Never Too Late (29 page)

Matt's
heartfelt words stirred something inside Ruth, something elusive and
indefinable—a longing she couldn’t quite grasp—and she found herself at a loss
for words. And as she silently held his gaze, the wind tossed a shock of hair
across her forehead. Matt brushed it aside and rested his hand on her shoulder.
She stirred uneasily. She didn't like the warm feeling she got when Matt looked
at her the way he was, as though he cared. She was living a lie for the sake of
her daughter and she'd never felt more deceitful in her life.

Beware. Don't open your heart to him. If
Annie is Beth, you'll have to take her away from him. If Annie isn't Beth,
he'll be irrelevant...

"Lighten
up, Ruth," Matt said. "I see that little frown between your brows
again."

The spell
broken, Ruth dipped her shoulder from his hand, and
said,
"We'd better get on with my riding lesson." She looked up at the
horse then glanced around for something to stand on. Finding nothing, she
braced her hands on her hips, and said, "There's no way I can get on this
horse. He's too tall. I need something to stand on."

Matt jammed his
hat on his head. "If you're out riding and your horse dumps you on your
backside, you'll either get back on or have a long walk home. Now, grab the
horn, get your foot in the stirrup and swing up. Even Annie can do that."

Ruth met his
challenging gaze. Someday she'd tell him what she thought of the lot of them,
that they were nothing more than overgrown boys who never stopped playing
cowboys. But for now, she was determined to somehow get herself up on the
horse, just to show the cocky cowboy she could. Reaching up high, she managed
to clamp onto the saddle horn, but after she'd braced her foot in the stirrup,
when she attempted to haul herself up, she seemed stuck midway.

"Geeze!"
Big hands curved around her hips and Matt hoisted her up. "From here on
out, you're on your own to mount your horse."

As she settled
against the saddle, Ruth stiffened her spine, and said, "Isn't there
someone else who could teach me to ride? We don't work very well
together."

Matt gave a
kind of grudging laugh, and replied, "You're right, I have a problem with
helpless females. I'll send Randy to take over." He strode towards the
stables in long, ground-eating strides. He couldn't remember when he'd met a
more infuriating woman. And he knew damn well Ruth was anything but helpless.
The odd thing was
,
he liked this spunky side of her.
He liked the way her eyes flared when she was pissed, and the stubborn way she
lifted her chin when confronting him. And when she pressed her lips in
disapproval, all he wanted was to kiss them into soft submission. Nor had her
shape escaped him—her nicely-rounded butt, her small waist, her full breasts.
And he'd bet his last buck the skin beneath her western-cut shirt and
tight-fitting jeans was as soft as the muzzle of a newborn foal.

She was also
right about him teaching her to ride. They didn't work well together. Exactly
what she did that made him short fused, he couldn't figure. He'd always prided
himself on his tolerance and self-control when teaching a greenhorn to ride.

He looked ahead
and saw his newest hand. The kid had a nice way about him and was young enough
to view Ruth as an older woman to be treated with respect. He was also about as
skilled with horses as any wrangler he'd ever had. "Hey Randy," he
called out...

***

Several hours
later, Ruth swung down from her horse like a seasoned rider. She slapped at her
jeans, sending puffs of dust into the air. Though her butt was sore, her face
sunburned, and she ached in places she hadn't known existed, she felt a sense
of exhilaration with her newfound skill. Randy, unlike his intolerable boss,
had the patience of Job. After having her spend the first ten minutes learning
to mount and dismount, she was able to bend her leg, give a little hop, and be
up on the horse with relative ease. And she'd learned terms like cinch and
pommel and skirts, as well as most of the parts of the horse, though she still
got some terms confused. Randy promised to write it all down, and she was
determined to memorize it all before her riding lesson the following day. What
pleased her most was that after only a few rounds in the corral, she could stand
in her stirrups while the horse ambled around the ring. And when the horse
trotted, she remained square in the saddle.

