh, it's not worth it. And besides, I'm the designated driver. Let's run!”

And off she went before he could even answer, surprising him. Most women didn't want to get their hair and makeup wet, but she just glanced at him over her shoulder, laughing with such joy it made his chest ache a little. Brittany used to look at him like that.

Shit, where had that come from?
He'd never compared a dead woman to his dates. It gave him a moment of shock, and before he knew it, Lyndsay was at the corner, doing a twirl in the rain and beckoning to him.

He ran after her. It wasn't raining all that hard, but by the time they reached her car, parked beneath another lamppost, he could see mascara running down her cheeks and the variegated strands of her hair turning a deeper brown. With a click of her key fob, she had the doors opened, and they piled in from each side, laughing.

After tossing her purse and sweater into the backseat, Lyndsay yanked the mirror toward her and flipped on the ceiling light. “Oh, my face. I can barely see, yet I know it's bad.”

He saw a box of tissues on the backseat and reached over for one. When she tried to take it from him, he held the back of her head with one hand and used the other to wipe at the faint black smudges on her cheeks.

Her smile faded. He could hear the heavy sound of her breathing, knew it was because they'd run—­or was it? Was her heart pounding like his from their nearness to each other, not that little exertion back there? Her breath on his face was arousing, and he wanted to pull her into his arms, to really feel her whole body against his this time. But the steering wheel was near her hip, and damn these bucket seats. Where was a good bench seat when you needed one?

In the back.

But he couldn't ask her to hop in back, right on Second Street.

He leaned in to kiss her, slanting his mouth across hers, desperate to taste her, to think of Lyndsay and no one else, certainly not the past. Her lips were damp with cool rain, but her mouth was so warm and inviting. He tasted every part he could reach, danced with her tongue. He wanted to drag her across the bucket seat, but that wouldn't work, so he wrapped his arms around her and held her as tightly as he could. Her breasts were pressed flat against his chest, he let his hand dip down her back to her hip, feeling the curve—­until his elbow hit the steering wheel with a thunk.

She giggled against his mouth.

“I feel like a teenager,” he said, “making out in the car.”

She lifted her head, her gaze glued to his mouth. She shut off the overhead light even as she breathlessly said, “We shouldn't be doing this. I saw parents of some of my students back there—­oh, what the hell, the windows are fogged.”

And to his surprise, she cupped his face in her hands to pull him back for another long kiss, slower this time. They licked and nipped, and he followed the curve of her jaw with little kisses, loving the low sounds she made deep in her throat.

“Okay, okay,” she finally said, putting a hand on his chest when he would have licked his way down her neck. She palmed his chest briefly, eyes closed. “Oh, that feels good, but no, we have to stop now.” She sank back in her seat and just looked at him.

He leaned against his own window and looked back, smiling, until at last she started the car. They drove home through the light rain, not speaking, but it was a comfortable silence, and the sound of the rain was lulling. The road through the ranch was dark but for the distant lights of the main house, and they circled past it to the bunkhouse, where only the porch light was on. No one was home.

“I had a great time, Will,” Lyndsay said as she put the car in park. She didn't shut it off.

“I did, too. Can we do this again?”

Her sweet smile deepened. “I'd enjoy that. But next Wednesday I'll see you again because of 4-­H meeting at the ranch.”

“Good, but that's not soon enough. Will I see you tomorrow night at Tony's? We missed our usual Friday there.”

“That'll be a big ‘we're seeing each other' announcement. You up for that?”

He took her hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing the palm, letting her hand cup his face. Then he lifted his head and grinned at her. “You bet.”

They leaned forward and kissed once again, softly this time, just a brush of lips once, twice. He asked, “Do you want to come in?”

“I better not,” she said, reluctance obvious in her voice. “We don't want to take things too fast. We're still not certain we have all that much chemistry,” she added, chuckling.

“Oh, there's chemistry. I think I've got a Bunsen burner lit beneath me.”

She laughed, and the soft tenderness in her eyes was like a splash of cold water in the face.

He straightened away. “Good night, Lyndsay.”

