One Wild Cowboy (17 page)

“Isn't that what you're doing now?”

Emily fell abruptly silent.

She struggled to explain how something that had started out so simply—as a reckless and ill-thought-out ruse to avoid some matchmaking—had evolved into something so passionate and meaningful—and ultimately devastating, as well. “We had an agreement—” Emily struggled not to cry “—that we wouldn't try to change each other. The way I always tried to change the guys I dated. Dylan didn't want to be another fixer-upper for me.

“But did that also mean we shouldn't try on our own to change for the better?” She wondered fervently. “Because I thought that's what people in love did! I thought just being together made them better people. And that implies change, doesn't it?”

“Usually, unless the two people involved are absolutely perfect individuals to begin with,” her mother replied. “And personally, I can't think of a single instance where that has happened.”

“So he
is
being unreasonable!” Emily crowed, more hurt and angry than ever.

Greta released a gusty breath. “Look, Emily, I know you and your brothers are all grown. And I really do try and stay out of your love lives as much as possible.”

Emily couldn't help it—she laughed out loud.
“Really?”
she echoed, reacting to the audacity. “Because, several weeks ago I heard you were trying to set me up with some mystery guy that you thought would be just perfect for me.”

Greta looked chagrined they were suddenly back to that. “Your brothers told you,” she murmured, actually blushing.

Emily threw up her hands in exasperation. “They're my sibs! Of course they warned me!” She aimed a censuring finger her mother's way. “The only one who didn't tell me about The Guy Who Might Be The One For Me was you.
You
backed off before ever uttering his name!”

Greta replaced the top on her ice cream. “There was a reason for that,” she said, rising to her feet.

“And it was?” Emily stood, too.

The self-conscious pink in her mother's cheeks deepened. She cleared her throat as if making a grand announcement. “You were already kissing him at the time.” Greta paused to let the weight of her words sink in. “Frankly, your father and I concluded we didn't
need
to do anything else to get you to give the guy a second look.”

Emily's mouth dropped open. “You really wanted me to be with Dylan?”

Her mother was firm. “We really did.”

Wow. And Wow again.
“And now?” Emily ventured at last.

Greta grabbed her purse. “Honey, that's up to you. We'll back you in whatever you decide.” She resacked her halffinished pint and headed for the door.

A still-reeling Emily followed close behind, aware for the first time in hours her heart held a smidgen of hope. “But…”

Her mother turned before going out the door. “Nope. No more advice,” she reiterated firmly, looking Emily straight in the eye. The air reverberated with maternal and familial love.
“Because the wisdom you need—” Greta took Emily's hand and placed it over her daughter's heart “—is already
right in here.
”

 

E
MILY TOOK
her mother's advice and spent the next week searching her soul for the answers. Her chance to put her feelings to the test came a few days after that, when she met Dylan at a private mustang preserve 130 miles from the Last Chance Ranch.

By the time she arrived, ready to witness the wild horses' first big test, he was already there, unloading the three mustangs and his own gelding from the four-horse trailer. The youngest two were outfitted with reins and lead lines; the older two horses were saddled up.

Emily got out of the Circle M pickup truck she had borrowed from her father and walked over to join the group. In the distance, they could see the resident herd of mustangs, grazing sedately in the 100-acre preserve.

But it was the man next to her that held her heart captive.

It had only been a week and a half, yet as Emily looked into those familiar golden-brown eyes, it felt so much longer. Too long.

She swallowed, trying not to notice how handsome he looked, with his hat tugged low over his brow, a new haircut and a fresh shave. Or how good he smelled, like sandalwood and leather and soap.

“Tell me again how this is going to work,” Emily said.

His eyes were alight with kindness and another emotion she couldn't identify. “We're going to lead the horses a little closer, and then dismount and let the mustangs go.” He flexed his broad shoulders lazily. “See what they do, given the choice.”

“Well, of course they're going to race off to be with the other mustangs,” Emily said in frustration. Horses were herd
animals, after all. Unlike humans, they always chose to be with their kind over being alone.

He gave her a brief, officious look. “I reckon that's so.”

Emily's anxiety rose. “It doesn't bother you?”

Dylan adjusted the stirrups on Ginger's saddle. “If they've bonded, the way we think they have, and become part of the Last Chance Ranch family, they won't stay away from us for very long,” he explained.

“And if they haven't?”

Dylan offered Emily a hand up into Ginger's saddle. As soon as she was situated, he climbed onto Hercules's back. “Then they'll likely never make reliable domesticated riding horses.” He frowned. “They'll always be looking to run off, first chance they get, and they wouldn't be suitable for the boys ranch.”

He reined in Salt and Pepper, and they headed off at an easy canter. They stopped again, atop the hill overlooking the pasture. Ginger was already prancing around in excitement. Salt and Pepper followed suit. Only Hercules, Dylan's welltrained gelding, remained calm and almost uninterested.

Dylan climbed down and tied his horse to a tree.

Emily dismounted, too. Together, they removed Ginger's saddle, all three mustangs' bridles and bits and stepped away.

The moment Ginger realized she was free, she turned back, gave them one last look, then reared around and took off. Salt and Pepper followed her, both going at top speed, too.

Emily stood, boots planted firmly in the grass, arms folded in front of her, watching. Would they stay or come back? she wondered, her heart pounding.

Within her, there was so much sadness and disappointment. She knew now it was foolish, but she wished Dylan had given her the slightest sign. She'd really thought she and Dylan were going to be the ones riding off into the sunset together, that
they'd spend the rest of their lives training and caring for mustangs in need of a good home.

Instead, here they were, acting as if they'd never been anything more than the most casual of friends. Acting as if their lovemaking…the long intimate talks…the joy they'd felt when together…hadn't mattered.

