Once Touched (16 page)

He nodded. His favorite part of the day had been the long trail ride. Everyone saddled up—even Quinn, with a lead rope attached to her pony. After the ride there'd been a feast delicious and big enough to send them all into a semi-comatose state, perfect for watching the game on TV. Good times.

“Yes, I do.”

“I'm so pleased you'll be joining us.”

Had he said that to Quinn? He'd been out of his mind to agree to such a thing. Those Thanksgivings represented tradition. Laughter and warmth. Sharing. “Thanks, Adele, but I'm not really into social events these days.”

The look she gave him made him feel about two feet tall. “I spoke with Cheryl today. I told her you'd be with us. It made her so happy. She's been terribly worried about you. Please do this for her. And for us.”

Two mothers ganging up on a body were impossible odds to beat. “Of course.”

She beamed infectiously. As annoyed as he was at being blatantly managed, he felt the corners of his mouth twitch. Quinn had learned her tricks from a master.

He wouldn't have thought it possible, but Adele's smile became even brighter when Daniel joined them.

After another round of human and canine introductions, Daniel said, “I didn't realize Quinn was planning on getting another dog. She's got her hands full with that bird. And now Tucker's sick.”

“Love can change a person's plans,” Adele said.

He offered Daniel the non-turtledove-and-sparkly-rainbow answer. “Bowie's owner is in the military. She adopted him so he wouldn't leave the area. It'll make it easier to reunite them.”

“Quinn's good when it comes to thinking about others,” Daniel said.

“Yes. Where she runs into difficulties is figuring out what she herself needs,” Adele said.

A hell of a conversation to be having with Quinn's parents. He wondered how fast Adele's smile would cool and how swiftly Daniel would boot him off the ranch if they knew that last night he'd been like some pimply adolescent with a rocket in his pocket for their only daughter, and a hair's breadth from showing her what
he
needed.

As for Quinn, he didn't see that she had any problem getting what she wanted and needed. As far as he could tell, she had everyone wrapped around her finger, and Josh right where she wanted him.

“Guess what, darling. Ethan's joining us for Thanksgiving.”

“You'd best get some riding in before then, son. I heard Pete's got you clearing the trails?”

“Yeah.”

“Your shoulder's doing okay?”

“It's still attached.” Though he was loath to admit it, the massage Quinn had given him hadn't only worked a miracle on his lower half. This morning he could shift and rotate his shoulder without coloring the air blue with his curses.

He hated thinking how much Josh was enjoying those talented hands.

“That's good. How about you take a break at around three o'clock and join me for a ride? I'm checking the water level in the ponds and tanks—the drought's making that more important than ever. And there's some land for sale that I want to look at, too. Adele and I have been talking with the owner about buying it. But I always say a person sees things differently from the back of a horse.”

“You sure you want the company?” Quinn was an impossible craving, a forbidden indulgence. He accepted that. But getting back in the saddle was something he could consider doing. He was fit enough now. Between the barn chores and the push-ups and planks he'd been doing in his cabin, a fair amount of his strength had returned. A ride on the trails crossing the ranch's rolling hills would allow him to shake off his fixation with Quinn, leaving nothing but the horse moving beneath him, the cool air rushing against his face, the wash of browns and greens coloring the distant mountains.

“Why not? You don't jabber.” A twinkle entered Daniel's eyes. “To tell you the truth, the real bonus is that if I lend you my gelding, I'll have an excuse to take Bilbao out. Ward gets to have way too much fun with him.”

This was a classic Knowles gesture of generosity, making it seem as if they were the ones receiving the kindness. Bilbao was a flashy three-year-old, but anyone who knew horses would give his eyeteeth to spend an afternoon on Kane's back.

“Glad to help out,” he said.

“We'll have to put Ethan on the payroll, Daniel.”

“Not necessary,” Ethan began, but Daniel spoke over him.

“Someone with your abilities would be a great addition to the ranch. But I expect you'll soon be back to wandering the world and sharing what you've seen with the rest of us.”

No, those days were over. His body might have begun healing, but he knew instinctively that no matter where he aimed his camera lens, all he would see through the viewfinder would be the faces of the soldiers who'd lost their lives.

I
T WAS
T
HANKSGIVING
Day and Quinn was not in a charitable mood. She was thankful, to be sure. Tucker had come home, his chestnut midsection bisected by a belly bandage that replaced the stent bandage he'd worn during his stay at the clinic to promote drainage and prevent infection, a common post-op danger. Not all vets would have gone to the trouble of inserting a stent, but Gary Cooney was the kind of vet who always went the extra mile for an animal, regardless of whether it was an expensive show horse or an old goat past breeding age. Thanks to his exceptional care, Tucker was doing as well as she could hope for a high-strung horse recovering from major abdominal surgery.

