Trusting the Cowboy (8 page)

She laughed. “The quad and trailer were my first clue that you aren’t,” she returned. “Plus I could probably run faster than this machine.”

“Oh, don’t underestimate how fast this thing can go,” Vic called back. “I’ve had it up to forty miles an hour.”

“No, thanks,” she said with a laugh.

“Then you’d really have to hang on,” he said, shooting her a quick backward glance.

Lauren held his eyes a moment, then looked away, too easily imagining herself clinging to his broad back. The thought held an appeal that spoke to the loneliness of the past year.

You don’t need a man, remember? You have your own plans and you need to stick with them.

But even as she repeated the mantra, it rang hollow.

Vic drove through an opening in a row of cottonwoods and shrubs, coming, as promised, to the side of the house. They came upon another large flower garden hidden from the driveway by more cottonwoods.

“This is what my mom calls her free-range garden,” Vic said as he stopped and turned off the quad. “You can pick whatever you want from here.”

This garden looked wilder, but at the same time Lauren could tell that it was cared for and nurtured.

The ground was still wet from the rain on Saturday and she was thankful she hadn’t worn heels that would have sunk into the ground.

She stopped by a group of daylilies, the pink and purple blossoms waving in the light breeze.

“How many of these do you want?”

All of them
, Lauren wanted to say as she took in the swath of color. It made her heart happy to see the glorious blooms and she bent down to have a closer look at one of the delicate flowers. “I’ve never seen one like this.”

“That’s the Marcher lily I was telling you about. Extremely rare, according to my mother.”

“If there’s enough to spare, I’d love one.” She knew exactly where to plant it. The purple and pink of the lily would go well with the red geraniums she had chosen to plant in the flower bed on the side of the house.

“Your wish is my command,” he said, slipping on his gloves and grabbing the shovel. With one quick push of his booted foot on the shovel, he cut into the ground around the plant she had indicated. She grabbed her shovel as well and helped to cut through the dirt, but she couldn’t push down as far as Vic could. Even so, she kept going, determined to do her part.

A few moments later Vic was tipping a large clump of sod and plant over. Lauren grabbed a large pot and dragged it over, frustrated with the restriction of her narrow skirt.

With a twist of the shovel Vic lifted the mass of dirt and dropped it neatly into the pot. Lauren bent over to pick it up and with a heave, managed to get it into the wagon. She got dirt all over her dress, but she didn’t care.

“You’ll have to dig a big hole for that one,” Vic warned.

“I’ll be wearing more suitable gardening clothes when I do that,” Lauren said, brushing at the dirt on her dress.

“Any other color you want?”

Lauren bit her lip, trying to decide.

“You know what, why don’t you take one of each?” he said. “Get a bunch of pots and we can get working.”

“I don’t think I can take that many.”

“I told you, my mom wants you to have them.”

“But—”

Then to her surprise Vic pulled off his gloves and touched her lips as if to silence her. It was the merest whisper of a touch, but she felt as if her mouth had been branded. As if the air had been vacuumed out of her body.

Vic’s eyes held hers and she saw confusion in their dark depths. As if he didn’t know himself what he had just done.

She swallowed and looked away. “I guess... I could find space...”

“Sorry about that,” he said. “It’s a silly habit. I do it to my mom when she...when she talks too much.”

“It’s okay,” she said, determined to sound casual but at the same time unable to stop her eyes from seeking his again.

But he frowned at the plants as if his mind was already figuring out how to do this as he yanked his gloves on again.

Twenty minutes and sixteen pots later, the trailer was full of a delightful variety of plants in a rainbow of colors.

She wanted to go home right away and plant them all. She didn’t know if she had space for that many plants, but Vic seemed determined to capitalize on his mother’s generous offer.

Why bother planting them all? You won’t even be around to enjoy them.

Lauren stilled the pernicious voice. Planting them gave her something enjoyable to do to fill her time.

“You look happy,” Vic said as he lugged the last pot of peonies onto the trailer.

“I’m excited to get them in the ground.”

