Once a Rebel (3 page)

The largest of the three, a black Lab, lifted its head as Susan approached, then leaped forward to greet her like an old friend. The other two, mutts of unknown origin, barely paid her any mind.

Within seconds, Ethan flung open the door, and her pulse jumped to her throat. He looked tall and strong—a man with a powerful presence. Shadows cut across his shoulders, dappling the front of a chambray shirt. Beneath the brim of his ever-present hat, those bright blue eyes glittered like twin jewels.

The mixed-breed dogs glanced up at him, but the Lab stayed by her side.

“He likes women,” Ethan told her.

“So you're a boy,” she said to the Lab.

“His name is Chocolate. But don't blame me for that. My ex-girlfriend named him.”

Curious, Susan tilted her chin. His voice held no malice, but it didn't ring of affection, either, or any kind of substantial loss. It made her wonder about Ethan's capacity to fall in love.

“Are you analyzing me?” he asked.

Caught red-handed, she adjusted the canvas bag over her shoulder. “What can I say? You're a fascinating subject. Besides, you brought up your ex.”

“Only because of Chocolate's name. And you fascinate me, too. You always did. Even if I never kissed you.”

Susan glanced at his mouth, and that familiar smile spread across his lips. He was flirting with her, letting down his guard. And she was tempted to flirt back, to enjoy the affection she used to crave from him.

Enraptured, they gazed at each other, with Chocolate standing between them. Then the dog decided he wanted some attention and jammed his nose against Susan's crotch.

She started, and Ethan bit back a laugh.

“I told you he liked women.”

“That's not funny. You should correct him.”

“I do, but he never listens. Especially about that.”

“So you just gave up?”

He shrugged, and she shook her head and shoved the canvas bag at him. A gentle shove that had him smiling at her again.

“What's in here?” he asked. “Dirty magazines? A month's supply of condoms?”

She raised her eyebrows. When Ethan flirted, he
flirted.
No holds barred. “It's our lunch, you pervert.”

“Look who's talking. The girl who drove every boy in the county mad.”

“I don't do that anymore.”

“Wanna bet?” He grinned and peered into the bag, examining the contents. “Fried chicken gets a guy every time.”

“There are cookies in there, too.”

“Chocolate chip?”

She glanced at the Lab, making sure he didn't react too strongly to his name. “Peanut butter. But I didn't bake them. They were left over in the kitchen.”

“I'll bet Rosita made them,” he said, referring to Ryan and Lily's housekeeper. “She used to give me sweets when I was a kid.”

Susan nodded. She knew that Rosita's husband, Ruben, was a retired ranch hand, a man who'd worked with Ethan's dad. “How's your father doing these days?” she asked, assuming he'd retired, as well.

Ethan's easy manner faltered. “Dad died four months ago. I guess Ryan didn't tell you.”

“No, he didn't. I'm sorry.”

“Ryan's had a lot on his mind.” He heaved a heavy sigh. “But he took it pretty hard. He and Dad were close.”

“So were you and your father,” she said, recalling the stable relationship they'd had, the respect between them. “I always envied you that.”

“It's been tough these past few months. I really miss him.” He closed the canvas bag, shifting his gaze, changing the subject. “Why don't you come in and see the cabin? Then we can go for a ride and eat all the wonderful food you brought.”

She followed him into the house, with Chocolate nipping at her heels. The other dogs remained outside.

The cabin consisted of one large room, a simple kitchen and a closet-size bathroom. Animal pelts and hunting trophies lined the walls. A leather couch that she assumed was a sofa bed sat adjacent to a stone fireplace, and braided area rugs padded portions of the wood floor. In the corner, a small oak table accommodated two rustic chairs.

“None of this stuff is mine,” Ethan said. “My belongings are in storage. I'm waiting for escrow to close on the gentleman's ranch I bought.”

“Gentleman's ranch?”

“A property with less than a hundred acres,” he explained. “Where the owner makes his living at something other than ranching.”

“Did you sell your dad's house after he died?”

Ethan nodded. “He'd already signed the deed over to me. But I just couldn't live there anymore. Too many memories. I figured this was a good time to start over.
But the escrow dates didn't mesh, so that's why I'm in between homes, renting this place from Ryan.”

“I live in a condo near the wharf,” she offered.

He searched her gaze. “Do you like San Francisco?”

