Emily-Ann had hurt for the loss her friend had endured. Even so, she knew that Camille had been blessed for having a father for nineteen years. Emily-Ann had never had one. Not a real father, anyway.
“Yes, I’m sure your brothers feel that way,” Emily-Ann said thoughtfully. “And your uncle seems like a genuine kind of guy.”
“I think so, too,” Camille replied, then smiling she pointed to the food on Emily-Ann’s plate. “Eat. Before you turn that stuff into a pile of hash.”
* * *
It wasn’t until hours later, after most of the guests had gone, that Taggart slipped away from the handful of people left on the patio and walked around to the side of the house where a view of the ranch yard could be seen in the distance.
Leaning his shoulder against the large trunk of a cottonwood tree, he gazed out at the numerous barns and sheds and endless maze of connecting corrals. Before he’d ever thought about leaving West Texas and the Flying W behind, he’d heard of Three Rivers Ranch. It had a reputation for prestigious horses and crossbred cattle that could thrive under the harshest conditions. Taggart had expected the livestock to be top-notch. What he hadn’t expected was the sheer vastness of the property. Even by Texas standards it was massive and rough and beautiful.
“Did you decide you needed a little peace and quiet?”
The female voice startled him and he glanced around to see Emily-Ann stepping out of the deep shadows. He’d not known anyone was around and he wondered if she’d been watching him. The idea sent a shaft of heat slithering down his backbone.
“Something like that,” he answered, then asked, “What about you?”
She joined him beneath the tree. “I’ve been upstairs to see the kids and the babies. Billy, Chandler’s baby, is teething now and yelling up a storm. He makes that coyote out there in the hills sound wimpy.”
Taggart chuckled. “Doc will be proud to hear his new son has stronger vocal cords than a coyote.”
She didn’t make a reply and Taggart glanced over to see she was gazing thoughtfully out at the ranch yard. In many ways, she seemed at home here on Three Rivers, but in other ways, he sensed that she felt apart from the Hollisters and their friends. Although, he couldn’t imagine why that would be. They all treated her like a family member.
Because she was my friend I got the chance to do things that I couldn’t have done otherwise.
Her remark about Camille had struck Taggart and left him wondering what she’d meant by it exactly. That the Hollisters being rich made them different from her? Well, that was hardly a surprise. The Hollisters’ wealth superseded most everyone in the area, including him.
“Is this place anything like the ranch where you worked before?” she asked.
Her question brought him out of his reverie and as he continued to rest his weight against the tree trunk, he allowed his gaze to linger on her face and hair. At the moment, it was splotched with moonlight and he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to kiss the silvery spots upon her skin.
“The Flying W was big, but not this big. There weren’t any mountains on it, but there were lots of what we Texans call cuts and breaks. It’s where the years of rain and wind create deep gorges and cut banks into the ground.”
“What about trees? Did you have many of those?”
“Some blue cedar and cottonwood. But they were few and far between and the wind usually kept most of the leaves stripped off the cottonwoods. That’s the way it is up near the panhandle. But there was plenty of cholla cactus and it’s real pretty when it blooms.”
“Sounds desolate,” she commented.
“I suppose it is—in a way. But it was home to me.”
He could feel those green eyes of hers studying his face and though they were partially covered by shadows, he knew they were full of questions. Many of which he didn’t feel comfortable answering. Not now. Maybe after this place began to feel like home to him, he’d want to talk about his life back in Texas.
He said, “Now you’re thinking if I felt that way, why did I ever leave. Right?”
“It did cross my mind,” she admitted. “But you don’t have to tell me. That’s your business. Not mine.”
She was exactly right. And he should feel glad that she respected his privacy. Yet a part of him was disappointed that she wasn’t interested enough to pry at him. Had moving to Arizona turned him into a wishy-washy fool, he suddenly wondered? Or was this sexy redhead the reason his thought process had gone haywire?
“The Williamsons, the people who owned the Flying W, were great to work for. I started as a day hand there when I was twenty-two. Three years later I’d worked my way up to foreman.”
“Sounds like Matthew. He was very young when he first started working here on Three Rivers.”
“Matthew has been blessed and he knows it. The Hollisters will always be here. They’ll always hold the reins. He’s never had to worry that a syndicate or some other owner would come in and start changing the way the ranch should be run.”
“And that’s what happened at the Flying W?” she asked.
Nodding, he tried not to feel bitter. His old job was behind him now and the problems there would continue to go on without him.
“The Williamsons built the ranch years ago and owned it, up until a year ago,” he explained. “But then Mr. Williamson, who’s in his mideighties, suffered a mild stroke. He recovered nicely, but his daughter didn’t waste time in persuading him to sell the property. She convinced him that the ranch was the reason for his stroke.”