Vic pulled a hankie out of his pocket and wiped off his face. “I know you’re wanting to make the place look nice but truthfully, I can’t think of any rancher I know that bought a ranch because it had peonies and lilies.”

She heard the teasing tone in his voice, but at the same time her thoughts shifted to Dean—the true reason Vic wanted to buy her father’s place.

“It gives me something to do.”

“I can appreciate that,” Vic said. He picked up his shovel and set it on the trailer. “Speaking of the sale, I’ll be coming by tomorrow to finish up the haying. It should be dry after today. But it won’t take me all day. I was hoping to go through the rest of your father’s papers we didn’t get to the last time I was there.”

She looked into his eyes and her breath stilled, her heart slowed and everything around them faded away. It was just her and Vic in this idyllic setting.

He’s getting too close. You have to be careful. Don’t you ever learn?

And yet, she couldn’t help a flicker of sympathy at his dilemma. Seeing Dean struggle, hearing his bitterness, was a tangible reminder to her of why Vic wanted to buy the ranch.

“I’m sorry that my dad didn’t take better care of you and your brother,” she said.

“I am, too.” He pulled in a breath, then turned away. “I can take you home as soon as I load these up.”

“No. That would be inhospitable,” Lauren said, setting her shovel on the trailer. “In spite of what your mom said, I would like to go in and at least clean up if your mom or Dean aren’t awake yet.”

“Dean most likely didn’t go to bed. I’m guessing he’s out in the barn. Reading or resting his leg.”

“I heard he injured it in a rodeo accident. How did that happen?” Jodie had made a brief mention of it but hadn’t said how.

“Took a bad spill off a saddle bronc.” He turned away. “Let’s load up these plants.”

His words were abrupt, and as he grabbed a few of the pots and brought them to his truck, Lauren sensed there was more to the story.

And for some reason she wanted to know what it was.

* * *

Vic pulled into the yard and parked by his brother’s truck. Thankfully Dean was still home. He had delivered Lauren’s plants as he’d promised his mother, but the entire time he was gone he had wondered if Dean would take off.

He had been in a lousy mood all morning and Vic suspected seeing Lauren and what she represented probably hadn’t helped.

After the accident Dean had changed. Had become a bit more settled. And when he started working for Jan he starting talking seriously about working together with Vic and ranching together.

Then Lauren had come with her plans that changed everything.

He let his thoughts drift to her, confused at his changing reactions.

It had been easy to be with her this afternoon. Picking out plants. Laughing about how many she wanted and how he had to keep reassuring her that it didn’t matter how many she took.

Then he’d touched her.

Vic winced at the memory. He still wasn’t sure what had gotten into him, only that his gesture had been automatic. Instinctive.

At least she hadn’t jerked away.

And don’t read more into that
, he reminded himself as he shoved the door of the truck open and clambered out, striding to the house.

After he and Lauren had finished digging up the plants, they had come inside, only to discover that his mother was still sleeping. Lauren insisted that they clean up as much as they could. But still his mother didn’t wake. So they left.

His mother was up when he came into the kitchen, sitting at the table with a cup of tea and a gardening magazine. “So did you find enough plants?” she asked.

“More than enough. I think she’ll be busy the next few days planting them all.” He dropped into a chair across from her. “You have a good nap?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Lauren wanted me to make sure to pass on her thanks once again. She felt bad that you weren’t up when she came back into the house.”

“I was sorry, too, but I was so exhausted. I haven’t been sleeping right.”

“Why did you invite her to come if you were so tired?” Vic asked.

“I was just being hospitable.” His mother took a sip of her tea and flipped a page in the magazine. But Vic caught a hint of a smile and suspected that his mother was up to something else.

“She seems like a nice girl,” she continued. “Not at all what I expected, considering how Keith used to complain about her.”

“Keith complained a lot the last few years,” Vic said as he took a cookie from the plate sitting on the table. It was hard not to sound churlish. Lauren’s question about Dean’s accident made him feel guiltier about what happened. And more determined to make it right.

“She’s a lovely person. And attractive. I understand that she’s single. Keith made some comment about her being left at the altar. He had planned to go to North Carolina for her wedding, then suddenly it got canceled.”

