Yours Again (River City Series) (13 page)

“Kinda
warm in here, too, don’t you think, Sammy?” Taos asked. She looked at him as if
he were a mosquito she wanted to swat.

He
looked back at the floor. They hadn’t tracked in any mud, so that wasn’t it. He
could tell she had cleaned again. Was he supposed to say something? “The
kitchen looks great.”

“Thank
you.”

Burrrr!
That wasn’t it either. “Um, and the cookies smell good.”

“Thank
you.”

He
looked closely at her to make sure icicles weren’t hanging off her tongue. As she
dished slices of ham onto plates he took a seat at the table.

 She
wasn’t upset when they left. He had felt some kind of shift last night. It was
as if she had dropped this crazy game she was playing and was just a
frightened, beautiful woman who wanted his comfort. He wasn’t sure what scared
her so bad, but it was real and not just some lighting storm.

Taos
had thought of her all day. The way she stood on the porch, surrounded by the
orange glow of sunlight. She was beautiful, and it was all he could do not to
jump off his horse when she smiled at him. He revisited every minute of last
night a thousand times from her soft smooth skin to the way she responded to
his touch as she slept.

So
what had he done since then? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He leaned back as she
plopped his plate down in front of him so hard the cookies in the middle of the
table jumped, and so did Darren.

Why
the attitude?
Taos wondered, was it because he won? He’d kept his distance
and she hadn’t. That had to be it. She knew he was in control now and didn’t
like it one bit. She was flustered and embarrassed that she responded the way
she did to him. That was it. He’d always heard that there was a thin line
between fighting and loving. He beamed a smile at her.

“What’s
so funny?” Her voice was sharp.

“Nothin’.”
Taos picked up his fork and took a big bite. She seemed to be more annoyed by
the minute. “Where’s Tommy?” he asked.

“He
already ate.” She reached for the cookies just as he did, and their hands
touched. She jerked hers back as if she had been scalded and stared down at her
plate.

“He’s
been tired lately. You must be putting him to work.” The soft tone of his voice
drew her eyes upward. She was as skittish as a new colt. This was definitely
his game. He felt like a man who held a full house and she had only a pair of deuces.
He grabbed the coffee pot off the stove and went around the table, filling each
cup.

He
leaned over and gently touched the back of her arm “You okay?”

“I’m
fine.” She squeaked and scooted away, her face staining red.

He
and Darren talked casually about the work still ahead tomorrow as Samantha
finished her meal in silence. He caught her watching him and returned her gaze
with a slow smile. She blushed and he found it more and more difficult to
concentrate on what Darren said. Although he wanted to completely unnerve her,
he was the one getting frustrated. If he kept this up, he’d end up dragging her
off to the barn for a roll in the hay—literally.

“There’s
a dance in town in a few weeks.” Darren informed them while polishing off the
last of his sandwich. “I thought Sammy might like to get out for a while.”

Startled
out of his thoughts, Taos glared at Darren, then at Samantha.

“That
sounds nice.”

She
was distracted, something was definitely on her mind.

“I
don’t think you should be going.” Taos commanded.

She
ignored him. “When is it?”

Darren
opened his mouth to reply, but was immediately cut off.

“No
need for you to go, you won’t be here long enough to get to know anyone.” Taos
said.

“Excuse
me.” Samantha laid her napkin on the table and walked out the back door.

Darren
frowned at him. “Do you have to be a total ass?”

“What?”
Taos held up his hands innocently.

“Some
days you have all the personality of thirty g-grit sandpaper!” Darren stood. “It’s
a wonder you ever had a woman within t-ten feet of you!” He took the stairs to
the second floor two at a time to get away from Taos.

“Damn.”
Taos felt less than an inch tall. Something just wasn’t right with Sammy. It
was like she was distant, sad. He didn’t like it, not one bit. He thought he
had it figured out this morning. She had responded to his touch, smiled at him
like he was the best thing on earth, and now this. Somewhere between then and
now something had changed, but what? He wasn’t trying to hurt her; she wasn’t
playing the game right. This wasn’t how she was supposed to react. He was
supposed to say something to make her mad, and her green eyes would flash that
beautiful yellow color and she would go for his throat. She wasn’t supposed to
fold. This was like playing poker blindfolded.

Chapter 13

She
had to leave. Samantha hadn’t really thought about it until Darren asked her
about the dance, and she had realized it didn’t matter when it was; she would
be in Boston by then. Either Taos sent the letter and Lawson would be here any
day, or he hadn’t and Mattie would soon alert her that all was well. There
would be no more reason for her to be here, and she couldn’t keep up the
charade that she was just in it for the ranch. Either way she would be gone.
She’d stalked around the house all day angry at Taos for not trusting her but
the truth was she didn’t trust herself.

Her
feet plodded along the path and Samantha was lost in thought, not caring where
they took her. As the sun sank toward the horizon, her heart felt like it had
shriveled to the size of a raisin.
Be careful what you wish for
, Aunt
Mattie had always said. There was certainly no doubt in her mind where she
stood now. Nowhere. The letter proved he wanted to pawn her off just as fast as
he could on someone else, and time was short. She closed her eyes and silently
begged to see the young man she had known once. The old Taos was pretty much
dead and any dreams she had to the contrary were just that: dreams.