They'd spent
the next four hours riding fence, though Ruth knew Randy
on
his own
would have covered far more territory than they had together.
But he never let on. She'd also sat her mount while the horse waded knee-deep
in water as they crossed a river. And although she'd clung to the saddle horn
when the horse lunged up the opposite embankment, she'd nevertheless, hung on.
Randy laughed like he was enjoying the outing, and praised her skill as a
beginner. He also assured her that before the four days were done, she'd be
scaling the embankment without the aid of the saddle horn. And she was set on
proving him right and Matt Kincaid wrong.

A few minutes
later, as she stood inside the barn, brushing Dynamite, a shadow fell across
them. She looked up to find Matt's tall, broad-shouldered frame in the doorway.
A big man with an imposing presence, he was there, she suspected, to pick up
where they'd left off. She couldn't remember exactly where that was, but it
made her annoyed.

Matt pushed his
Stetson back with one finger. "I see you made it back in one piece."

Gripping the
brush, Ruth began brushing in short, quick strokes. "Yes, thanks to
Randy's patience and pleasant disposition."

Matt ambled
over to where she stood, and with an amused smile on his lips, he said,
"Honey, if you're trying to brush that horse bald you're going at it the
right way."

"I am not
your honey," Ruth said. She'd had her fill of this sweet talking cowboy.
The brush strokes became harder, faster. "Is there something you
want," she snapped, "or are you just here to irritate me?" As
soon as she said the words she knew she'd overstepped her bounds again. Matt
was, after all, her boss. He also had a knack for bringing out the worst in
her.

A large palm
came around to cover her hand, stopping the frantic motion. "Simmer down,
sweetheart, or you'll brush the coat right off the dang horse."

Ruth tightened
her mouth. Her objection to his hollow endearments didn't faze the man. She
pulled her hand from under his and looked up to meet a pair of amused eyes and
a cocky grin. "What's so funny?"

A rowdy
expression came in his eyes. "I don't think you really want to know."

"I asked, didn't
I?"

"Suit
yourself
," Matt said. "I was enjoying the way your
butt sashayed back and forth when you were brushing the bejesus out of that
horse."

Ruth stopped
brushing momentarily, gave him a sharp look, and said, "I’d appreciate it
if you’d save those kinds of remarks for Lorinda!"

Matt arched a
brow. "Who told you about her?"

"I have my
sources."

Matt chuckled.
"Annie-Big-Mouth."

"You're
not exactly subtle around her," Ruth said. "Annie's very aware of
your fascination with Lorinda's... attributes."

Matt let out a
short guffaw. "Every cowboy within spitting distance of Lorinda is
fascinated with her attributes."

Ruth moved to
the other side of the horse to put some distance between them. Focusing on the
brush in her hand, she said, "Well, your salivating over the woman is not
a very good example to set. Annie will think men are only interested in women
as sex objects."

"Annie's
not into that right now."

His
self-assured comment riled Ruth. "You have no idea about the mind-set of a
little girl. You and the rest of the bunch around here treat Annie like she was
one of the boys. I doubt she’s ever had her hair fixed with ribbons or even
owns a dress.

"Annie
wouldn't wear a dress if she had one," Matt said. "And there'd be
hell to pay if anyone tried to put ribbons in her hair."

"How do
you know? Have you ever tried?"

Matt gave a
cynical snort. "No, but you can have at it."

"Fine, I
will." Ruth realized she was frantically brushing the horse again and
slowed her movements. She also made a firm vow to get Annie into a dress and
put ribbons in her hair if it was the last thing she did.

The barn
darkened and Ruth turned to find Annie's small frame standing in the doorway.
Annie pressed her hands beneath her eyes and pulled downward, distorting her
features while sticking out her tongue. Ruth feigned a smile, but she couldn't
shake the hurt she felt on seeing Annie's hostile, deliberately distorted face.
If Annie was Beth, how could she feel such enmity towards a mother who'd loved
her with all her heart?

Unless she also
felt betrayed by that same woman who disappeared from her life without saying
goodbye. A woman Beth's soul would remember, even if Beth didn't. Which might
explain Annie's behavior. But there was another side to the issue, a side Ruth
found far more troubling than Annie's hostility. She was finding it hard to
like
Annie.