“Good night, Will.”

He stood on the porch and watched her drive away. He was of two minds about the date. That tenderness had him thinking that dating her was a mistake, that he was going to hurt her when he inevitably pulled away—­and he always pulled away.

But she knew that about him; she had gone into this date with her eyes wide open. She wanted to have fun—­he'd give her some fun. But that was all.

Still, as he got ready for bed, he found himself remembering how he'd felt when Lyndsay had wanted to hop into the helicopter. He'd been eager even though he considered it his private, peaceful place alone with his thoughts and the occasional memory of Brittany. It was the first time he'd wanted to share it with someone outside his family, and that felt . . . strange.

L
yndsay arrived home and changed into dry clothes, humming with happiness. She'd had such a good time. It was wonderful to finally know that she and Will had
lots
of chemistry.

She thought to check her phone and noticed a bunch of texts from Kate:
Where are you?

She texted back:
Just got back from a date.

Kate answered:
WITH WILL! I heard from a friend of a friend.

And then her cell rang.

Lyndsay pressed the call button. “And who could this be?”

“You went out with Will and didn't tell me?”

Lyndsay laughed. “I asked him out yesterday and the date happened so fast, I didn't have time to call.”

“You asked him out and didn't tell me? I have to admit, I never thought you had the balls.”

“Hey, I have the balls! Okay, so I don't really have balls, but—­”

“Tell me everything about how you asked him out.”

And Lyndsay did, adding, “He said he was curious if we had chemistry, and so he kissed me right there in my classroom.”

Kate gasped dramatically, making Lyndsay's night.

“Was it a great kiss?”

“Oh, it was a great kiss, and tonight's was even better.”

“Tell me all the details.”

Lyndsay collapsed on the couch, and they spent a half hour dissecting the date until Kate was satisfied.

“I'm practically an old married lady again,” Kate said. “I have to live vicariously through you. Tony and I never even went on dates this last time around.”

“That's because you were sneaking around behind all our backs.”

“Well, yeah, it was pretty exciting.”

“I'm dating right out in the open—­as is obvious, since word got back to you so fast.”

“So you're going out again?”

“We're meeting up tomorrow night at Tony's—­you know that's not normally my night there, but I'm breaking out of a rut, remember.”

Kate laughed. “I remember.”

“And then we're going to see each other at the 4-­H club meeting at his ranch. But besides that, we don't have anything planned yet. We're just going to have fun until we don't anymore.”

“Well, aren't you the little optimist.”

“I'm a realist, remember? Will only lasts a month or two with a woman. I'm going to enjoy it for what it is.” But inside, she was already fighting the sadness of knowing it would all be over soon. “Heck, maybe I'm the one who'll get tired of him first. I'm not going to worry about that in advance though. And another thing I don't have to worry about is that Mrs. Thalberg—­or even, accidentally, my dad—­might have let something slip about my book being published. I haven't heard a thing from anyone.”

“I didn't think she would.”

“Me neither, but I'm paranoid over this, okay? Especially now that I'm dating Will.”

“Why?”

Lyndsay let out a deep sigh. The secret was just too much for her. “Well . . . there might have been something else about my book I didn't tell anyone—­and you cannot breathe a word, pinky swear!”

“I swear, I swear. Tell me!”

Lyndsay took a deep breath. “I created my characters first, spending a lot of time figuring them out, what they look like, how they behave, the way they talk. It wasn't until a ­couple weeks ago that I realized . . . my hero Cody is an awful lot like Will.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

“Kate?”

“You made Will your hero?” she breathed at last, her voice full of both amazement and laughter.

“Hey, this isn't funny—­it could be downright terrible if it got out. When I realized the truth, memories of my old high school crush on Will came back, and I wondered if my subconscious was trying to tell me something. Hence, the dating.” She covered her eyes with her forearm. “This is another reason I've been dreading ­people knowing about my book, another reason I should have used a pseudonym. I don't think his identity is totally obvious—­”

“Since you forgot to send me the file, I can't even confirm that for you.”