For years now Thanksgiving had been relegated to her least favorite holiday. Even Valentine's Day was better because at least she got to laugh at the gag gifts she and her brothers exchanged. Reid usually came up with some doozies, like ridiculously girly underwear. But there was nothing funny about Thanksgiving. Couldn't people find a way to give thanks without gorging themselves on gruesomely killed turkeys and geese?

To be honest, this year her sour mood wasn't due exclusively to the holiday. It was also linked to Ethan and Josh. Since the morning she'd called it quits with Josh, she'd begun to feel like she was back in the fifth grade and contagious with the grossest case of cooties ever. Ethan certainly acted that way. He basically pulled a disappearing act whenever she approached, only deigning to exchange a few terse words when others were around or when he was handing Bowie over for playtime with Sooner and Pete's cattle dogs.

His attitude stung. She'd thought they were becoming friends. She supposed she must have freaked him out when she gave him a massage. Had it been obvious that she liked the feel of his body beneath her hands far too much, more than she'd ever enjoyed touching a man? If so, he couldn't make it any clearer that the attraction was one-sided.

And Josh? Well, the weirdness continued there, too. He hadn't bothered to talk to her once since their last conversation. Not that he'd really been around to see, let alone talk to. Where once it had seemed that Josh was everywhere she went, these days a Bigfoot sighting was more common.

If there was a glimmer of brightness in the holiday, it was the outing on horseback. The hour-plus trail ride was the only part of the day she truly enjoyed. All available staff was invited. She refused to let the fact that this year the ride included Josh and Ethan dim her enjoyment at being out for a pleasure ride with her family and friends.

It was certainly not the moment to ask one man what the hell was wrong with him or quiz the other as to why he was so darned happy to have no future anything with her.

Not that she'd have succeeded. Ethan, on board Kane, was trotting at the front of the group of sixteen riders with Pete, Ward, and Tess. Only the presence of her mom riding by Ethan's side would have been a stronger deterrent. She felt self-conscious enough without having her family witness Ethan giving her the ice-cold shoulder.

Opting to ride along with Mel and Frank, a married couple who'd worked as ranch hands for years now, and just behind Jim and Josh, she at least solved the mystery of where Josh had been hieing off to. Anyone within earshot learned it. Not even the pounding of the horses' hooves, the jangle of bits, or the creak of leather could muffle the enthusiasm in Josh's voice.

“Those pancakes at the luncheonette? The finest, Jim. And they serve 'em right up until closing.”

“They do? Since when?” Jim asked.

“Well, let's put it this way. They do for me.” Josh made it sound like he'd obtained a standing reservation at the French Laundry. “And the day before yesterday? Apple cider donuts. Maebeth packed a box for me. I brought it back for Campbell and Patricia as a going-away present. Know what? They've invited me to visit the set of Campbell's next movie. Sweet, huh, Jimbo?”

She couldn't help but glance back. Jim looked appropriately envious, but since he was one of the kindest guys around, he said, “For sure, dude. And it sounds like you're getting treated like royalty by Maebeth.”

Expecting Josh to answer with his signature cocky grin, she was surprised when his face flamed beneath the brim of his hat. And his expression? He looked…
sheepish,
though she'd never seen a sheep's face turn bright red.

“Yeah, Maebeth's been real nice to me. She's coming today, you know.”

Quinn missed Jim's reply, for up ahead Ward and Pete had reined to a halt. The group of riders was in one of the meadows, this one roughly a hundred acres in size and presently empty of Angus cattle or Lincoln sheep to prevent overgrazing.

It must be time for the races.

The riders formed a loose circle around Ward. He was already speaking, and as she caught his words, she realized that he'd been explaining the origin of the races to Ethan, which had begun when she was twelve and riding Bandit, a sweetheart of a paint horse who'd taught her so much. Thirty years old this year, he was still just as bighearted and dependable, his job now to carry guests on trail rides.

“Since we're mostly wrangling cattle or leading trail rides, we don't often have the chance to test our horses against each other. Dad came up with the idea of holding a friendly competition once Quinn was big enough to have a fighting chance and not cry too much when we creamed her.”

Not waiting to see whether Ethan smirked in response to Ward's comment, she said, “Rewriting history much, big brother? I seem to remember you sulking like a baby the first time Bandit and I beat you by two lengths.”

“It was by a nose, brat.”

“Still feeling the sting, huh?”

With a shake of his head, he returned his attention to Ethan. “Excuse the interruption. My kid sister has so few chances to tout her accomplishments.” Ignoring her loud snort, Ward continued. “So Dad's picked this spot and is going to draw names at random for each heat. The race is straightforward. It starts over there by that outcrop.” He pointed to a rock formation a few hundred yards in the distance. “The finish line will be here. We've delegated Tess and Mia to officiate. Tess will start the riders off and Mia will call the winners at this end.”

It was a nice way to include the two in the event, Quinn thought, since her future sisters-in-law still persisted in their vow to never break out of a trot. She wondered why her dad and Ward hadn't found something for Ethan to do as well. He could run the stopwatch. Usually it was passed around randomly.

