The Rancher's Twin Troubles (8 page)

“True, but…” Standing, she reached for the empty potato salad dish.

He stood, too, promptly taking it from her, putting the bowl back on the table. “Play with me. It'll be fun.”

“The word isn't in my vocabulary.”

Shifting deeper into her personal space, he asked, “Play? Fun? Be?”

“Stop.” Her breathless giggle told him he was on the right track.

“Why?” Taking her hands, he placed them around his neck. His hands low on her hips, he swayed her in time to the music.

“Dallas…”

“You look awfully cute in that robe.” He especially liked her messy pile of crazy-corkscrew hair. How the deep V at her throat guided his eyes to naughty places.

“I'm thirty-three. Hardly in the right age bracket for cute.”

“Says who?” Pulling her close enough that even air couldn't squeeze between them, he nuzzled her neck.

“Dallas, please…” She made a halfhearted effort to push him away, but then he slipped his hand beneath her chin, drawing her lips to his. Their kiss was awkward and tender and the most exciting thing to happen to him in years. “…I can't.”

“Why?” Dallas kissed her again, this time around, increasing the pressure, the heat. “Afraid the principal's hiding in the bushes and she'll jump out to give you detention?”

She laughed, but tears formed in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks.

“Hey…” Brushing them with the pads of his thumbs, he asked, “What's this about? There's no crying when I'm trying to get some action.”

“I—I know,” she said with a sniffle. “Sorry. This is embarrassing.”

“No, no I get it. Sort of.” He knew the right thing
to do was to release her, but instead, he hugged her for all he was worth. He stroked her hair. Whispered that everything would be all right even though he didn't even know what was wrong.

“You're the first person I've kissed since…” Fisting his T-shirt, she admitted, “And I liked it. I mean really liked it. But that's awful. You're a parent to two of my students and—”

“Whoa.” Cupping his hands to her tear-stained cheeks, he pressed his lips to hers. When she moaned, he took the opportunity to stroke her tongue with his. “You're too beautiful to cry.”

“I'm not,” she insisted while he danced her to the chaise.

“You so are…” Guiding her down, he stretched out alongside her, kissing her again, slipping his hand inside her robe, sweeping her collarbone and shoulder. Lowering the robe, he brushed his lips along the trail his fingers had just blazed. Her skin called to mind the softest satin. Cool and smooth and inviting.

“I—I should go,” she murmured.

“Later. Now, you have to keep kissing me.”

She nodded and then shook her head. “There's so much about me you don't know.”

“But I want to. Tell me everything.”

“Maybe…” She kissed him again. “I wish I could abandon all that I am. I want to let go of the past—keep the good, but the rest…” She sharply exhaled, leading him to believe her convictions weren't as strong as she claimed. “Do you ever wish you could just delete the
past from your brain as easily as a corrupt file from your computer?”

“Sure,” he admitted. “Doesn't everyone? But, Josie, your past made you who you are. And I like this woman.”

“I—I like you, too. I only wish things could be different—I could be different.” Gathering her robe at her throat, she scooted off the lounger, scurrying toward the changing room.

“Josie, wait!” Chasing after her, he stood outside.

When she emerged, fully clothed in her jeans and a sweater and the red boots that'd been one of the first things that had attracted him to her, he searched for the right thing to say, only it wouldn't come. Why?

No doubt because she was right. He'd been a fool to kiss her. She was his daughters' teacher. A friend. Nothing more.

Extending her hand for him to shake, she said, “I had fun. Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

Gesturing toward the dinner remains still littering the table, she asked, “Want me to help clean before I go?”

“I'm good. Might even leave it till in the morning.”

“Aren't you worried about bugs or possums?”

“Not so much.” How in the hell had they gone from kissing to a topic so mundane as night creatures licking the crumbs off their plates? He wanted more from her, but what? Clearly, they shouldn't be physical. But as friends, he'd welcome emotional depth.

“What are you thinking?” she asked. He fought the urge to trace the furrow between her eyes.

He shook his head. “Nothing important. Come on, let me walk you to your car.”
And tomorrow, with any luck, I'll wake having forgotten your taste.