As she spoke, the memory came back to him—Keith complaining about the change in plans, as if his daughter’s canceled wedding was all about him. Now that he’d met Lauren, that moment took on a deeper meaning. While he had hoped seeing Dean would make her realize what was at stake, spending time with her made him aware of what she had lost, as well.

He didn’t want to feel sorry for her. She had been on his mind too much already the past few days. He had to keep his mind on what he needed to do.

Keep his focus on his brother and his needs.

Chapter Six

L
auren sat back on her haunches, unable to stop smiling at the flower garden that was slowly rising from the tangle of weeds. Jodie was coming home this afternoon and Lauren was excited to show her the transformation.

The bare spaces left when she pulled out the endless weeds were now filled with a mixture of the flowers Mrs. Moore had given her and those she had purchased at the greenhouse the other day.

Though she knew cutting the blooms off would help establish the plant’s root system, she couldn’t. They looked so friendly and cheerful, adding a bright and pleasant note to the front of the house.

They made it look more like a home.

The thought drifted in her mind, and for a small moment she let it settle, then with a shake of her head dislodged it.

It’s just the ranch.

She brushed the dirt off her pants and pushed herself to her feet, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. The day had started out so fresh and clear, but now the heat of the afternoon sun beat down on her.

In the distance she saw Vic making his rounds with the tractor and baler. The field was large and he’d appear for a while, then as he moved farther on, disappear. He’d been here since midmorning, and from what she could see he was only half-done.

The tractor was an older one and every window was wide-open. If she was hot working out in the open, he must be cooking inside that tractor.

She set the empty pots back on the wheelbarrow, lifted it up and wheeled it across the yard to where Vic’s truck was parked. In the bed of his truck sat the empty tubs the plants from his mother had come in.

Sweat trickled down her back and her hands, inside her leather gloves, were slick. Thank goodness she had worn a hat or she might have to worry about sunstroke.

Once again her eyes moved to where Vic worked. The tractor was stopped, the baler whining.

He must be winding the twine around the bale, she thought, remembering the sound from when her father had done the same work.

Another memory came to her—walking across the prickly hay field with Erin, bringing a container of lemonade to their father while he was working.

You should do that for Vic.

She shook off that thought. He had probably brought his own drink.

But it would be warm and gross by now. It would be a kind and neighborly thing to do.

Part of her knew that, but another part of her—the part that could still feel the touch of his finger on her lips, see the intensity of his expression—held back. Seeing Vic with his mother and brother, working alongside him digging plants, talking to him in church, had all added to a growing attraction.

She knew she couldn’t get distracted. She had to keep her focus.

He dug up all those plants for you—surely you can do something kind for him.

She looked up at the cloudless sky, then at her watch. He would be out there for at least another couple of hours.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she strode to the house and went directly to the pantry, hoping the large canister of lemonade crystals her father always had on hand was still there.

She was in luck—she found not one but two containers. She pulled one down and brought it to the kitchen. It took her a few more minutes to find the insulated drink container they often used. When she pulled it out from the pantry, she felt a surprising touch of nostalgia, remembering bringing their father lemonade. How grateful he’d been.

She dropped ice into the container, added the lemonade crystals and poured the water in. She found a plastic bag, added some oatmeal-raisin cookies she had baked yesterday, grabbed two plastic cups, and a few minutes later was walking down the field. The increasing roar of the tractor told her that it was coming closer. She had timed it just right.

Shielding her eyes, she saw Vic in the cab, and as he came closer, she noticed him frowning.

Probably figured she had one more piece of bad news to deliver.

He slowed down as she approached and came to a stop right beside her.

She held up the container with lemonade and the bag of cookies.

“Thought you might want a break,” she called out over the roar of the tractor.

His grin was a white flash on his dusty face. He shut the tractor off and climbed out.

“That sounds amazing,” he said pulling his ever-present hankie out of his pocket. “I forgot to take extra water along today. I’m kind of parched.” He wiped his face as best he could, then shoved the hankie back in his pocket. “Are you going to join me? Unless you’re too busy making the flower garden magazine-worthy.”

