Ever After at Sweetheart Ranch (9 page)

“So do we have chemistry?” she whispered.

He let his forehead rest against hers, and their noses brushed. “Tell me what you think, darlin'.”

“That's not fair. I asked you out. You know what I think.”

His chuckle rumbled deep in his chest, and she wished she dared put her hands there—­but not yet. He paused a long time, so long that that hidden . . . something in his eyes played tricks on her mind.

“I think we need to have a drink some evening,” he finally said.

The relief and elation she thought she'd feel was tempered by this awareness of faint reluctance in him. But who could blame him? He'd been honest about the complications.

“You should probably hold back your wild emotions,” she said dryly, “or it could turn a girl's head.”

He laughed in an easier manner, then stepped away from her. She missed his touch already.

“Sorry,” he said, picking up his hat and settling it on his head. “This still feels a little . . . strange to me.”

“Me, too. Let's just think of it as having fun.”

“So after dating different kinds of guys, you've finally decided to try a cowboy on for size.”

She eyed him with amusement. “Guess so.”

“And Tony won't show up at my door with a shotgun?”

It was her turn to laugh. “I can't guarantee my dad won't take offense.”

“Guess we'll have to take a chance. How about tomorrow? I have to work through the early evening, but then I'm free.” He looked right at her mouth, as if he was already anticipating repeating the kiss.

And she was all for that. “Okay. How about if I come pick you up? I did ask you out, after all.”

That good-­old-­boy grin came back. “All right. See you around seven?”

“Sure.”

He started to turn, but he paused, and for a moment, she ached to be kissed again.

Instead he simply nodded. “Have a good evenin', darlin'.”

And then he walked away, and she was treated to the sight of his ass in those tight jeans, and his broad, broad shoulders beneath the Stetson.

When he was gone, she sank slowly back into her chair, almost tempted to touch her mouth, as if the kiss hadn't been real.

And then reality intruded and she thought about her book, and how embarrassed she'd feel if he knew the truth. She had to keep it away from him. She had a few weeks until it was common knowledge, and then . . . she'd find a way to dissuade him from reading it. She'd make sure he thought the book was purple prose, hearts, and flowers. Not a guy thing at all.

Would they even last a month, anyway? Women seldom did with him. Or maybe she'd be the first one to see that they had no future. That made her smile.

W
ill sat in the school parking lot in his pickup truck, both hands gripping the wheel, even though he hadn't started the engine yet. He wasn't quite sure what had happened. He'd gone there to help her out by volunteering, then he'd seen her in her sexy teacher clothes, imagined what was underneath, and lost his rational self. When she'd asked him out on a date, he'd been relieved more than surprised. He was a red-­blooded man, after all.

She'd taken the reins in her own hands and boldly asked him out. She'd started to talk about those complications they were both so aware of, and suddenly, he'd wanted to know what was really there—­he'd wanted to kiss her.

It had been an irresistible longing, and at the time he hadn't questioned it—­couldn't question it. He'd been so focused on needing to taste her that he'd barely kept himself from drawing her hard against him, desperate for the feel of her arms around his body, even her legs around his waist. Afterward, the enormity of those sensations had made him feel a little rattled. He wasn't used to feeling so out of control, so desperate. He never let a woman do this to him, and it had seriously made him consider turning her down.

And that's when he'd realized he would have been treating her differently from all the other women he'd dated, as if she had some kind of power over him. He wasn't going to let that happen. No, they'd go on a few dates and he'd make sure they both had fun, but in the end, it would be time to move on to the next woman.

It's how things had to be for him.

 

Chapter 8

A
ll the next day, time seemed to drag. When the last bell finally rang, Lyndsay called the 4-­H organizational leader, one of the parents, and said she had a replacement for Mr. Gonzalez—­because she hadn't remembered to call them yesterday.

Not that she'd called Kate either. Before she said anything, she would see what happened on the date with Will.