As a montage of overworked days and exhausted nights spun through her mind, she contemplated her answer. “I fit in there.”

He pushed his hat back a little, revealing the expression in his eyes. An emotion she couldn't quite name.

“You're a city girl,” he said.

“I'm dressed like a country girl today. Wranglers instead of designer jeans.”

Her comment made him smile, but only for a moment. His intensity remained. She couldn't think of anything to say, so she let the silence engulf them. Ethan had been a complicated boy, and he'd grown into a complex man. But she expected as much.

“Should we saddle the horses?” she finally asked.

“Sure.” He was still holding the food she'd prepared. “Country boys like me need to get out on the open range.”

“Sounds okay to me,” she teased. “I've always had a thing for you cowboy types.”

“I know.” He angled his head to look at her, to roam his gaze over her body. “Opposites attract. It's a trick of nature. What gets us in trouble.”

Heat spiraled through her veins, making her sexually aware, reminding her of how long it had been since she'd had a lover, a man who meant something to her. But even so, Susan knew better. “We're not in trouble.”

“Yes, we are,” he said, as he took her hand and led her outside, making her pulse pound all over again.

“J
ust because we're attracted to each other doesn't mean something is going to happen,” Susan said.

Ethan eyed his companion. They stood beside the hitching post, the sun glaring above their heads, raining warmth down their backs. Whom was she trying to convince? Him or herself? “If you say so.”

“I do.” She struggled with the girth. “Nothing happened when we were kids and nothing is going to happen now.”

He took over, nudging her aside, realizing she didn't remember how to saddle a horse. “Nothing happened because I didn't let it.”

“And I'm not going to let it happen this time,” she said.

He shrugged, told himself it didn't matter. “I'm okay with just being friends.”

“So am I.” She turned to look at him, to ease the tension, to create a casual vibe.

But it didn't work. Not for Ethan. He wanted to touch her, to smooth her hair away from her cheek, to brush his mouth across hers.

Friendship had its drawbacks, he thought.

He finished saddling their horses, then packed their picnic supplies.

“What's my mare's name?” she asked.

“Serene.”

“That's a calm name.”

“She's a calm horse. But she's lazy, too.” He patted the old Appaloosa's neck. “Of course, she plods along just fine on trail. She'll follow Sequoia anywhere.”

“Sequoia.” Susan studied his gelding. “That fits him. He's nearly as big as a redwood tree. The same color, too.” She leaned against the hitching post. “We have lots of redwoods in California.”

“I've never been there.” He wouldn't mind taking a trip to the Sequoia National Forest, but that was as far as his interest in California went. He couldn't imagine himself in Susan's neck of the woods, traipsing around San Francisco like a misplaced cowboy.

She moved closer to Serene, letting the horse get to know her. Ethan watched her fuss with the mare's mane, combing her fingers through it. Serene seemed pleased, but he figured the Appaloosa recognized a sucker when she saw one. Susan was babying her as if she were a child.

He squinted beneath the brim of his hat. “You're spoiling her.”

“She's already spoiled.”

“She came that way.”

Susan stroked Serene's nose. “Oh, that's right. You inherited her from one of your clients.” She bumped his shoulder, teasing him. “And now you're stuck with her.”

“She needed a home. And Sequoia bonded with her.” He bumped Susan's shoulder right back. “Do you need a boost up?”

“I can handle it.” She grabbed the horn and hoisted herself onto the mare's back, the saddle creaking beneath her butt.

Ethan adjusted her stirrups. “How's that?”

“Good.” She pushed her heels down. “I'm glad you invited me on a date. It's nice to spend some time with you.”

“I think so, too.” He liked the changes in her, but he liked remembering her as she'd been, too. The girl he'd wanted to protect. The girl who'd needed someone to care.

Ready to hit the trail, he mounted his horse, wishing she'd give him a chance. He didn't understand what harm would come from a romantic interlude, from a man and woman, two consenting adults, exploring the chemistry that had always been between them.

Chocolate wagged his tail and barked.

“You're not coming with us,” Ethan told him.

The dog barked again, only louder this time. Then he whined and looked at Susan.

“Why can't he come?” she asked.

“Because he's a pest.”

“I don't mind.”

“So you say. Just wait.”

“We can't leave him here. Not like that.” By now, the
Lab was practically pleading, howling like the con artist he was.

