Return to the Black Hills (13 page)

The day had been a long one. He’d turned in early and went right to sleep. Unfortunately, something woke him. A dream. A memory. A deep, sad sigh that was probably his own.

He’d gotten out of bed and stepped to the window, in need of fresh air. He missed his ranch, he realized. This place offered wide-open spaces; they simply weren’t
his
wide-open spaces.

From his window, he’d spotted the fire, glowing like the friendly inviting beer sign above the door of his favorite local bar. He missed drinking, too. Not the hangovers. Not the blank spots in his memory. Not the gut-wrenching fear of not knowing how he’d made it home. But he longed for the comforting distraction of other voices, people bemoaning every aspect of their lives in detail that usually shocked him. He even missed the smoke and beer smells that started out slightly nauseating but quickly became familiar and comforting.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he’d grabbed his jacket, donning the moccasins Kat and the boys had given him a couple of Christmases ago. And here he was. And it was too late to back out. “I dozed off after dinner. What did I miss?”

“Campfire talk is fluid,” Matthew said. “And like smoke, it disappears into the night sky never to be seen—or mentioned—again.”

Buck wondered if that was possible. Maybe. He doubted it. But what did he have to lose?

“What we call our Fire Starter question for the evening is twofold. First, what is your most joyful memory of Christmas? Second, what holiday memory is the one you’d most like to forget?”

Buck made a soft harrumph. “What if they’re one and the same?”

Matthew nodded wisely. “We get that a lot.”

Buck waited for his turn, not completely certain he’d have the guts to say anything. Some of the shared memories were tragic, some poignant and filled with love. His was somewhere in the middle. It would probably sound foolish to the rest of the group, but when the stranger beside him finished speaking, Buck cleared his throat and spoke.

“For my ninth birthday, I wrote a letter to Santa asking for a horse. I was probably too old to believe in Santa, but my mother was a kind, quiet woman who did her best to make us believe in things we couldn’t see—Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, hobgoblins. Even God.”

There was a soft murmur from the others. It wasn’t his intention to cast aspersions on anyone’s beliefs. But what happened that night pretty much killed any trust in anything he couldn’t hold concretely in his hand.

“I didn’t get a horse. That wasn’t a big surprise, actually. Times were tough. My dad worked construction, and this was in South Dakota. If you didn’t have a shell up by the first of November, you could kiss any steady work goodbye. I seem to remember we got an early snow that year. Dad did his best, but times were lean. But,” he said, recalling this story was also supposed to be a happy memory, “I did receive a puppy in my stockin’ on Christmas morning.”

“Oh,” several of the female members of the group cried in unison. “How sweet!”

“A wiggly, long-tongue homely stray that
Santa
must have found wandering the streets. I called him Riley—after that TV show
The Life of Riley.
He was street-smart and hungry, but he wasn’t mean. You could tell that just by looking in his eyes.”

Buck could still see that dumb dog plain as day. He’d had dozens of dogs since then. Ranch dogs came and went. He fed ’em, got ’em fixed, and gave ’em all the shots they needed. But he never felt the same way about any of them as he did toward Riley.

“What happened?” someone asked.

“I had the best day of my young life. The sun came out and the air warmed almost as if God was smiling on us. My brothers and I played outside all day while Mother cooked and baked. Dad went off for some visitin’, but he promised to come home early for our feast.”

Buck paused. His poor mother. She tried. All of her life, she tried. “Dad wasn’t a mean man—unless he got some drink in him,” he said, slowly.

He looked around and saw the kind of silent acknowledgments he’d found in AA. “He didn’t show up for dinner, but we ate and we pretended everything was all right. My dog stayed under my chair the whole time.” He grinned. “’Cause like any kid, I snuck pieces of turkey to him.”

He took a deep breath and let it out. “To make a long story short, we boys all slept in the same bed. I was usually in the middle, but I made my brother change places with me so I could keep my hand on my dog.”

He rolled his shoulders. “At some point, I musta let go. Riley went into the kitchen and got up on the table and ate my father’s dinner. Every bite. Including half a mincemeat pie. Dad’s favorite.”

A hushed murmur could be heard over the soft hiss of the fake fire. “What did he do when he got back?” a brave soul asked.

Buck held up his hand to reassure them. “He didn’t kill the dog, if that’s what you’re thinking. But he was mad, and like I said, he had a temper when he’d been drinking. He yanked me out of bed and made me take the dog outside. He found a long rope and he watched while I tied Riley to a tree, then he sent me inside.”