But after that kiss . . . how could there not be a great date? Maybe a series of dates, but that's all they'd be—­dates, just to get him out of her system.

But that kiss . . . the memory had lingered on through the evening and into today, which was a little unusual. It certainly made her look forward to the evening with him.

After work, she went home to change, settling on flats, skinny jeans, and a lace top over a blue tank. She grabbed a sweater for the cool mountain air, then drove out to the Sweetheart Ranch. She'd forgotten the beauty of the place, stretched along the base of the Elk Mountains. She used to come in high school for the big barbecue the Sweets threw every year.

There were acres and acres of hay rippling in the breeze, and near the cluster of barns, she could see horses in their corral, grazing. No cattle, though. They were all up on their grazing allotment in the White River National Forest. The house itself was no old farmhouse; it had been built in the '60s when the family had renovated their old house in town into the Sweetheart Inn. This was a two-­story expanse of glass, dark wood siding, and elegant landscaping.

Now that she thought about it, she hadn't asked where she was supposed to meet him on this vast ranch. She drove around the circle that led past the front door and parked, but the place felt kind of deserted, with no other vehicles. They probably parked around back.

Just when she was about to head up the front steps, she heard the distant sound of a helicopter approaching. She looked up, shielding her eyes, to see it coming fast from the direction of the mountains, heading right toward her—­but that was ridiculous.

The trees seemed to bow and shake when it passed overhead, and the wind began to kick up dead leaves and dirt. Then the helicopter slowed and seemed to hover a hundred yards away, and that's when she saw the two occupants, both wearing headsets. One was giving a wave, and by the dark hair, she thought it was Daniel. And at the controls—­Will, dark sunglasses hiding his eyes. She'd totally forgotten the “hobby” he'd acquired a few years back. Or that's how her brother teasingly referred to it. Will always swore that he flew for the ranch, even when other cowboys, including the Thalbergs, snickered.

Will rotated the helicopter so he was the one nearest her, then gestured somewhere back beyond the house. She waved, deciding to drive there, because who knew how far he wanted her to go.

They seemed to be waiting for her, because as she drove the gravel road that went around back, they flew ahead of her like a queen bee leading a lowly beetle. And then she saw where they were headed. Beyond the barns was a newer metal building, obviously a hangar for the helicopter. After parking what she thought was a safe distance away, she got out, then leaned against the car to watch Will slowly bring the helicopter to earth. Grass waved and flattened, dirt kicked up, and no sooner were they on the ground than Daniel hopped out, a shotgun slung over his shoulder. He bent low as he ran beneath the spinning blades toward her.

“Hey, Lyndsay,” he said loudly, to be heard above the engine.

He didn't smirk or make a comment about Will and her getting together. She hoped it was going to be that easy with everyone else.

“Hi, Daniel.” She eyed the gun.

“Coyote. He'll tell you about it. It takes a few minutes to cool down before he can shut it off. He won't mind if you join him while he waits.”

“Okay, thanks.”

She headed toward the helicopter, feeling the wind rush over her, forcing her to hunch the closer she got. Will was focused on the controls, oblivious to her approach. She couldn't have shouted his name, so she settled for waving an arm in his line of vision. Startled, he looked at her, and with the headset, sunglasses—­and impassive expression—­he didn't seem like himself.

Then he gave her a crooked grin, opened the clear door, and shouted, “Sorry this takes so long. Can't shut the engine down cold.”

“Can I get in?”

He surprised her by hesitating before saying, “Hop in and put on the headset. Easier to talk.”

Still hunched, she hurried around the front to the far side, opened the door, and hopped onto the bucket seat. Will handed her the headset. After she donned it, she was surprised how much the noise of the engine faded.

His voice seemed almost scratchy in her ears as he said, “Hi, Lyndsay.”

They smiled at each other.

He kept glancing at his watch. “Gotta time things,” he said, and flipped a switch.

“Flying would make an interesting first date,” she said.