Here they were, about to say a final goodbye to each other, too, as they watched the three mustangs join the herd—without a thought as to the possibilities they were leaving behind. Tears blurring her eyes, unable to stand seeing any more, she turned and began walking away.

“Emily,” Dylan rasped.

Emily could hear him behind her, gaining ground.

She rushed on, feeling as if her heart was breaking. What had made her think she could handle any of this, she wondered, as she dabbed at the moisture flooding her eyes.

She wasn't strong enough to love and let go.

She didn't want to forge on alone.

Yet that was the only choice she had.

“Emily!” Dylan caught her by the shoulders and spun her around to face him.

Fifty yards away, Hercules chewed grass sedately. As if all was right with the world…

“What?” Emily snapped.

Dylan looked just as impatient. “Why are you crying?”

Emily sniffed. She'd never thought Dylan insensitive—until now. “Why aren't
you?
”

He seemed puzzled. “We don't know yet what they're going to do.”

Emily cast a look at the mustangs they'd just let go—now romping with the herd of wild horses. “I think it's pretty clear.” They were leaving her, just as Dylan had left her.

He frowned, nowhere near ready to give up. “They're exploring their options.”

Emily harrumphed. That sounded like a line and a half!

Dylan surprised her by saying, “Kind of like you and that long line of guys you were interviewing at the café the other day?”

Was the rough note in his voice possessiveness? Emily tensed and folded her arms in front of her. “How did you know about that?”

Dylan's eyes darkened. “Andrew might have mentioned it.”

The silence strung out between them.

“So I guess you're back to dating,” he said deferentially.

Emily adopted his businesslike attitude. “I'm back to saving my café. I've decided to respond to customer demand and expand.”

His face relaxed and he moved closer still. “The tables outside aren't enough?”

Emily basked in his nearness. “No.” She pressed her lips together. “And as we've already proved, they aren't available in inclement weather, either. I've applied for permits to put in an elevator and make my apartment over the shop into a second dining area and a separate party room.” She smiled in triumph. “It looks like I'm going to get it, too.”

He stroked his jaw. “So the guys…”

“Were all volunteering to help me in one way or another. Construction will start right away. I'm going to pay them in meal vouchers.”

“That's a great idea.”

“Thanks,” she said.

He sobered, every inch of him resolute male. “Where are you going to live in the meantime?”

Finally, a problem she hadn't had time to solve. Emily bit her lip. “I don't know yet. Everyone in the family has offered to put me up for the duration, until I can afford another place, but…”

“Too much interference?” he guessed.

“Too many questions I don't want to answer.”
Don't know how to answer.

He took her hand in his and squeezed it tightly. “If you're looking for a roommate—” he looked her right in the eye “—I volunteer my place.”

 

T
HIS WAS WHAT
she wanted, Emily thought. And yet… She put up a palm to keep him from coming any nearer. “I can't go back to that, Dylan. To thinking only about the moment we're in, never knowing what tomorrow is going to bring.” She cleared her throat. “Freedom is important, but…”

He came closer anyway, wrapping an arm about her waist. When she would have drawn away, he held fast. “You want more than that.” His voice was a sexy rumble in his chest.

Emily drew a stabilizing breath and forced herself to be completely honest. “I need more than that, Dylan. I need to belong with someone, not just for right now, but for the rest of our lives.” Trying not to notice how warm and solid and right he felt, she splayed her hands across his chest. Her voice trembled as she admitted, “I need permanence and security and family.”

“Suppose I could give you that happily-ever-after?” he propositioned huskily.

She blinked back a mist of emotion, and reminded him, “You don't do family drama, remember?”

“I didn't used to—until I hooked up with you.”

Ignoring the sudden wobbliness of her knees, Emily tried to figure out where this was going. “What are you talking about?” she asked, acknowledging the sudden reckless beat of her heart.

He tightened his grip on her, and said thoughtfully, “I had a talk with your dad.”

“I know. You turned down his offer to go into business together.”

“Not that conversation.” His lips curved into a sexy smile. “Another one,” he told her softly, gazing into her eyes. “I spoke to him yesterday and asked his permission.”

A shiver swept through her. Aware how close she was to breathlessly surrendering to Dylan on any terms, she drew back and regarded him sternly. “This isn't funny.”

“It's not supposed to be.” He continued to search her face. “It's supposed to be romantic.” He let the words sink in, then flashed the impish grin she loved so much. “And by the way?” he explained. “Your dad said okay.” Her parents
had
always wanted her to be happy. “You seem surprised by that,” she noted, coming closer once again.

Sorrow mingled with joy on his handsome face. “I wasn't sure your family would think I was good enough for you.” He swallowed, then began to relax. “Apparently, I am.”

And suddenly, Emily and Dylan were right back where they had started. With her family calling the shots—or trying to—where her love life was concerned.

Tears of exasperation blurred her vision. She knew that if she and Dylan were ever to be happy, there were a few things they had to clear up first.

She stepped back, throwing up her hands in aggravation. “What is it with me that I keep getting these half measures?”

Dylan blinked. Apparently, she thought temperamentally,
this
hadn't been in his plan. “What's
half measure
about me asking your father for your hand in marriage?” he demanded right back.

No longer sure who was taming who, or even who
should
be taming who, she retorted, “Gee, Dylan, I don't know. Maybe the fact that I kind of like to make those types of great big life-altering decisions for myself?”

Dylan narrowed his eyes. “You want me to ask you first?”

“For heaven's sake! Yes, I want you to ask me and not anyone else!” Emily blurted out her feelings before she could stop herself.

With a grin as wide as Texas, and a sparkle in his eyes, Dylan got down on his knees. He swept off his hat, set it against his chest and tilted his face up to hers. He was, at that moment, the epitome of masculine sexiness.