She
stopped as the fragrances wafted toward her. She was on the edge of the flower
garden. The beauty of the spot had a soothing effect, and she wandered along
the path until she stood in front of the tiny angel. She knelt and sat back on
her feet, staring up at the red-and-white striped petals that covered the rose
canes. She should be thrilled at the thought of going home, but instead it
filled her with an aching sadness.

 A
large pink rose suddenly appeared in front of her.

“A
peace offering.” Taos’s soft voice vibrated just above her ear.

Her
hands shook as she reached for the flower.

He
sat behind her, long legs to one side, leaning near enough for her to feel the
warmth of his chest on her back. She felt his breath brush her neck and closed
her eyes. She was so tired of talking. To him, to herself. Wondering how he
felt or what he thought. She couldn’t make heads or tails of her own emotions
let alone his. Did she have feelings for him, or just the memory of him she’d held
on to for the last nine years?

He
slid an arm around her waist and drew her back against him. “People say a lot
of things they don’t mean sometimes.”

“People?”

He
didn’t answer. Just the warmth of his arm circling her made her feel better
than she had all day. She twirled the rose in her hand. The petals were soft
and fragrant and she trailed them along her cheek. She imagined his fingers
following their path. She glanced back and found him watching her intently.
“What kind of rose is this?”

“It’s
called a cabbage rose. It’s the same rose you might see in a painting by one of
the Dutch masters in one of your museums in Boston.”

“Boston
seems a lifetime away from this place.”

“You
a little homesick?”

“Yes,
and no.” She glanced at his questioning expression. “I mean, I miss Mattie.”
She inhaled the sweet scent of honeysuckle that wafted on the breeze from a
nearby trellis. “I don’t miss the noise, or the traffic, or the people.”

“You
didn’t have friends.”

“A
few, but . . .”
No one that knew her, or really understood. Not like here.
“The people there are just different, that’s all.”

“More
civilized and citified than a bunch of cowhands, I bet.”

“Yes,
but that’s not necessarily a good thing.”

He
raised his brows at her statement.

“There
are so many people that only care about appearances. They try constantly to be
something they are not. With the people here, what you see is what you get,
warts and all.”

He
laughed. “There’s plenty of warts.”

“It
is a very good thing to get back to who and what you are. To find where you
belong. I think it’s like a wonderful gift.”

“I
know what you mean,” he mumbled.

Was
he talking about himself, or was it a reference to her? God knows she hadn’t
been herself since stepping foot off that train. “How do you know so much about
roses?”

“You
think it’s a strange hobby for a rancher?”

“A
little.”

“There
were some books my mother had when she came here.” He trailed a finger down her
arm, leaving fiery warmth in its wake. “When I was a teenager, I asked my dad
what she was like and he handed me these books. They were about gardening and flowers,
roses in particular. He could never talk about her, so I read.”

“I
saw the books in your office.”

He
shrugged. “I’ve added a few here and there.”

“I
really didn’t remember much about my mother either, as far as what kind of
person she really was. I just remember her always being there for me. I don’t
know what she worried about, or what dreams she had growing up.” She stared
into the distance. “Or even if she liked roses.”

“I
remember you mother. Claire was beautiful.” He thought a minute. “Your dad
loved her very much.”

 “I
remember that part. He used to surprise her with all kinds of little gifts, and
me too.”

“You
look just like her you know.” He reached up and ran his thumb along her chin.

Samantha
curled shaking fingers around his wrist and leaned her cheek into his palm. Her
heart pounded as the blood rushed through her ears with a deafening roar.

“Do
you miss her?” His voice was a soft whisper.

“Do
you miss yours?” She stared up into his eyes, then her gaze slid to his lips. The
feeling that welled within her was so intense she could hardly breathe. She
felt so close to him, she didn’t want it to end. She wanted to be closer, much
closer. He leaned toward her and kissed her warmly, tenderly.

Her
lips fairly sizzled. The heat radiated trough her body sending tremors all the
way to her toes. His arms closed around her and urged her closer. She needed no
encouragement. Her body craved the warmth of his and drifted toward him like a boat
on a powerful tide. Taos groaned and deepened his kiss as his hands slid down
her back to her waist and back up to her hair. Samantha was beyond thinking
about tomorrow or any of the
what
ifs
. She clung to this man and
willed time to stop.

After
a few minutes Taos pulled away and smiled at her, allowing her to catch her
breath.

Samantha
was more than a little dazed.
Wow!
She turned and leaned her back
against his chest. He hesitated, then circled her with his arms, his breath
hovering above her right ear. Affection seemed such an easy thing for most
people to give, yet so difficult for him. It made her crave it all the more.

Samantha
gazed at roses. “Tommy told me you planted this garden when he was little.”

She
felt his nod.