“I want details.” While her students were in music late Monday morning, Shelby popped into Josie's classroom. “How was the ranch? Everything it's made out to be?”

“Better. Only the curious thing is that I'd expected his family to be snobby—you know, like the stereotypical rich TV ranch family. But in reality, they were all genuinely nice people.” Especially Dallas. How long would it take for her to stop reliving their steamy kisses every time she closed her eyes?

“Mmm, sounds dreamy. And here I sat at home with a Lifetime movie and a Lean Cuisine.”

Josie couldn't help but smile. “What a coincidence. That perfectly describes most of my weekends.”

“Seeing him again?”

“No.” Worrying her lower lip, Josie contemplated asking her friend if it was wrong that she wanted to see him again. But why ask when Josie already knew the answer? “Neither of us is looking for anything beyond friendship.”

Shelby wrinkled her nose. “He's great-looking, seems
nice, has two adorable kids and is probably one of the richest guys in the state. What's the problem with a little canoodling?”

Sighing, Josie admired the diligence of her hardworking kiddos. They were drawing the state of Oklahoma and then adding elements such as the state flower and bird. “When I'm at school, I feel energized. Excited about what I do. But in my personal life…” She frowned. “Nat and I got in a huge fight Saturday afternoon. She thinks I should clear out Emma's room.”

“What do you think?”

“I can't even imagine such a thing. Hugh made it somewhat easy on me. I was so angry over him taking his own life that I wanted to get rid of most of his stuff just to put that rage behind me. With Em, it's different. I can't let go.”

“Who says you have to?” Sipping at fragrant coffee from the mug she cradled, she added, “Do you honestly think that remodeling her room is going to erase her from your memory?”

“Of course not.”

“There's your answer.”

“Miss Gwiffin.” Thomas waved his paper in the air. “I forgot the bird.”

“That's why I put a hint on the Smart Board.” She pointed to the front of the room where an oversize image of a scissor-tailed flycatcher standing on the side of a country road was meant for the kids to use as a visual aid.

“Oh!” His big grin lit her heart.

“He's crazy-cute. If only being a grown-up was as simple, huh?” Shelby finished off her coffee.

“True.”

 

T
HOUGH
J
OSIE WAS STILL HURT
by Natalie's speech, she also found herself in need of educated advice. Which was why, instead of spending lunch in her room sorting papers, she stood outside of Nat's office, waving a Diet Coke still cold from the vending machine. “Truce?”

“No bribes necessary,” Natalie declared from behind her desk, wagging her own can, “but I will take a hug.”

“Sorry I snapped at you,” Josie confessed.

“Sorry I lectured you.” Natalie put extra oomph into her hug. “You didn't need that on top of everything else you're going through.”

“But that's just it,” she said, occupying the nearest of Nat's two guest chairs. “I love my life. Granted, there isn't a day that passes when I don't still miss my daughter, but overall, I have a lot to be thankful for. A great job and supportive friends. Plenty of food in my belly and a roof over my head. Before meeting Dallas, I felt satisfied, but now…”

Nat gasped. “You sly fox. You kissed him, didn't you?”

“Technically,” Josie said with a misty smile, “he kissed me, but then the lines of who did what to whom got blurred.”

“Do tell.” Leaning forward with her elbows on a pile of manila folders, she asked, “How far are we talking? First, second, third base?”

“Second. Get your mind out of the gutter. But what would you think if I confessed to wanting more? Am I a horrible person?”

Snorting, Nat said, “That's the stupidest question I've ever heard. Why—for even a second—would you think you're not entitled to each second of happiness you can catch?”

“Guilt, I suppose.” Worrying the cuticle on her thumb, she admitted, “There's a part of me that feels traitorous for indulging in purely selfish pleasures. I mean, enjoying my work with students is one thing, but sampling Dallas Buckhorn's physical attributes felt like an all-out sin.”

“Good.” Straightening, Nat clapped her hands. “Love the sound of that. Now, all you have to do is call him.”

Josie shook her head. “I told you—and him—I'm not interested. Outside of school, I'm not seeing him again.”