“Was it?” Emily-Ann asked.
The choked sound he made was intended to be a laugh, but it held no humor. “That was a joke. She was the reason the old man carried around a load of stress. She’d been married and divorced twice and the cost of her mistakes had pretty much bankrupted her parents. So he sold to a family from Georgia. The Armstrongs know nothing about the West or raising cattle. Nor do they want to learn. So you can pretty much figure out the problems that caused for me and all the hands.”
“Were you the only one who left the ranch’s employment? Or did the other hands feel like you and leave, too?”
“All the original crew of men who worked the Flying W have left and gone on to different jobs now. I was one of the last holdouts. I guess I was foolishly hoping that something would change. That Mr. Williamson would find a way to buy the ranch back. But it never happened.”
She looked at him. “I’m going to assume that the daughter was an only child. There were no other children to help with the ranch or the finances?”
Taggart shook his head. He’d been the closest thing to a son to Walt Williamson. But Emily-Ann didn’t need to know that. Nor did she need to know that the daughter had always been bad-mouthing Taggart because he refused to warm up to her sexual propositions.
“Unfortunately, Joanna was the only child the couple had. Things might have been different if there’d been another grown son or daughter or around the ranch.”
She moved a step closer and Taggart caught the gentle scent of flowers and desert wind on her hair. The fragrance was alluring and unique, just like her.
“Well, I don’t know about the other men you worked with on the Flying W and whether they’ve moved on to better things. But you certainly have. You’re going to love working for the Hollisters. They’re fair and honest and they care for their cattle and horses the same way their forefathers did a hundred and fifty years ago.”
The sight of her upturned face grabbed something inside of him and to save himself from doing or saying something idiotic, he forced his gaze back on the ranch yard.
“Yes. I’ve learned this place has a long, colorful history,” he said. “I feel honored to be a part of it now.”
She smiled. “I’m guessing your family probably wasn’t keen on you moving away to another state.”
As always when he thou
ght of his parents, a part of him shuttered down. It had been so long since all of his family had been together and even then, his father had never really put his wife and children before himself. His mother had worked hard to put meals on the table and made sure that Taggart and his little sister were clean and cared for. She’d been the rock that had held them all together.
“My mother has been dead for a long time and my father, such as he is, only comes around when he wants something. I do have a younger sister, Tallulah. We’re close.”
“Does she live in Texas?”
“Yes, in a little town close to the New Mexico line.” He looked back at her. “What about you? Do your parents or siblings live around here?”
She looked away from him and for a moment Taggart thought she was going to totally ignore his question and then she finally spoke in a small voice.
“My mother passed away a few years ago,” she said. “And my father was—never in my life. I don’t have any siblings. I wish I did. I think things would’ve been a lot better if I’d had a brother or sister. But it didn’t turn out that way.”
It was easy to tell from the strained sound of her voice that it was difficult for her to talk about her family, or lack of one. Taggart could have told her that he understood, that he, too, had come from a broken home. But he’d already told this woman much more than he should have. In fact, he couldn’t believe he’d told her all those things about the Flying W or his parents. It wasn’t like him to divulge such personal things about himself to anyone.
Down toward the ranch yard, he could hear a few penned calves bawling and farther on a stallion called to his mares. The familiar sounds were comforting to Taggart, but apparently Emily-Ann hadn’t taken notice of them. She was focusing on the lonesome wail of a coyote far off on a ridge of mountains west of the ranch house.
“When I was a young girl I used to be afraid when I heard a coyote,” she said wryly. “I was a town girl and didn’t know much about the outdoors. Camille told me that coyotes are very family oriented and that when they mate it’s for life. I never did really believe her. She’s such a romantic I figured she made it up. Because the whole thing sounded so dreamy and tender.”
He grunted while wishing a part of him could still feel loving and tender. But there were no soft spots left in his heart, no room for a romantic dream to dwell and grow.
“I can assure you that Camille told you right. Coyotes do mate for life. So do mourning doves—until one of the pair dies.”
Until one dies. Yes, Taggart had mated for life, he thought. Only that life hadn’t lasted long.
“Oh,” she said, then laughed softly, “I’ve learned something tonight. Mainly that I should believe Camille when she tells me something.”
He pushed away from the tree trunk. This wasn’t good, he thought. Standing out here in the shadows with a voluptuous redhead that smelled like an angel and looked like a seductress.
“I should get back to the patio,” he said. “Most of the guests are leaving and the Hollisters are probably wondering where I’ve gotten off to.”