Buck could feel his chest start to tighten. He stared into the red-orange flow and said what needed to be said. “I know this doesn’t seem possible, but I remember it clearly. I was barefoot when I tied that rope. I was cryin’, of course, and Riley licked my face. But sometime in the night, the warmest Christmas on record turned cold. A front dropped in from Canada. We figure Riley was thirsty from all that pie he ate. His rope was long enough to reach the pond. He must have broken through the ice. He managed to get out, but he was wet, and when the temperature dropped, he froze. He wasn’t made for the cold, like some Eskimo dog. He was just a mutt. And the best Christmas ever turned into the worst. I never forgave my dad. But worse, I don’t think he ever forgave himself.”

“He said there were no visible breaks, but a couple of the tendons were extremely inflamed. There could be a tear. He wants to watch it closely over the next couple of weeks.” He also said if she didn’t postpone her training, she could wind up with permanent damage. “No running?”

Jessie balanced on her good foot and tapped the rubber tips of her crutches together. “Not for a while. And I’m not supposed to drive a stick, either.”

“No Yota?” Remy exclaimed. “Bummer.”

Jessie shrugged as they started for the door. “I guess it’s not a huge deal. You’re here and you seem to have connected well with Shiloh. Apparently, I’m redundant.”

She did her best not to sound jealous, but her sister gave her a look. “She’s a good kid. I like her. Yesterday just sorta happened.”

“Yeah. I know. It’s okay. I feel a bit useless at the moment. Can’t work out. Can’t drive. You know me—a life of leisure is my idea of hell.”

Remy didn’t say anything. In fact, she was silent the entire time it took them to walk to the Land Cruiser. Jessie waited until they were both seated before she asked, “What’s up? You’re too quiet. Did you hear from the Bullies?”

“Yes, but that’s not the problem.”

“So…what is?”

“Cade walked Shiloh to the car this morning and he mentioned that his sister was looking for help.”

“What kind of help?”

“Her husband is opening a new dental clinic. It was supposed to be up and running a few months ago, but I guess his license got hung up or something. I don’t know, but he’s in a pinch right now, and Cade thought I might be interested.”

“Are you?”

Remy put the key in the ignition but didn’t turn it. “Yeah. Why not? I know you already paid the rent for the whole summer, but we still need groceries and gas. Bringing in a regular paycheck would be my contribution. Do you have a problem with that?”

“What about Shiloh?”

Remy smiled eagerly. “I could drop her at the bus stop on my way to work and you could pick her up in the afternoon. I haven’t discussed it with Cade, but I’m sure if he has a car with an automatic transmission, he’d let you use it.”

She wants me to ask Cade to borrow his car? After the way I ambushed him in the pool yesterday?

Not only had she borrowed Remy’s bikini instead of wearing her own sleeveless neoprene body suit, she’d shown him her scars then kissed him. Passionately.

Technically, he’d kissed her first, but she’d taken it to the next level. And she’d liked it. Probably too much. She’d spent the rest of the day and most of the night worrying that she’d inadvertently become the kind of woman who didn’t feel complete unless she had some man following after her like a dog in heat. In other words, her mother.

“Remy, do you think Mom was ever happy? I mean, really, truly happy?”

Remy’s jaw gaped in a way that would have made their mother shake her head in dismay. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I just wondered. We haven’t exactly talked about what happened.”

Remy fastened her seat belt, then started the car. “Well, whose fault is that?”

“I’m asking now. So, answer my question.”

Remy turned to look over her shoulder as she backed up, slowly and carefully. She might get lost easily, but she was a very cautious driver. Jessie had to give her that.

“I can’t. No one can. You know as well as anyone that Mama had her highs and lows. She’d be on top of the world when she first fell for a new beau. Things would be good for a few months, a year, maybe. Then…she’d lose interest. Or something he did would become an unbearable problem. Or—” she lowered her voice in a way that told Jessie how much it pained her to mention the fact they both knew “—the man’s wife would find out and the drama would begin.”

Jessie never understood why their mother seemed to favor married men, but unfaithful rogues were the sort she picked. All too often.

They drove in silence for a long while, but about a mile from the intersection that would take them back to the ranch, Remy pulled over. “Tell me what you want me to do,” she said, shifting in her seat to face Jessie. “If you need my help getting around or you don’t think I should take this job, say so. Otherwise, I’d like to buzz over to Sentinel Pass now and talk to Jack.”

