Montana Mavericks Weddings (11 page)

“I
'm ridin', Sierra. Look at me!” Rory grinned from his perch on the small gelding.

Sierra couldn't help smiling back. “You're doing a great job, too. Don't forget, keep your back straight and your heels down.” She scanned the boy's posture and nodded approvingly. “Perfect. You're a real natural at this. We're going to have you out herding cattle in no time.”

“I'm a cowboy. Dad, look at me.”

“I see, son. I guess if you're one of the working cowboys, I'm going to have to raise your allowance.”

Sierra tried not to let the sound of Dylan's voice have an effect on her. It was tough enough to concentrate just knowing he was standing by the corral railing, watching her. Not watching her, she amended quickly. Watching his son. She was just the instructor.

Or so she kept telling herself. But she didn't believe those words any more now than she had when she'd first arrived and Dylan had greeted her. There was no denying the man still had the power to get to her.

At least he hadn't tried to make small talk. She wasn't sure she could have suffered through that. She was still recovering from everything he'd told her last week—about still being in love with her.

Don't go there,
a voice in her head warned.
Dylan McLaine is nothing but trouble.

She forced her attention back to Rory. “That's it,” she said, turning in place as she stood in the center of the ring so she could keep the boy in view. “Relax your hands.” She walked toward him.

“Whoa, Chet. That's it. Pull back gently to bring him to a stop, Rory. But gently.” She patted the elderly gelding on his shoulder, then smiled at the boy. “Remember these reins are connected to a piece of metal in Chet's mouth. If you tug hard or keep pulling, you're going to hurt him.”

Rory frowned. “I don't wanna hurt him.” He leaned over and peered at the horse. “You okay, Chet?”

Chet snorted.

“He's fine,” Sierra said. “Just think about having braces and someone attaching a string to them. You wouldn't want that person jerking your head around, right?”

Rory drew his eyebrows together in fierce concentration. “Okay, Sierra. I'll remember.”

“You're really good,” she said. “You're learning fast. I'm impressed.”

Another grin split his face. Freckles dotted his nose and cheeks. He was a sweet kid and she couldn't help feeling drawn to him.

“Really?” he asked.

She reached up and tapped his nose. “Really.” She stepped back and slapped Chet's rump. “Go ahead. Start walking.”

Rory gave an exaggerated squeeze with his knees. Chet obligingly took a step forward. As she turned, she made the mistake of glancing up and found Dylan watching her. She was too far away to know what he was thinking, which was just as well. Just the sight of him leaning casually against the fence railing was enough to make her heart beat faster.

But she was determined to pretend he didn't matter. So instead of returning to her place in the center of the ring, she sauntered over to where he was standing. Although she was willing to let him think she was immune, she wasn't foolish enough to put herself in actual danger. She made sure she was well out of touching range.

“He's a natural,” she said and leaned against the wooden railing. Not only did her stance make her appear casual, but it also had the added advantage
of allowing her to watch Rory's progress without having to look at his father.

“He looks great on a horse. I really appreciate you taking the time to help him.”

She shrugged. “I don't mind. It's a fun change for me.” She paused, then decided the truth wouldn't be so bad—this one time. “He's a good kid, Dylan. You've done well raising him.”

“I think Rory gets all the credit.”

He continued to speak about his son, but she couldn't concentrate on his words. Her body betrayed her, shivering slightly in anticipation of his touch, even though she'd positioned herself so that wouldn't happen. Her mind, still reeling from all he'd said the last time they'd spoken, replayed his unbelievable statement—
I never stopped loving you.

Had he really said it? Had she imagined the words because she wanted them to be true? Did she want them to be true?

It didn't matter, she reminded herself. He couldn't still love her. Not after all this time. And based on all that had happened when he left, she wasn't sure he'd ever cared. But why would he lie about that? Was he trying to trick her into trusting him again? To what end?

“Back straight,” she called as the boy continued to ride around the ring. “Very good. Try to feel Chet's movements and sway with him, not against him.”
Rory moved back and forth in an exaggerated mimic of the horse's slow gait. “Excellent. Just like that.”

“You're very patient,” Dylan said.

“It's not difficult to be patient with one bright child. But I don't think I'd do well with a ring full of nine-year-olds.”

“You'd be fine.”

She made a fatal error in judgment and glanced at him. His dark gaze was warm and affectionate. Instantly her toes curled in her worn boots and she felt her heart begin to pick up its pace. Without wanting to, she leaned toward him.

Get a grip, she told herself and quickly straightened.

She turned her attention back to the child on the horse, grateful for the distraction. While she watched Rory, she searched her mind for a neutral topic of conversation. Something that would distract them from—she wasn't sure what, but they needed distracting.

“Have you found someone you want for the foreman job?” she asked.

“Sure.”

His easy answer made her stomach tighten in an involuntary flinch. He'd only asked her a couple of days ago. Foolishly she'd thought he'd meant the job offer. “Really?” She was pleased her voice sounded calm. “Who?”

“You.”

She turned toward him. “I said no.”

“I'm going to keep asking until you say yes. You're the right person. I can be very stubborn when I need to be.”

He gave her a slow smile. A smile she remembered from her past. A smile designed to make her want him all over again. Damn him, it worked. She felt her resolve melting and if he'd asked her again, right then, she might have found herself saying yes.

“You're destined to be disappointed on this one,” she told him, hoping her face didn't betray her inner thoughts.

“Life has taught me a couple of lessons. I'm no longer willing to give up things that are important to me. I've learned the value of hanging on, no matter what other people might think.”

She knew he was trying to tell her something, trying to explain a moment from their past. She didn't want to know what it was. Enough time had passed that she was no longer troubled by those memories, but that didn't mean she wanted to relive them.