To her surprise, he didn't offer to take her up sometime. But he was focused on what he was doing, a laminated checklist in his hand, and she didn't want to disturb him. At last the blades began to slow, and soon they were sitting in a perfectly quiet machine.

Will took his headset off, waited for her to do the same, then said, “Sorry. I didn't mean to be up in the air when you arrived. I haven't even showered.”

“Take your time, we're not on a schedule. Daniel said you were dealing with coyotes?”

“Up near our grazing allotment.”

Her eyes widened. “So Daniel shot them from the air?”

“He prides himself on his shooting accuracy. It comes in handy. I hope that doesn't make you too squeamish.”

She shook her head. “Nope, you have to protect the cattle, I get that.”

“Follow me. I'm a fast changer.”

They both got out of the helicopter and walked side by side across the dirt path that linked the hangar and the other outbuildings. He led her to a low ranch-­style building, utilitarian looking, with no landscaping but a ­couple of chairs and a picnic table.

“My brothers and I live in the old bunkhouse,” he said, opening the main door for her.

Once inside, she couldn't help smiling as she said, “Old?”

The place had obviously been remodeled, for there was a modern, open layout, with a kitchen at the rear, only an island separating it from the rest of the room. A dining table and chairs were positioned to the left, and a sectional sofa was grouped around a big flat-­screen TV on the right. On either side, a ­couple of short hallways had closed doors leading off them.

“Our bedrooms,” he said, acknowledging where she looked. “Bathrooms, linen closets, laundry room, that kind of stuff.”

“For some reason, I thought you still lived in the main house.”

He shrugged out of his tan Carhartt jacket. “That worked for a while, but by the time I was twenty-­seven or twenty-­eight, I began to feel kinda weird still living at home. But the ranch needs us twenty-­four hours a day, so I didn't really want to live in town. This was the perfect solution. Daniel and I are here the most. Technically, Chris still lives here, but since Heather has that big old Victorian for her catering company, she's made the second floor into an apartment. He's there a lot, needless to say.” He gestured to the sofa. “Make yourself at home. I'll be quick.”

She could tell guys lived in the place, for there was nothing hanging on the walls except a single rodeo poster. She remembered his parents' home, with all the medieval and mystical paintings on the walls: magical forests, waterfalls, and castle ruins were abundant. Guess the brothers didn't take after their bohemian parents. Ranching and cowboy magazines were scattered on end tables, and gaming controls covered the coffee table. She was just heading to the big bookshelf with interest, when the screen door opened and Daniel strode in.

He didn't look anything like what someone would think of as a typical cowboy, not with his tattoos and piercings, his t-­shirt with the arms cut out. She didn't even remember the last time she'd seen him wearing a cowboy hat.

He gave her a smile as he went to grab a water from the fridge. “Can you give Will a message for me? Tell him I called that supplier we discussed. Mom didn't get around to it in time, so I took care of it.”

“Okay, sure.”

After Daniel left, she spent most of the fifteen minutes Will was gone at the big bookshelf.

She had her face in a Danielle Steel book when he returned, dressed in his usual jeans and cowboy boots, but this time paired with a cream-­colored, long-­sleeve Henley. His light hair was still dark with moisture, and she liked the hint of curls. And he'd shaved, she thought, imagining holding his face in her hands. But not where his brothers could walk back in any moment.

She held up the book. “Danielle Steel?”

“It was my mom's. I was bored one night. It was good.”

“I know.” She shook her head with amusement. “The rest is pretty typical guy stuff, including Tom Clancy, who I happen to love.”

“You read Clancy?” he asked in surprise, coming to stand beside her.

“Yep. I really enjoy his ability to take a lot of apparently random plot threads at the beginning, and weave them together until you're just blown away by how it all connects.”

“You sound like a teacher,” he said, smiling.

Author,
she thought, still feeling proud and giddy over her new status.

“I just like the military stuff,” he said.

She nodded. “The helicopters.”

“Yeah, that, too.”