 

“D
ADDY?”
S
ATURDAY MORNING
, Dallas woke to Betsy peering at him from the foot of his bed.

“Hey, peanut.” His eyes barely working, he asked, “What's wrong? Why are you up so early?”

“I think I'm going to—” She threw up. Everywhere. On his comforter. The carpet. Herself.

“Oh, baby.” Going to her, he scooped her into his arms, carrying her to the big soaking tub in his room that she loved. Once he turned on the faucets, adjusting the water just right and then dumping in half a bottle of grape-scented bubbles, he tugged off her smelly, wet
clothes before lifting her into the tub. “Poor thing. Did you eat anything weird last night?”

She shook her head.

“Daddy?” Behind him, Bonnie strolled up, her cheeks feverish and pink. “My stomach really—” Quick reflexes got his eldest daughter to the toilet before he had another mess to clean.

With both girls lounging up to their necks in bubbles, he jogged down the hall for cleaning supplies.

“DAAADDY!”

Dallas jogged back to his bathroom to find Betsy wrapped in a towel and hunched over the toilet.

“Good grief, baby…” He rubbed her back. “Think I should sell you and get a new kid who's healthy?”

“You're mean.”

“Oh, I was teasing, Miss Sensitivity. You know how much I love you.”

She retched again.

Mind reeling, Dallas wasn't sure of his next step. This was the kind of thing Stella or his mom would handle. But with both women gone—his mother on a weekend garden tour in Eureka Springs, Arkansas—he was on his own. Not good, considering that beyond the basics, he didn't know diddly about the girls' medical issues.

That fact served as yet one more reminder of what a crappy father he was. Despite the fact, he knew he was in over his head, and when it came to the twins' wellbeing, he wasn't opposed to asking for help.

Stepping into the hall, he punched Josie's number into his cell. She answered on the third ring.

“Hey,” he said, not wasting time on pleasantries.
“I've got an emergency here at the ranch. Mind helping out?”

After hearing a recap of the morning's events, Josie said, “Hang tight. I'll be right there.”

 

I
NDIAN SUMMER HAD BEEN
overtaken by a cool drizzle that suited Josie's mood. It wasn't that she minded helping Dallas and his girls, but she did wonder why, when he was surrounded by family, he'd called her.

After dressing in a comfy jogging suit, the trip to the ranch took under twenty minutes.

Dallas opened the door for her, ushering her inside. “Thank goodness you're here.”

“If the twins are this sick, why haven't you called a doctor?”

“I'm guessing they have a flu bug, but I don't know the first thing to do. Last night, Mom took off for the weekend and the girls have been tag-teaming me for an hour.”

“If it is a virus, hopefully they'll soon have it out of their systems. Have you taken their temperatures?”

“Can't find a thermometer.”

“You really are clueless.” Slipping off her lightweight jacket, she hung it on a brass hook on the wall. Dallas's dirty-blond hair stuck out at crazy angles and his jaw sported a dark shadow. Dressed in navy flannel PJ bottoms and a white T-shirt that hugged his muscular chest, her mouth went dry from the mere sight of him. What would it be like to have touching privileges? To be able to run her hands along his hard ridges any time she
caught the fancy? Forcing her mind back to the matter at hand, she asked, “Where are the patients?”

“Right this way.” He shyly extended his hand, and she took it, feeling all of thirteen due to shivery excitement stemming from just his touch. What was happening to her? She was a sensible, grown woman never prone to flights of fancy.
Practical
might as well be her middle and last name. A fling with Dallas would only bring her pain.

True, her conscience conceded, but in the short run, it could also produce an insane amount of pleasure.

“Miss Griffin!” Betsy and Bonnie jumped to the foot of Dallas's bed for hugs.

Bonnie quickly turned green and kept on jumping right off the bed for a run into the bathroom.

Josie chased after her, holding her shoulders. “Sweetie, you're a mess.”

“What about me?” Betsy asked. “Am I a mess, too?”