Before she could figure out how to answer him, he pushed off the railing. “I nearly forgot. I have something for you. It's in the truck.” He turned and walked toward his barn.

Sierra watched him go, then returned her attention to Rory. She called out a few more instructions. Today he was simply getting the feel of being on the
back of a horse. Next time they would work on staying in the saddle during a trot.

Her gaze moved past the boy and she took in the wide-open spaces around the main buildings. Despite a few years of neglect, Dylan's newly purchased ranch was impressive. There was plenty of acreage, a huge three-story house, three barns, houses for the ranch hands, along with several thousand head of cattle. Once again she regretted the fact that he was the one offering her the job. If it had been anyone else, she would have jumped at the chance to run a place like this. The potential, the challenges, even the long hours of work all appealed to her. She could have made something of this place.

She heard footsteps behind her and angled toward him. He handed her a large, round box with a familiar logo on the top.

Sierra raised her eyebrows. “You bought me a hat?”

“Yours got trampled when you rescued Rory. It was the least I could do.” He shifted his weight as if he were uneasy. “I hope you like it.”

Sierra hesitated before opening the lid. While she appreciated the gesture, a hat was a very personal item. She wasn't sure what he would have bought, or if she would like it. If she didn't, she would have to act polite. If she did, well, she didn't want to think about that. A good hat lasted for years. Could she wear one Dylan had bought her without being forced
to think about him? Would the hat make a difference? Now that he'd reentered her world, she doubted she was going to be able to find a way to forget him.

She pulled off the top and drew out a black hat. A simple leather braid encircled the crown. She fingered the thick felt and she turned it over in her hands. The shape was familiar.

She looked at him. “This is just like my old hat.”

“I know. When I went to the shop, Harvey told me he'd shaped your last one, so I asked him to make this one just the same. You always were real particular about your hats.”

She wasn't sure which touched her more. That he'd gone to all the trouble to have this done, or that he remembered something so insignificant about her. Maybe both.

“I don't know what to say,” she murmured and set the hat on her head. It was a little new and stiff, but it still felt right. “You shouldn't have.”

“You saved my son,” he reminded her. “Besides, I wanted to give you something you would like.”

“I do like it. Thank you.”

Rory waved a hand. “Dad gave you the hat. Isn't it cool? I helped him pick it out.”

“Thanks. I love it.”

Rory beamed.

“He likes you,” Dylan said and leaned against the railing.

Sierra set the box on the ground outside the fence
and leaned against the wooden structure, careful to stay far enough from Dylan so they didn't accidentally touch. She might be able to speak with him about incidental things, but she wasn't ready to physically go another round with him. Their hot, passionate kisses had left her weak and hungry for him. She didn't have to be told twice that it was better for both of them if she kept her distance.

“I like him,” she said. “He's very good-natured.” Something he got from his father, she thought grimly, remembering Claire as being very demanding and not a pleasant person.

“He's lonely for female attention. I try to do the best I can, but I'm not enough to keep him from missing his mother.” Dylan grimaced. “Not that Claire was much of a parent.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let's just say she had more important things to do than worry about Rory.”

Sierra swallowed a sigh of regret. She didn't think she was going to ever have the chance to settle down and start a family of her own. So far she'd failed miserably at the game of love. She wasn't sure she had what it took to be a good mother, but she would very much like to have tried. Maybe with a strong man at her side she would have found the courage and the wisdom to do it right.

“Is that why you have custody?” she asked.

“Yes. It wasn't a battle. When she walked out, she left him behind.”

Sierra looked at the child riding Chet. The boy sat tall and proud, his freckled face glowing with happiness. She wanted to gather him close and hug him until he squirmed to be released. The intensity of her feelings surprised her. How could anyone have walked away from Rory?

“How often does she see him?”

“She doesn't.” There was no mistaking the bitterness in his voice. “It's been nearly a year and she's flown in twice. The last time was six months ago.”

“You've been divorced for a year?” she asked, surprised it had been that long.

“We've been living apart that long. The divorce has been final a couple of months. If you're asking why I waited this long to come back, it's because I wanted to be sure I was free of her.”

“I didn't ask.”

“Then I'm telling you.”

“I see.” It took every ounce of willpower to keep her gaze fixed firmly on Rory. From the corner of her eye she saw movement, but she didn't dare look. She didn't want to know what Dylan was doing, or what he was thinking. It was too scary. She refused to believe he'd come back for her. That she still mattered to him. She wasn't going to get her heart broken a second time.

Overhead, puffy clouds chased each other across
a brilliant blue sky. She inhaled the scent of grass and blooming flowers, and a darker, spice fragrance that was unique to the man standing next to her.

“Have you talked to Kirk?” he asked.

His question pricked her, causing her good mood to drain away like air out of a balloon. “There's nothing to ask him.”

“You don't believe I sent you letters.” He didn't ask a question.

“I don't think my brother kept anything from me.”

“So I'm lying.”

“I didn't say that.”

“You didn't have to. Damn it, Sierra, why would I lie about that? Just ask him.”

She found herself turning toward him. Anger danced in his eyes. He glared at her. “It's important.”

“For who?” she asked. “It was a long time ago.”

“It matters to both of us. We still care about each other.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“Deny it all you want, but I was there when you kissed me back the other day. You wanted me just as much as I wanted you. Nothing has changed.”

Frustration bubbled inside of her. It had always been like this with him. He had the ability to make her feel, to want. It wasn't fair. She liked having her life simple. So what if there was no intense pleasure? There was no soul-destroying pain, either.

“Everything has changed,” she told him. “We're
two different people. I don't want to go back to what we were.”