Most veterinarians owned animals that behaved. But not Ethan. He adopted every stubborn creature that came his way. “He's going to try to mooch off our plates.”

“I'll fix him his own plate.”

“That won't pacify him, but I'm game if you are.” He started down the trail. Susan took the spot next to him, with Chocolate padding confidently beside her.

They rode on a sun-dappled path, their horses moving at a relaxed pace. The sky was the color of a robin's egg, and the ground offered shades of brown and green. Most of the area was flat and clear, but in the distance, live oaks dotted the terrain like Texas-bred sentries. Farther out, a grouping of hills made a regal statement. Ethan loved this land. To him, it represented God's country, a place where the world stopped to sigh.

Rabbits darted past, making Chocolate perk his ears. But the dog didn't leave Susan's side.

They headed for the live oaks, where they decided to have their picnic.

The path they traveled narrowed, so Susan fell into step behind Ethan. He could hear Serene's footsteps as she picked her way through the brush.

Once they reached the oaks, the trail opened onto a grassy slope. “How's this?” Ethan asked, stopping beneath an enormous tree, where branches reached across the sky.

“It's perfect.”

After they dismounted, he tended to the horses and
she spread a blanket on the ground, smoothing it over the bumpy surface.

Chocolate danced in canine delight, sniffing the air in anticipation, waiting for the foodfest to begin.

Susan looked up at Ethan. “Did you raise him from a pup?”

He glanced at the dog and the silly beast had the gall to grin. “No. I've only had him about six months. He was homeless and hanging out behind Red, the Mexican restaurant in town, begging for burritos and what-not. The owner felt bad for him, but he was making a nuisance of himself, barking at the back door all the time. My girlfriend, Amber, was a waitress there, so she brought him to me.”

She patted the pooch's head. “And you had no choice but to keep him?”

“Amber wanted him, but Chocolate was too rambunctious around her son.”

She unpacked their lunch. “Your old girlfriend has a child?”

He nodded. “A two-year-old. Truthfully, I miss her little boy more than her. But she reunited with his father, so they're trying to make a stable home for him.” He stretched his legs and saw how frayed his jeans were. Susan's, he noticed, were brand spanking new. “It's what she wanted all along. I was her rebound, but I knew that from the beginning.”

“No love lost on your part?”

“No. How about you?”

“I've been in two serious relationships, but my career got in the way both times.” Her voice turned ana
lytical. “I have a difficult time balancing my work and my love life.”

Ethan thought about his mom, then quickly brushed her aside. He didn't want Susan to know that his mother had chosen her career over her family. Or that his dad had never gotten over her. “I'd like to have a wife and kids someday, but I don't let it consume me. I'm used to being single.”

“Me, too. But it gets lonely sometimes.”

“Yeah, but it's better than a crappy marriage.”

“Amen to that.” She fed the dog first, a lunch that he gobbled up in record time, nudging her for more. She obliged, then gave him an apple to play with while she and Ethan filled their paper plates with chicken, fruit and potato salad, keeping the cookies packed and out of Chocolate's reach.

All too soon, the dog got bored with the apple and begged off Susan's plate, just like Ethan knew he would. He'd been trying to break Chocolate of that habit, but he didn't have the heart to scold him. The mutt had forged a cozy spot for himself, resting his head in her lap.

“You're a bottomless pit.” She fed Chocolate more chicken, and he licked his chops.

“I can hardly blame him,” Ethan said. “This is good.”

“Thank you.” She smiled, making him envy the dog.

She looked pretty in the afternoon light, with her honey-colored hair and green eyes. Chic and sophisticated, even in jeans and boots and her lipstick wearing off.

He glanced at her mouth and wondered if she would let him kiss her when their date ended. Or would that be crossing the friendship line?

“Our timing is off,” he heard himself say.

“Why? Because I don't sleep around anymore?”

“I didn't mean it like that.” He removed bottled water from the saddlebag and took a swig. “I'm impressed with the way you grew up, but I miss you having a crush on me.”

She set her half-empty plate on the blanket. Chocolate was no longer interested in her food. He'd fallen asleep in her lap. “It wasn't a healthy crush. Nothing I did then was healthy.”

Ethan drank more water, but he wasn't able to cool his heels. “So now you're tempering your feelings for me?”

“I can't go back in time. I can't become the old Susan, the girl who acted out her pain.”