“Most
of it I planted before he was born. I have added a few things since then,
though.”

An
unmistakable coldness crept into his tone. Something unpleasant happened here,
but what? Curiosity urged her on. “Why did you plant it at all?”

He
paused, his voice quiet. “When I married, things weren’t perfect, but I thought
. . .” He shrugged. “I don’t know what I thought, but I tried to make things
better.”

Samantha
stared at the little angel.

“I
planted this garden because my wife complained about being out on a dusty ranch
with nothing beautiful around.”

“Did
she like it?”

He
grunted and shook his head. “She liked things that cost a lot of money. It was
me she didn’t care for. She never set foot out here.”

“What
a waste.” On both counts. Samantha sighed. Secretly she was glad. The thought
of Taos sharing this place with his wife was extremely distasteful. This was
probably the only place on the ranch that was untouched by the shadow of
Sharisse’s memory. How could a woman cause so much damage? “Charlie told me she
wasn’t very nice.”

 “I’ll
bet.” Taos laughed. “Sharisse and Charlie did not hit it off at all.”

 “Everyone
likes Charlie.”

“Not
her. I think he was the only one who could see her for what she was, and she
knew it.” Taos paused. “He tried to tell me. They all tried to tell me. But I
just wouldn’t listen.”

“Does
Tommy ever ask you about her?”

“No.
Why, has he said something to you?”

“No.
Not yet.”

He
was silent, as if deep in thought.

“He’ll
want to know some day,” Samantha said.

“Yeah,
I just don’t know what I’m going to tell him.”

“How
about the truth?”

Taos
shook his head. “You mean that she hardly ever touched him? Flat out refused to
get up and tend him when he cried at night? Or how about that the day she left?
She never even looked at him, let alone held him or said goodbye.”

“Surely
it wasn’t that bad, Taos.”

He
squeezed her arms slightly. “It was.”

The
white roses with red stripes bloomed vigorously. “What kind of roses are
these?” She hoped he’d volunteer information on the little statue underneath so
she wouldn’t feel as if she were prying.

He
looked up. “These are special. They’re a type of wild rose.”

“Why
are they special?”

“It’s
an apothecary rose, first cultivated by the Persians and Egyptians for their
perfume and medicinal value.” He smiled. “There’s a legend that goes with
them.”

“What
is it?” she asked and glanced back at him. Taos’s eyes sparkled as he talked,
and she felt his mood lift.

“Once
upon a time,” he used his best storyteller voice, “an ancient warrior fell in
love with a beautiful young maid. While he was away fighting an important
battle, she fell ill and died.” “Oh, how sad.”

“The
warrior returned and was heartbroken, afraid that she would be forgotten. So he
decided to build a garden as a memorial to her. He spent years traveling the
world in search of a flower that was as beautiful as she had been.”

The
sound of his voice held her spell bound. A vision floated through her mind of
him sitting on the edge of a bed a few years from now, telling this same story
to a little blonde-haired girl.

He
paused as if checking that she was listening.

“And?”
she said impatiently.

“He
eventually found it: a pure white rose with a yellow center that had an
incredible fragrance. He brought the rose home and grew a large garden filled
with them.”

“So
why do they have red stripes on the petals?”

“I
was just getting to that part.” He purposely teased her curiosity. “Each year
the roses bloomed for only a few weeks, and the warrior spent the entire time
stroking the petals and remembering his lost love. The thorns pricked his
fingers but he never stopped. Every year, each and every petal became striped
with red from his blood. When the man died, the roses continued to bloom with
the red stripes along the white petals.” He whispered in her ear, “It is said
that any woman who wears the fragrance of these roses will never be forgotten.”

“They
smell wonderful.” Samantha reached out to pick one, but his hand immediately
shot out and grasped her wrist.

“These
belong here, don’t touch them.” He cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed at
his emotion.

Samantha’s
hand dropped to her side. She had to know. “Why is the angel here?”

He
paused a moment, “I suppose you heard rumors of what happened with Sharisse
from the people in town.”

“Yes,
but I think there’s more to it than what I heard.” She twisted around to face
him.

“I’m
sure it gets worse with every telling.” Bitterness edged his words. “We had an
argument. I don’t even remember what it was about now. She got hysterical and
ran up the stairs. She tripped and fell. By the time the doctor got here, it
was too late. She lost the baby she was carrying.”

His
face turned to stone and the vein on his forehead bulged. “Sharisse blamed me
and spread the word all over town that I had beat her and killed the baby.”

She
touched his arm. “Not everyone believes that.”

He
gave her a grateful smile and kissed her cheek. “It doesn’t matter anymore.” He
stretched out his arm and gently touched the angel. “She wanted to pretend the
child never existed. Didn’t even want to have a marker as a reminder. It is a
terrible thing to not have even a marker to acknowledge your existence.”

A
tear slid down Samantha’s face as he continued.

“It
was a little girl. I buried her here.”

Several
moments passed as she tried to regain her voice. “What was her name?”

His
expression hinted at a deep and unhealed wound. “Sharisse didn’t name her.”