“Absolutely.” Josie took a washcloth from a pile of them tucked into a linen nook. Wetting it with cold water, she held it to Bonnie's forehead. “There you go,” she soothed. “I know it hurts, but the more you get out, the faster you'll feel better. All of the bugs have to go away.”

“I have bugs?”

“Sort of.” Easing onto the cool tile floor alongside the commode, Josie drew the girl onto her lap, gently rocking. How many times had she held Emma like this? Truth be told, being a mom again—even on a temporary basis—felt amazing. “Teeny tiny germs get into your body and cause all sorts of trouble. That's why
it's important to wash your hands a lot—especially this time of year.”

“Oh.” Bonnie leaned back against her, obviously exhausted.

“I like washing my hands and playing with the soap,” Betsy exclaimed. “I like to squirt out lots of soap so it looks like slimy boogers between my fingers.”

“That's gross,” Bonnie said.

“I agree.” Josie hugged her tighter, relishing the sensation, however long it lasted. Her emotions battled, but for now at least, the pleasurable present won over her painful past. It broke her heart to see Bonnie so ill, but to be needed again on such a basic level was bliss. “But at least it gets your sister nice and squeaky clean.”

Betsy made a face. “I
don't
squeak!”

It took a while but the twins finally stopped throwing up. Josie tucked them into bed, and with both girls sleeping, she dared leave their side.

Dallas entered his room, thermometer in hand. “Found it in Mom's room.”

When he offered it to her, she waved it away. “I've felt enough feverish bodies to guess they're running a tad over a hundred. Besides, with the girls finally resting, I'd hate to wake them.”

Nodding, he said, “Sounds reasonable.” After a moment's awkward silence, he said, “Thanks for coming. I know I could've handled this on my own, but it seemed too overwhelming.”

Gesturing for him to follow her into the hall, she whispered, “I understand the first few months of school can be daunting but, Dallas, helping your children when
they're sick is a pretty basic parenting skill.” One she'd learned early on with her own daughter.

Scowling, he said, “I'm a horrible father. I get it. You don't have to rub it in.”

“I'm not.” But was she? She'd move heaven and earth if given one more second with Emma. Here, Dallas had been given the gift of two precious children, yet he didn't seem to realize how lucky he was.

Heels of his hands on his forehead, eyes closed, he suggested, “Feel free to take off. I'll handle things from here.”

“Don't be like that.”

“What did you expect?” Arms now tightly folded, he refused to meet her stare.

“Not for you to pout like one of your girls over a little constructive criticism.”

Still beyond miffed by Josie's lack of support, Dallas led her toward his mother's favorite room.

His mom loved to read, so his father had the library built just for her. Ten-foot shelves lined one wall, a half wall overlooked the living room and the third wall consisted of custom paned windows that towered toward the ceiling's peak. Lounge chairs and ottomans provided comfortable seating while side tables held his father's statuary bronze lamp collection which illuminated pages with just the right amount of light. A study table built from a massive redwood slab had served him and his brothers and sister through too many term papers to count.

“This is amazing,” Josie noted, staring up in awe. Six skylights provided an abundance of natural light.
“The more I see of this house, the more I understand why everyone in town talks about it.”

“I've never really thought about it, but yeah. Guess I'm lucky to have grown up here.” The chair he sat in had a Sharpie stain on the rolled arm. Wyatt had been grounded for a week once their mother found out he'd tattooed the dog with the same pen. “How about you?” he forced himself to ask if for no other reason than to prove that as a grown man, he certainly didn't pout. “Where are your roots?”

“Here and there. I was born in Michigan, but spent most of my life in Oklahoma City. My husband's first job out of college was for the First National Bank of Weed Gulch. When I landed a position with the school, we felt as if our every dream had come true.”

“How did he die?” The second Dallas asked the question, he regretted it. Her complexion paled as she pressed her lips into a thin line. “Not that it's any of my business.”

“He shot himself.”

“Holy shit,” he blurted without thinking. “You're that guy's wife? I remember when it happened.” The man used his grandfather's shotgun to do the deed. If memory served him right, Josie had been the one to find him. For a town the size of Weed Gulch, such shocking news traveled like wildfire, though Dallas by no means knew everyone.