What could she say?
No. Don’t leave me alone all day with our sexy, single landlord—the guy I’ve been fantasizing about since day one. Because if you’re not there to chaperone, I might start something for the simple reason that it would feel good. And I’m bored.
And if that didn’t sound like something their mother would do, Jessie didn’t know what did.

“Fine. Go get a job.”

Remy snorted. “On that positive note…I think I will.” She stomped on the clutch but didn’t shift into gear straight off. “Unless you’re in pain. Is that why you’re so grouchy?”

“I’m not in pain.”

“Oh. So, you’re just grouchy because your middle name is Oscar.”

Jessie stuck out her tongue, but she smiled, too. Remy had always been able to cajole her out of a dark and stormy mood—even when Jessie was in the hospital and Remy could speak to her only on the phone.

She tested the give and take of her calf muscles while she rang the bell. Still stiff.

Cade answered the door, his surprise obvious. His jeans were dusty and his light blue denim shirt had a couple of suspicious stains on it. Blood? “Jessie. Hi. You’re back. I just got off the phone with Kat. She said Remy’s going to work for Jack. Wow. That was fast.”

“Yeah, I know. Can I come in?”

“Of course. Sorry. I got called out early this morning to help deliver a foal. There’s a fresh pot of coffee brewing, if you’re interested.”

“Sounds good. Thanks.”

He opened the door and stepped back to give her room to enter. “Where are your sticks?”

“At the house. I’m starting to wean myself off. A few minutes here. A few more tomorrow.”

“That must mean your ankle isn’t broken. I’m glad.”

From the front door to the kitchen island was probably no farther than the distance from her parking spot to her apartment door, but she was visibly limping by the time she sat. She stealthily dabbed at a trace of sweat above her upper lip when Cade’s back was turned.

“So, when’s Remy going to start at Jack’s new office?”

“Tomorrow. We were just there. It looks like the makings of a reality TV show—a combination of
Hoarders
and
Extreme Makeover.
”

His low rumble of laughter did very pleasant things to her girl parts. Very pleasant. And watching him move around the kitchen with surprising grace for a guy in cowboy boots was a bonus. The man did have a great butt.

He set a big ceramic mug in front of her. “Poor Kat has been spread too thin trying to do everything.”

She picked up the cup but didn’t drink from it right away. “You do realize Remy will need to use my car to drive to Sentinel Pass every day, right? Jack’s flexible about what time she gets there, so she figures she can drop Shiloh at the bus stop. But I’ll have to borrow a car in the afternoon to pick Shiloh up.”

He carried his mug to the stool beside hers. “No problem. Buck’s truck is in the garage.”

“Is it an automatic, I hope?”

He leaned around her stool to look at her foot. “Is a clutch off-limits?”

She nodded.

“Well, we’re in luck. Buck’s S-10 is a gutless gas hog, but it does have an automatic transmission. The keys are by the back door. It’s all yours.”

She blew on the steaming, fragrant brew. “Great. Thanks. I told Remy I’d drive Shiloh tomorrow because Rem wants to get an early start. Is that okay?”

“Of course. Is that the only subject you’re here to talk to me about?”

Her heart did its little jumpy thing that made her throat tighten. “What else?”

He turned so his knees touched her stool.

“I thought you might be mad at me.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Because I didn’t call you last night. I picked up the phone a couple of times, but I wasn’t sure what to say.”

Jessie knew the smart thing would be to talk this out. Define exactly what he expected to get from a short-term, here-today, gone-tomorrow relationship. But she was more of an action kind of girl. A bored action kind of girl.

She pushed her palms against the counter to make her stool swivel. His knees bracketed hers. “I could pretend to be mad, so we could kiss and make up. Or…” she said, trying to keep from grinning like a fool, “we could skip the mad part and try that kissing thing again. I really liked it.”

She also really liked him. How much or for how long was still under debate, but enough to risk getting shot down if he wasn’t in the market. Yesterday’s kiss had implied he might be, but she knew all about morning-after regrets—her mother had been famous for them.

He carefully set aside his cup then reached for the arms of her stool to haul himself closer. This gave him a slight height advantage, but she didn’t mind. She tilted her head up and waited.

She was expecting a polite, let’s-take-things-slow approach. Wrong. Cade made it abundantly clear that he knew what he wanted—and he wanted her.

Not surprising, he tasted like hot coffee. She knew because his tongue went straight for all of her trigger points that made other parts of her body stir to life. How long had it been since she’d been kissed like this?