How could a
mother feel anything but tenderness and heartfelt love for her own child? How
could there be anything but a deep, soulful affinity? Still, there were moments
when she'd wanted to take Annie by the shoulders and shake her, that she also
longed to take her in her arms and hold her. And those were the moments she'd
keep close to her heart, because to concede would be to fall back into the
hopelessness that had marked her life for the past four years...

Matt looked in
the direction of Ruth's gaze and Annie's face returned to normal. He motioned
for Annie to join them. "Did you finish in the henhouse?"

Annie shook her
head.

"Then get
on back and finish your chores so you can take Ruth around and introduce her to
the ranch dogs."

"I don't
want to show her the dogs."

"Sorry
pal, you don't have a choice."

Annie rolled
out her bottom lip in a pout and didn't budge.

Matt peered
down at her. "Tuck that slab of ham back in your mouth, and do as you're
told."

Annie pinned
Ruth with resentful eyes. "She keeps staring at me."

Matt's gaze
darted between the two females, coming to rest on Annie. "She's probably
trying to figure you out. You're like a puzzle with missing pieces. Ruth has
some of the pieces—she knows you're smart and have pretty hazel eyes and a
great pair of lungs. But she wants to know more. And frankly, kiddo, you
haven't made it very easy on her. In fact, you've been a real pain in the
butt."

Annie eyed Ruth
with disdain. "I still don't like her."

"Yeah,
well, that's your problem," Matt said.

"Will you
take me shooting if I do everything?" Annie asked, looking up at her
father.

"You got a
deal." Matt gave her a high five.

Annie slapped
Matt's big palm with her little one and skipped toward the chicken yard.

Matt stared
after her in amusement. "Manipulative little filly." He gave Ruth a
lopsided smile. "She's also got her old man pegged. All she has to do is
roll those big pretty eyes at me and name her ticket."

"And that
ticket is going shooting." Ruth said in a cynical tone. "I assume she
meant shooting guns, not pool, not that shooting guns would be any
better."

Matt shrugged.
"Annie has a 22 rifle she got for her birthday. The boys chipped in and
bought it for her and she's real proud of it. She's pretty good with it
too," he added.

Ruth glared at
Matt. The idea of a six-year-old sporting a rifle, a girl no
less,
brought her temper rising just below the surface, whether that child was Annie
or Beth. "Do you really think shooting a gun is appropriate for a little
girl?"

Matt's face
sobered. "It is when she's out riding and a rattlesnake crosses her
path."

Ruth looked at
him in alarm. "You have rattlesnakes here?"

"Sure. It
wouldn't hurt you to learn to shoot too." An amused glimmer came into his
eyes. "In fact I'll teach you myself."

"You
forget
,
we don't work well together."

"Yeah,
well, we'll work on that because I’ll be the one to teach you."

The thought of
standing with her back to Matt in the circle of his arms, and his hands on hers
to steady her rifle, made Ruth's breath catch. Dismissing the unnerving
thought, and said, "I don't suppose it would make any difference if I told
you I didn't want to shoot a rifle."

"None at
all."

Resigned, Ruth
returned to the issue of Annie. The man was hopelessly off track when it came
to raising a daughter. He was also as oblivious as his men, she suspected, when
it came to gifts for little girls. While returning to brushing the horse, she
said, "Has anyone around here ever thought of giving Annie jewelry or
pretty dresses, or maybe a doll house for her Barbies?"

"Dresses
and doll houses for Annie?" Matt smiled then, a warm smile of affection
that had the odd effect of triggering a dull, hard thumping in Ruth's chest.
"Knowing Annie, she'd rather have a toy barn and horses for her Kens. And
let’s just slow that brush down…" He placed his hand over Ruth's, and this
time she didn’t pull away. The warmth of his hand moving with hers invoked a
bizarre sense of longing that was as strong as it was unexpected. She glanced
up at him. "Still, I want to get her something pretty."

His hand still
covering hers, Matt stopped the movement of the brush, peered down at her with
eyes that shone as if each possessed its own little sun, and said in a
quiet
 
voice, "I'm glad you've come
to us, Ruthie girl. This place needs a woman's touch."