He longed to touch her, to glide his fingers along her jaw, to comfort the girl she used to be. “I don't want to go back in time, either. Can't we separate the past from the present? Start over somehow?”

“I don't know. Can we? I'll bet you haven't forgotten any of those rumors. I'll bet they're still occupying your mind.”

“Can you blame me?” He looked up and saw a hawk dive from a tree branch and sail into the air, like a red-tipped angel taking flight. “You were so sweet, so vulnerable, but you were wild, too. It drove me crazy.”

“I was trying to fill the void inside me. The emptiness that wouldn't go away.”

“I knew you were mixed-up, and I wanted to make everything better. But I didn't know how.”

She released a deep, emotional breath, stirring the dog, making him open his eyes for a second. “It wasn't your job to fix me.”

Maybe not, but he was paying the price now. She'd fixed herself, and he was left with nothing but his memories. “I wanted to pound the crap out of every boy who touched you,” he said. “But there were too many names being bandied around. I never knew what to believe.”

“I didn't have as many lovers as everyone said. The rumors got blown out of proportion.”

“I was so damn jealous, especially when I heard that you were helping some of those guys lose their virginity.”

A mild breeze rustled the leaves above their heads, intensifying the moment. He couldn't help it. He was still jealous, still primed for a war party. But he knew she wasn't going to name names.

“There was only one boy who was a virgin,” she finally said. “But at the time, so was I.”

Ethan frowned. “Then how did that rumor get started?”

“Because I pretended that I'd done it before. He was really drunk, so he didn't know the difference.” She bit the inside of her lip, as if the experience was still raw. “I knew he would talk about it afterward, and I wanted you to find out.”

A lump formed in his throat. “Why? So I'd say ‘to hell with it' and lose my virginity to you, too?”

She nodded. “It was the only thing I could think of to get your attention. Nothing else was working.”

“I'm sorry, Susan.”

“It wasn't your fault. It was me. I did it to myself.”

And she'd kept doing it, he thought. She'd kept flaunting other guys in front of him.

Silent, he finished his food and set his plate next to hers,
trying to maintain his composure, to ease the sudden tension, the confession in her eyes, the ache in his chest.

“Don't feel guilty, Ethan. Sleeping with that boy didn't change who I was. I'd already been messing around before I came to Red Rock.” She gnawed on the inside of her lip again. “Sneaking out of the house, drinking with my friends, learning how to give oral sex.”

“I wasn't running wild,” he admitted. “But I had a girlfriend before I met you, and we used to engage in some serious foreplay. We just didn't go all the way.”

She managed a smile. “And here I thought you were a Boy Scout. Proper Ethan.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, you were full of surprises, too. You hardly ever studied, but you got amazing grades. Like a computer nerd or something.”

“Being an honor-roll student was easy for me. But being smart wasn't what I was after. Not until I straightened up my life and went off to college.”

“Stanford,” he said, then let out a low whistle. “You can't beat that.”

“Ryan paid for it. I owe him my education.”

Ethan had attended Texas A&M, and he'd been strapped with student loans, debts he'd finally paid off. “I tried not to think about you over the years, but I always wondered how you were.”

She stroked the top of Chocolate's head, making the big dopey dog sigh in his sleep. “Me, too. Every so often, I'd ask Ryan about you. But I didn't want to overdo it.”

“And now here we are. On our first date.” He packed up the picnic supplies. “I guess it wasn't as casual as I promised.”

She looked around. “The atmosphere was casual.”

“But not the conversation.”

“Friends should be candid with each other. I'm glad we talked about it.”

He raised his eyebrows at her. “You wanna tell my libido that?”

She shrugged, laughed, made a silly face at him. “You'll get over it. Besides, abstinence makes the heart grow fonder.”

“That's absence, smarty.” And his heart was already fond of her. Or was that his hormones? At this point, he couldn't be sure.

She woke up the dog and they rode back to the hunting cabin, silence humming between them. Once they arrived, he unsaddled the horses and she offered to let him keep the leftovers, including the untouched cookies.

As she prepared to leave, he debated his options. He knew a kiss was out of the question, but he wasn't about to settle for a handshake.

He opted for a hug, taking an awkward step toward her, like a teenage boy who was about to trip over his own feet. When he took her in his arms, she put her head on his shoulder.

He buried his nose in her hair and inhaled the faded scent of her shampoo. It was lemon, just like when they were young.