Shielded by the brim of her hat, she let her gaze travel over him. He must have done a bit of riding in the years since he'd left Acacia because he was handling Kane with ease. The large chestnut was tossing his head in excitement. All the horses were pumped up this afternoon, frisky and chomping at the bit. They knew this wasn't a typical workday outing.

She'd been surprised to see him on Kane. Her dad was funny about certain things. One, he was super-obsessed about his tractors. Two, he considered Kane, who'd been foaled on the ranch,
his
baby. Even she had trouble wheedling a ride on him. But Ethan had taken him out twice now. When she'd remarked on the fact, her dad had merely smiled and said, “Ethan does a real good job on him.”

Something was up, and it annoyed the heck out of her that she'd been left in the dark.

Unlike most of the men, Ethan was hatless and he'd shaved this morning—it was Thanksgiving after all. The dramatic lines of his face were on full display: the slash of his cheekbones, the dark ledge of his brows above his flint-gray eyes, the blade of his nose, the jut of his chin, the thin lips that looked too severe to smile, his cropped salt-and-pepper hair. Taken individually, they were just parts of his face. Together they formed a stark, uncompromising beauty.

As if he'd felt the weight of her gaze, Ethan turned his head. And she forgot how to breathe. When had he become the handsomest man she knew? On the heels of that terrifying thought, she realized that his mouth remained pressed in a stern line. No tiny upward hook at the corners of his mouth, no crinkle of crow's-feet by his eyes telegraphed his quiet amusement. She'd grown used to seeing the tug of a reluctant smile and a flash of something irresistible illuminate his gray eyes and soften his stoic demeanor.

Afraid of what he might see in her expression, a longing that left her confused and invited scores of remembered inadequacies, she looked away quickly, focusing on her father, who withdrew two small squares of paper from his breast pocket. Unfolding them, he said, “Looks like we'll be starting this year's races with some serious flash. Adele, you're up against Josh. Now remember, honey, he's just a rookie.”

Her mom was astride Forester, her dark bay gelding. As she gathered up her reins, she asked, “Shall I go easy on you, Josh?”

“Heck, no. Where would the fun be in that?” Josh replied.

Whoops and laughter erupted, everyone quickly getting into the spirit of the races. With wide grins on their faces, the two contestants trotted off with Tess, who was riding her favorite horse, Brocco.

Quinn had seen enough of Waylon in action to know that he was a fine horse, with some serious go in him. He topped Forester by a couple of hands, and he was only six years to Forester's twelve.

No matter. Adele and Forester smoked the Texan duo.

Quinn could tell by the almost comical expression on Josh's face when Waylon crossed the finish line a generous length behind Forester that he hadn't been expecting a woman old enough to be his mother to leave him in the dust.

Perhaps he should have checked out whose name was on the plaques and trophies in the glass case in the tack room. Adele Evers had been a champion rider and barrel racer.

Though everyone else at Silver Creek knew exactly what class of competitor she was, they all clapped loudly, and Quinn yelled, “Way to go, Mom!” after she had circled back and was trotting toward them.

“Oh, that was fun! Forester does love to run. And since I have to head back to the house to get the turkey in the oven, I thought I'd give him a chance.” She leaned down and patted him on his arched neck. “No hard feelings, Josh?”

He swept off his hat in a gallant gesture. “No, ma'am. But I'd like to challenge you to a rematch real soon.”

Her mother laughed. “Any day you choose.” With a wave, she urged Forester into an easy lope and headed back to the ranch.

Ward and Reid's were the next names in the draw. Some serious trash talk was immediately exchanged. She could even hear them as they headed to where Tess was waiting to start the race.

Her brothers thundered toward them neck and neck. Then Reid leaned just a little more forward over his gelding, and Sirrus, his nose stretched forward, inched past Ward's black gelding.

“And it's Reid and Sirrus for the win!” Mia called, not even attempting to hide her elation.

When her brothers rejoined them, Ward was subjected to a round of good-natured ribbing.

Holding his gloved hand up, he said, “No offense, Mia, but maybe you should stick to judging wines.”

Formerly shy Mia merely wrinkled her nose. “Or maybe you should just gallop faster next time, Ward.”

“Ooh, burn,” Quinn said gleefully.

Reid guided Sirrus over to Mia. Wrapping an arm around her, he leaned in for a kiss.

Ward made an exasperated noise. “Right, do we need any clearer evidence that the judge's vision is flawed? Look at that ugly mug she's kissing.” He shook his head in mock despair.

“Over at the vineyard that's what we call sour grapes, dude,” Reid replied. “Why don't you go keep Tess company so she can soothe your wounded pride?”

Quinn was still grinning when her father spoke. “Time for the next draw. In this heat we have Quinn up against Ethan.”

“What? But Dad, he can't—” She swallowed her objection at the stone-cold look Ethan shot her.

“Ethan can't what, Quinn?” her dad asked.