“It will never be anything like your mother’s place,” she said with a quick laugh. “And yes, I’ll join you.”

“I don’t think any place will be or should be like my mother’s,” Vic returned, taking the container from her. “We can sit in the shade of the tractor. Unless the grass will be too scratchy for you.”

“I may be from the city, but I’m about one-sixth country,” she said with a challenge in her voice.

“Only one-sixth?”

“The two months of the year I spent here.”

“Plus the time you lived here.”

“Less the time I didn’t.”

“I should know better than to argue numbers with an accountant.”

She chuckled as she found a place to sit.

He waited until she got herself settled on the ground before he sat down himself. She handed him a cup and he poured them both some lemonade. Then she held out the bag and he took a cookie from it. He took a long drink and then released a contented sigh. “That’s amazing. Thanks so much,” he said as he started munching on the cookie.

“You’re welcome. I used to do this for my father.”

“Ah. Country girl at heart.”

“A bit.”

“Did you ever ride when you were out here?”

“A bit.”

He laughed at that. “If you ever feel the desire to go riding, the horses that Jodie has here are safe to ride. Finn has been working with them.”

“So I heard. Jodie assured me I could take them out anytime I wanted.”

“Have you?”

“I went out on my own on Saturday night,” she returned, lifting her chin in a small gesture of defiance. “It was fun.”

“I’d like to have seen that,” he said. “Where did you go?”

“Just down the road to a trail leading to the river. Nothing dramatic.”

“Those are usually the best rides,” he said. He flashed her another grin and she returned it with one of her own, enjoying the easy give-and-take with this man. He was comfortable to be around.

She pulled her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as she took in the silence surrounding them. Far off she heard the lowing of the cows from the pasture across the road. The sound was an idyllic counterpoint to the chirping of sparrows and the croak of frogs from a creek splashing through the cottonwoods.

A few lazy flies buzzed around and Lauren released a long, slow sigh.

“You sound like you’re decompressing,” Vic said, pushing his cowboy hat farther back on his head.

“I feel like I am.” She spoke softly as if afraid to disturb the moment. “I keep forgetting how quiet it is out here. How isolated.”

“It’s not that isolated. My ranch is down the road in one direction, the Bannister ranch in the other.”

“I know, but in Chicago and New York we live stacked on top of each other, side by side. It’s never quiet. Never.”

She stopped, listening again, a smile lingering on her lips. A gentle calm and a desire to stay right where she was suffused her.

“I don’t think I could handle that,” Vic said, pouring some more lemonade for himself. He held the jug out to Lauren, but she declined a refill.

“I don’t think you could, either,” Lauren said, glancing over at Vic. She tried to picture him strolling down a city sidewalk, past office towers, in that rolling gait of his. The walk of a cowboy. It didn’t jell.

“But you’re used to it?”

“Got used to it,” she admitted. “Don’t forget, I’ve been living in large towns and cities ever since we left here.”

A breeze started up just as she reached for the lemonade container to screw the lid down. Her hair was blown in her face, sticking to her lipstick, and she tried to shake it away but it wouldn’t move.

She felt rough fingers on her face, tucking the strands of hair behind her ear.

It was a light touch. An innocent gesture that probably meant nothing to Vic, but it sent a thrill of awareness sparking down her neck.

She couldn’t help how her head turned toward him as he lowered his hand. She felt a sense of waiting. Expectation.

Then his phone beeped an incoming text and Lauren pulled herself back to reality. Vic glanced at his phone but chose to ignore it. He set it down on the ground between them.

“Don’t forget to pick that up again,” she said, pleased that her voice didn’t sound as shaky as she felt.

“I won’t. I don’t go anywhere without my phone. My mom says it’s unhealthy.”

“It’s unhealthy for me if I forget it.”

“Why?”

“I get all jittery thinking I might miss some important call. Back in the city we call it FOMO—fear of missing out.”

He chuckled. “I’m guessing you have your phone with you now?”

“Back pocket.”

He smiled as he took another cookie, and she was thankful for the easy give-and-take between them. Just two people spending time together. Nothing more.