Forever,
a seldom heard from portion of her mind answered, urging her to gobble up as much of this wonderful sensation as she could get. No questions asked.

She reached under his arms to splay her hands across the broad width of his back. The texture of his heavy cotton work shirt felt real and substantial. She liked that, too. And his muscles were bunched and coiled from keeping his upper body poised above her.

She wasn’t ready for him to stop, but he did. He pulled back enough to look into her eyes. “I sat with a bunch of actors at Kat’s wedding. They were all talking about motivation. I spent a lot of last night wondering how far you plan to take this and why.”

“Why?” she repeated, genuinely baffled. “There has to be a reason.”

He returned to his chair. “There usually is.”

“You’re looking for something deeper than ‘it feels good,’ I take it.”

He threw out his hands and nodded. “You told me yesterday that you’re not easy. So, I have to assume you don’t sleep around or have brief, meaningless affairs with men you barely know. If you’re interested in taking what we both have to admit is some pretty strong sexual attraction any further, I need to know what’s in it for you.”

She sat back, drumming her fingers on the arm of her chair where Cade’s hands had been a moment earlier. “Well, if you must know,” she said, hoping she wasn’t going to regret being completely honest, “yesterday in the pool was a test. I’ve met men who thought they were attracted to me, but when they saw the whole me, the scarred me, they changed their minds.”

His look turned intense but he let her continue without interrupting.

“They didn’t always come right out and say they were repulsed, but they often didn’t stick around long after they found out, either. So, over the years, I’ve developed what you might call a litmus test for losers.”

He silently repeated the phrase. “Did I pass or fail?”

She took a big breath. “C-plus, maybe. We shared a nice kiss, there was a little circuitous groping, you didn’t gag or anything. But—” she paused for effect “—you took off in a hurry and you didn’t call last night.”

He made a snarling sound. “I knew you were mad.”

She reached out and brushed the backs of her fingers across his cheek. He hadn’t shaved that morning. She found the slightly unkempt look very sexy. “I’m not mad. I’m not even hurt. A kiss is a kiss. And you’re right about the mutual sizzle here. I feel it, too. But I understand completely if you’re not interested in taking things further. Really. I do.”

He gave her a look she’d never seen before. His brow crinkled in a serious scowl and his eyes narrowed to an intense squint. “That might well be the most insulting thing anyone has ever said to me. And believe me, when you grow up with a drunk in the house, there’s no limit to the depth and breadth of the insults.”

She blinked. “What part of what I said was insulting?”

“That wasn’t just a kiss. It was a step. If the road feels right and you get a sense from the other person that you’re moving in the proper direction, you take another step. And another. But—” he raised his hand to keep her from interrupting “—one person or the other might need to pause a moment between steps to sort out all the other things in his life. Or her life,” he added pointedly.

She had been the one to bring up Remy and Shiloh.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t compare you to anyone.”

He relaxed visibly. “No more grading on the curve?”

She’d been disappointed by men a great many times in the past. Was he really that different from the men who’d tried to get past her scars and couldn’t? They might be able to block out the distraction long enough to have sex with her, but eventually they’d go searching for someone whole.

“I’ll try.”

“Good.”

They each reached for their mugs at the same time. Jessie was pretty sure that meant they were done kissing for the moment. Unfortunately.

“Any news from Hank?”

She swallowed fast. She’d forgotten that she planned to bring Cade up to date. “The lab thinks the slippery stuff on the rope was petroleum jelly. Not traceable, but also not the act of some vandal tossing a soft drink at the tower.”

“Also not the casual sort of thing you could have done without anyone noticing if
you
were trying to sabotage the thing yourself,” he said, proving how in tune he was to her thought process.

“Exactly.”

“Somebody needs to find that Zane guy.”

“I agree. It’s killing me not to be able to hop in Yota and start a grid search.” She made a face. “I still haven’t been able to come up with a single plausible reason why he’d do that to me, but he’s the only one who could have.”

“You’d know his bike if you saw it?”

She sat up a little straighter. “Of course. What are you thinking?”

He stood and held out his hand. “I was planning to take the afternoon off. How ’bout I give you a little tour of the Black Hills? Remy will pick up Shiloh, right?”

She stood, wincing slightly from the pins-and-needles sensation in her sore foot. Her circulation wasn’t back to normal yet. “Uh-huh. She wants to explain about her new job so Shiloh doesn’t get her feelings hurt.”

“That’s very nice of her. I appreciate that. But that means we have an entire afternoon. Are you game?”

Was she ever not game? “Let’s do it.”