They shared a grin, and she felt a little shock of surprise that they'd found something they had in common. She'd been telling herself that there couldn't possibly be anything they shared, but she'd discovered it was books. And that was a really good thing to an author.

As they continued to look at each other, their smiles slowly died as the memory of their hot kiss rose between them, as if a visible thing. She couldn't take a deep enough breath, and she almost asked if he wanted to show her his bedroom.

Okay, enough of that. She'd never slept with a guy on the first date, though he was tempting.

“Oh, Daniel was just here,” she said, chagrined at how breathless she sounded. “He said to tell you that he called the supplier you wanted called.”

Will frowned. “I thought Mom was taking care of that.”

“He said she didn't get around to it, so he took care of it.”

“Okay.”

But a line still lingered between his eyes. She wondered if there were problems on the ranch, but it wasn't something she'd expect him to confide in her.

To lighten the subject, she asked, “Where should we have our drink? I'm tempted to drive us to Aspen, just so we can have some peace and quiet.”

“I'll do whatever you want me to do,” he offered. “But I don't plan to keep you hidden away.”

That touched her. “Thanks. But I say we skip Tony's. We both hang out there enough anyway.”

He nodded. “Talk about no peace. What about the Halftime Sports Bar? I was flying through dinner,” he admitted.

“Okay, and I'm always up for food.”

He glanced down her body, eyes gleaming, and when he spoke, his voice was almost a low growl. “You wouldn't know it.”

Her heart seemed to slam against her ribs, and she had to lick her dry lips before saying weakly, “Thanks.” She turned toward the door on unsteady legs.

As they drove through the ranch toward town, Lyndsay kept a firm grip on the wheel and said, “It's gotta be pretty exciting to use a helicopter for work.”

He shrugged. “Sure, but I'll be honest—­we don't have a lot of reason to use one around here. I first saw them being used on hundred-­thousand-­acre spreads in Texas, where there's four thousand head to round up. They use five or six helicopters all at once, hovering around like cow dogs. With just cowboys on the ground, moving that size herd could take weeks rather than days.”

“Sounds really fascinating.”

“It is, but I worry my dad regrets the purchase sometimes. Helicopters have a tough time at altitudes above ten thousand feet, depending on the engine and the make. Since we're already at almost seven thousand, that doesn't leave us much room to play with.”

“You can use it for other things, right?”

“Wildfires. A ­couple years ago, they had a dangerous one at the Silver Creek Ranch, and we came in with our bucket swinging from a cable attached beneath. I dipped it in ponds and flew over the fire, making my drop.”

“Wow, I remember hearing about that.”

“It was a little scary for a while. In this desert climate, you know how we all fear fire. If it starts to spread, we're all in danger.”

“Do you do search and rescue stuff?”

She thought his expression betrayed tiredness as he answered.

“Only in an emergency. Chris keeps trying to talk me into renting it out more. He's all gung-­ho on exciting helicopter stuff—­not that he wants to learn himself. But I like what I do on the ranch. He's starting to make me feel backed into a corner about it, you know? I don't want to be pulled several different ways. I'm a rancher, and that's all I want to be.”

He looked out the window rather than at her, and she wondered if there was more to the story.

“I understand about being pulled in different directions against your will,” she said softly, even as she cruised Main Street looking for a parking spot. “Teaching's sometimes like that. More kids in the class, not enough help so you can meet the needs of a lot of different kinds of kids and still fill out all the paperwork. It's hard to see an end to the problems.”

She found a parking spot on a side street, and they walked in easy silence to the Halftime Sports Bar. Though the sun had set behind the mountains, it wasn't fully dark yet. The old-­fashioned lampposts had begun to flicker on. There were ­couples and groups of ­people here and there, but May was still off season, and the crowds wouldn't pick up until July. The nineteenth-­century buildings alternated between brick and colorful clapboard, one and two stories. There were lots of US flags and planters that would soon be overflowing with geraniums and petunias. Valentine was a beautiful place to live.