Riding the Line (12 page)
He nuzzled her neck, whispered nonsense into her ear and gathered her close in his arms. This time Robyn made no effort to move away. She didn’t think she had the ability but she sure wasn’t going to tell Dakota that and inflate his ego even more.
Dakota smiled as they approached the laundromat, relieved to see it was still open. Inside, the driers had all stopped and the space was silent apart from the gentle snores of the assistant in her back room. He got a couple of baskets and handed one to Robyn.
‘Put the stufffrom the drier in there and bring it to the folding table.’
‘God, you sound just like my mother.’
Despite Robyn’s tone, Dakota continued to smile at her. He’d just had the best sex of his life and nothing, not even Ms Grouchy Pants, was going to spoil it. He emptied the contents of the drier into his basket and headed for the table. His body still hummed with satisfaction and his mind was already anticipating their next fuck.
‘So what am I supposed to do with this stuff?’
‘Fold it.’ He gave her a reproving glance as she pouted at him. ‘Jeez, Robyn, it’s not difficult.’
He started on a T-shirt, folding it as quickly as he could. Robyn watched him work, a sock dangling in her hand.
‘You’re good at this. How come? Didn’t your mom do it for you?’
‘My mom was sick a lot. I learnt to help out.’
‘Too sick to do laundry?’
‘Too sick to do much at all. And after my mom remarried, I had two half-sisters to help take care of as well.’
His hand tightened on the shirt, making the creases worse. He tried to smooth them out, refolded the whole thing with painstaking care.
‘Did she drink?’
His head snapped up to meet her gaze. ‘Hell, no.’
Robyn shrugged. ‘My mom did. I just wondered if that was what all moms do.’
‘Your mom drank so much she couldn’t take care of you?’
‘Sometimes. Or she took too many pills and we couldn’t wake her up.’ Her smile was unconvincing. ‘I gave up asking her for stuffwhen I was about ten. I asked one of the housekeepers instead.’
A pang of sympathy shot through him. What a way to grow up. At least his mom had tried to be there for him; at least she’d gotten him away from his biological father. He studied the shirt he’d just folded, found himself speaking before he knew it.
‘My mom tried to kill herself when she lived with my real dad. She’d found out she had multiple sclerosis and she knew Beau wouldn’t take that too well. He didn’t like imperfections in his women. When she told him, he slapped her around a bit until I tried to pull him away from her.’ He swallowed hard. ‘Then he went for me too.’
‘Holy shit! What did she do then?’
‘She got me away from him and locked us in the bathroom.’ It was his turn to shrug. ‘Then she slit her wrists in the bathtub. Made one hell of a mess.’
‘That’s awful. Who found her?’
‘I was right there with her, remember? I had a front-row seat. Luckily I knew how to call 911.’
‘Shit, Dakota . . .’
He managed a smile. ‘Yeah, I was seven at the time so it’s kind of stayed with me. The best thing about it was that it finally made her decide to leave the bastard and take me with her.’
‘And she’s OK now?’
With a sense of shock he refocused on her concerned face. He’d just told a woman he hardly knew more about himself than his half-brothers had probably figured out. ‘She’s great. Her MS is in remission at the moment, so she’s doing fine.’
He returned to folding the laundry as if his life depended on it. After his mom’s suicide attempt, he’d spent years worrying she’d do it again, that it was his fault and that he didn’t even know what he’d done to make her so desperate to leave him. Of course, he’d tried to make it up to her by being the most perfect kid in America, not that she’d seemed to notice.
‘What the fuck?’ Robyn hissed.
He looked up, focused on the doll-sized cardigan she thrust right in front of his face. ‘What is it? Did we get someone else’s laundry?’
‘No, it’s my cashmere cardigan!’
He stared at the shrunken garment, felt the corner of his mouth kick up as he fought a smile. That was life for you: one moment full of pain, the next, laughter.
‘I think it shrunk.’
‘You think?’
‘Or you grew. Take your pick.’
‘You are so not funny, Dakota Scott.’
He smiled into her eyes, wondered if she’d picked a fight just to make him feel better. It was the kind of thing he suspected she did to get out of anything too close to the bone.
‘I know, honey, it’s all part of my charm.’
Chapter Nine
‘What do you mean, no TV?’
Robyn stood over Dakota, hands on her hips, as he settled into the narrow couch and put his feet on the crate that substituted for a coffee table.
‘No TV until after you help me with my homework.’
‘Homework? What kind of homework does a cowboy do?’
He grinned up at her, inviting her to share the joke, to relax and go along with whatever he wanted. Robyn stiffened her spine. Dakota was far too used to flashing that winning smile and getting his own way. Just because he happened to answer all her sexual prayers didn’t mean he got to push her around. She edged closer to the miniature TV set.
‘And, by the way, I’m not a kid. I don’t need your permission to put the TV on.’
He tilted his head back to look up at her properly. She clenched her fists to resist the urge to stroke the smooth line of his jaw. Damn, she had it bad and he knew it. The living quarters inside the horse trailer were probably OK for one person. With two of them occupying the space, it got a bit claustrophobic. Robyn could understand why Dakota usually preferred a motel room.
But at least they were moving toward California. With a rig this big, Dakota said it would take at least a couple of days. Robyn didn’t care. She still wasn’t sure exactly what she would do when she returned home and she wasn’t anxious to face her future, whatever it was.
‘You’ve forgotten your promise to me.’ Dakota wagged a finger at her. ‘You said you’d do anything if I gave you a ride to California.’
‘And I am, aren’t I?’ Robyn jutted out one hip. ‘Aren’t you getting the best sex of your life?’
His gaze heated up. ‘That’s a bonus. You promised to help me as well.’