“You make these?” Vic asked.

“The only kind I know how to make, much to my grandmother’s disappointment. She always said oatmeal-raisin cookies were the reason she has trust issues.”

Vic’s frown told her he didn’t get the old family joke.

“She always thought they were chocolate chips and got disappointed. She never liked raisins. In anything.”

“And yet you continued to make cookies with raisins?”

“Because I like them and it was the only recipe that turned out well for me,” she returned, taking another drink of her own chilled lemonade. “Erin was the one who liked baking every kind of cookie and cake she found on the internet and in any cookbook my aunt had lying around.”

“Jodie much of a baker?”

“No. She was the entertainer of the family.”

“Youngest child,” he said, taking another cookie out of the bag.

“You know of what you speak?”

“Dean’s the same way. Or used to be.”

“How is he doing today?”

“Better. He’s helping Jan today, so that helps. Lets him feel useful.”

Her thoughts shifted to the conversation they had at his mother’s place. The abrupt way he had turned away from her when she brought up Dean’s accident. She knew she should leave it alone, but her curiosity got the better of her.

“So how exactly did he get hurt?”

“He got dumped off a saddle bronc.”

“And that’s how he broke his leg?”

“No. That happened when he got tangled up in the gate he fell on.”

Lauren winced. And couldn’t help notice the harshness in Vic’s voice. There was more to it than this.

“Has he been riding saddle broncs long?”

“Since he was a little kid.” Vic raised one leg and rested his forearm on his knee as he stared off, as if returning to that moment. “It wasn’t lack of experience that caused the accident. I should’ve paid attention.”

His comment puzzled her. “What do you mean
you
should’ve paid attention?”

Vic’s face grew hard and his eyes narrowed. In the silence that followed, she wondered if he was going to say anything at all.

“I was riding pickup that evening,” he said, his voice quiet. “I was supposed to be watching. I was supposed to grab him if he was in trouble. I didn’t notice—”

He stopped, abruptly finished off the last of his lemonade and set the cup aside.

“So you think it’s your fault that he got hurt?”

“I don’t
think
it is, I
know
it is.” Vic sounded angry.

Slowly things fell into place.

“You want the ranch for Dean because of what happened,” she said.

Vic’s eyes latched on to hers and Lauren wondered if she had pushed him too hard, said too much.

But as he held her gaze, his shoulders seem to slump and he leaned back against the tractor tire. He moved his hand over his chin, as if debating what to say next. “No secret I want the ranch for Dean. I told you that from the beginning.”

“No. But I didn’t know it was because you felt guilty. About what happened to Dean.”

“I don’t feel—” He stopped himself, blew out a breath and released a harsh laugh. “You’re the first person that seems to have put all that together.”

“Not the first. You have, too. And I wonder if Dean has.”

“Doesn’t matter. I have to do this. I have to try,” he amended. “And I know it won’t work for you if I find that agreement, but I still need to try.”

She understood completely, recognizing the burden of every firstborn child. The need to take care of everyone, to take on the responsibility of everyone. Once again doubts assailed her.

Stop overthinking this. For once put yourself first. It’s what you want, what you need.

The little mental lecture centered her. But at the same time she was sorry the topic of Dean had come up. For a few moments she’d felt a connection with Vic. For a few moments she’d shared ordinary conversation with an appealing man. It was nice.

Dangerous, but still nice.

Then her phone rang and all hope of any normal conversation with Vic fled.

It was Alex Rossiter.

* * *

Vic finished off the last of his cookie as he tried not to listen to Lauren’s phone conversation. He knew she was talking to her buyer.

“I know you told me you were coming tomorrow,” she said, her voice sounding strained. “But I forgot to make plans.” She nodded as Vic faintly heard the chatter of a male voice.

The buyer.

The man with all the money.

Then she said goodbye and slipped the phone into her back pocket again.

“So what does he want?” Vic asked, wiping the remnants of cookie crumbs off his pants.

“He asked me last week if he could come tomorrow.” She scratched her chin with her forefinger as if thinking. “He wants me to show him around the ranch, but...”