‘Did I? I don’t remember saying that.’
‘Now there’s a surprise. Luckily I do.’
She raised her eyebrows at him. ‘Do you remember everything I say to you? How sweet.’
‘I remember the important bits, now sit down and listen.’ He grabbed her wrist and pulled her down on to the couch beside him. ‘I’ve got some notes to go over. Do you think you could test me on them?’
‘As I said, what the hell for?’
‘I’m working on a master’s.’
‘A master’s in what?’
Dakota shifted uncomfortably in his seat. ‘Nothing much. Just rangeland ecology and watershed management.’
It took at least a minute before Robyn stopped laughing and realized Dakota hadn’t joined in. She bit down on her lip. ‘Are you telling me you already have a bachelor’s degree?’
‘Yeah, in animal science, from Arizona State.’
She studied him for a long time. ‘I hate to repeat myself, but why would you do that when you already have a successful rodeo career and appear in ads?’
‘Because I want something to do when I’m older, something that uses my brain.’
She poked his ribs. ‘You don’t need brains, you’re way too pretty.’
He hunched a shoulder. ‘How do you feel when people say that about you?’
‘It sucks.’
‘Well, right back at you. I want a job where I can work with horses and make a difference.’
‘And the land eco thingy is what you want to do?’
He sat forward and took her hand, his sincerity almost palpable. ‘Yeah. I’ll try to get a job with the Bureau of Land Management, and work with the ranchers and the conservationists so that everyone’s happy.’
‘It sounds, um, fascinating.’
His warm laughter filled the small space. ‘It’s OK, I know I sound like a do-gooding dork, but I really do think it’s time for the government, the environmentalists and the ranchers to work together instead of all this constant bureaucratic bickering.’
She found herself nodding. ‘I’m all for the environment and keeping the Earth turning.’ Yet another side to the complex man in front of her, yet another layer to break through.
He squeezed her fingers. ‘Did you go to college?’
Her faint smile died and she eased her hand away. ‘I never really got the chance. I was too busy smoking weed, drinking and snorting coke. I think they call that the college of life.’
He studied her, his expression deliberately neutral. ‘It’s never too late to get an education.’
She got up from the couch and stood over him, arms folded across her chest. ‘You sound like a pain-in-the-ass parent again.’
‘So your parents did encourage you to go to college?’
‘My dad only turned up when he wanted money and my mom . . .’ She paused, suddenly aware of her own breathing, of the hurt that lingered just beneath her skin. ‘My mom had other plans for me.’
‘Such as?’
‘Keeping her in the luxury she’d become accustomed to.’
‘That’s a cliché if ever I heard one.’
‘And it’s a cliché because in this case it happens to be true.’
He shifted in his seat. ‘I’m not doubting what you said. I’m just trying to understand you.’
‘Don’t.’ She flashed him her best dismissive smile. ‘Just be grateful that I spent my formative years having too much sex and that you get to benefit from it.’
He stood up and the room seemed to shrink. ‘Why do you put yourself down all the time?’
She shrugged. ‘Before someone else can? It’s not exactly hard to see that I’m a mess, Dakota, a fucked-up mess.’
‘Did your last lover tell you that as well?’
She held his gaze. ‘No,
everyone
told me that, and to some extent they were right. There are some years of my life that are almost a total blank. I can’t remember them or what I did at all.’ All she had were the ripped-out photographs from glossy magazines of her falling out of cars, and dresses, of faceless men and bodyguards carrying her home in their arms.
everyone
told me that, and to some extent they were right. There are some years of my life that are almost a total blank. I can’t remember them or what I did at all.’ All she had were the ripped-out photographs from glossy magazines of her falling out of cars, and dresses, of faceless men and bodyguards carrying her home in their arms.
He tried to touch her but she stepped back and came up short against the kitchen countertop.
‘Don’t try to make me feel better about myself, Dakota. I really don’t want to hear it.’
He shrugged and put his hands in his pockets, his hazel eyes steady on hers. ‘No point me telling you something you’ve already worked out for yourself, is there? In my book, knowing what you did wrong is halfway to knowing how to fix it.’
She found herself smiling. ‘I haven’t got that far, but I’m working on it.’
‘You’re here, aren’t you?’ He moved forward and kissed her cheek. ‘Now will you sit down and help me get through this application form?’
Robyn sank down onto the couch again, her legs trembled as if she’d just survived a near miss. What had she expected him to do? Cast her out? Start telling her how to fix things like most men did? How the hell did he get to be so non-judgmental?
‘Are you a Christian?’ she asked.
‘What’s that got to do with anything?’ Dakota stopped rummaging in the bag at his feet and looked up at her.
‘I just wondered.’
His slow grin made her feel heated. ‘Because you’ve finally realized what a saint I am?’
‘No, because you seem to be intent on early martyrdom.’
His smile widened. ‘Saint Dakota. It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?’
She shrugged. ‘Sure, just as long as you realize everyone will think you’re a girly saint.’
He threw a notepad at her. She just about caught it before he launched another heavier one. She flipped open the cover. The pages were lined with neat writing.
‘What’s this?’
He returned to sit beside her, another book in his hand. ‘That’s my notes for my thesis proposal. I’m going to study the effects of a regular fire regime on juniper trees.’
‘You’re kidding, right?’
‘Nope, that’s about it.’
‘Why would you want to burn down trees? Isn’t that the opposite of saving the environment?’
‘You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But left to themselves, junipers take over the land, suck it dry and change the habitat.’
‘Sounds just like my mom,’ Robyn muttered before refocusing on Dakota. ‘And that’s what you want to study?’
‘Yeah.’
‘And someone is going to let you do that.’
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