“Time I was going, too. The drive back to my house takes about thirty minutes and I have to open Conchita’s early in the morning.” Smiling at him, she offered him her hand. “I’ve enjoyed talking with you, Tag. And I wish you the best with your new job. Maybe one of these days you’ll get the urge for a pastry and some coffee and drop by Conchita’s. It’s open every day but Sunday.”
His fingers tightened around hers and before he knew what he was doing he was tugging her forward until the front of her body was very nearly touching his.
She looked up at him and Taggart’s gaze took in her wide green eyes and parted lips. She was clearly surprised by his action, but not nearly as stunned as he was feeling.
“Tag, what—”
“I couldn’t let you walk off,” he said. “Not until I told you how much I’ve enjoyed these few minutes with you.”
Her breasts rose and fell as she drew in a deep breath, then quickly exhaled. “If you really got to know me, you wouldn’t be saying that.”
Her hand felt so soft and warm that all he could think of was pulling her closer, letting his hands roam her back and his lips explore hers.
“Why?”
He watched her teeth bite into her bottom lip. “Because I’m not your kind of woman.”
That was far from what he was expecting her to say. “I wonder how you came to that conclusion. You don’t know me—yet.”
Her nostrils flared and he could see a vein at the base of her throat throbbing at a rapid pace. It was obvious he was making her nervous, but she was doing a hell of a lot more to him than that. Just holding her hand, feeling the heat of her body radiating toward his was enough to stir a flame deep inside him.
Her lips twisted with wry resignation. “Let’s just say I know my limitations. And you’re on the other side of the boundary. But it would be nice to be your friend, Tag. I’d like that.”
Maybe she’d like things that way, Taggart thought, but he wouldn’t. At some point from the moment he’d met her a few hours ago, until now, his mind had tossed away the idea of wanting to be her friend and changed to wanting to get to know every inch of her. The idea was shocking and scary, but it was there in his head anyway and he couldn’t get it out.
“That’s not the way I see things, Emily-Ann. I’m seeing you in my arms—like this.”
Confusion flashed in her eyes, then she opened her mouth to speak, but he didn’t wait to hear her reply. Instead, he bent his head and placed his lips over hers.
Soft, sweet and velvety smooth. Her lips were all that and more. And for a long, long moment Taggart lost himself in the pleasure of kissing her.
It wasn’t until his arms slipped around her waist and he felt her hands fluttering helplessly against his chest that he realized he had to end the contact. Otherwise his senses were going to forget where he was, and why a kiss was all he dare take from this woman.
Forcing his head up, he drew in a ragged breath and watched her eyelids flutter open. He saw surprise flickering in the green depths and something else he couldn’t quite identify. Was that longing, or regret, or a mixture of the two?
It doesn’t matter, Tag. You can’t get caught up in what this woman is thinking or feeling!
The voice in his head made him want to curse out loud. Instead, he did his best to smile and act as though her kiss hadn’t shaken him all the way to the soles of his boots.
“You go around locking lips with women you’ve only known a few hours?” she asked.
The husky note in her voice was such a sexy sound it made him want to pull her back into his arms and kiss her all over again.
“Uh—no. I don’t normally—kiss any woman.” His throat felt raspy and he tried to swallow the sensation away as he lifted his hat from his head and swiped a hand through his hair. “Must be something about the moonlight.”
An incredulous look appeared in her eyes and then she let out a cynical snort. “Aww, shucks ma’am, I just couldn’t help myself,” she said in an exaggerated drawl. “Am I going to hear that next?”
“No. And you’re way off on the accent. I’m not from South Texas. I’m from West Texas.”
Her nostrils flared. “There’s a difference?”
“A huge one.”
Something flashed in her eyes and then her gaze dropped to the middle of his chest. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have been so flippant,” she mumbled. “But you have the wrong idea about me.”
Long brown lashes were veiling her eyes, yet he could see enough of her lips to know they were trembling. Damn it, he’d never intended to insult her.
“No. I got the wrong idea about myself,” he said flatly. “I’m sorry. And you’re right. I shouldn’t have been kissing you. Instead, I should’ve been asking you to be my friend.”
Her gaze lifted to his
and Taggart felt punched by the mistrust he spotted in her eyes. What kind of man did she think he was? One that held little regard for women? Oh Lord, he’d made a mess of things.
“If you truly mean that,” she said, “then I’d like to be your friend, Tag.”
Friend. Yes, he definitely needed friends in this new life he was making for himself here in Arizona. But did he need a friend like Emily-Ann? She made his stomach flutter and his mind turn to dreams he’d given up long ago. If he wasn’t careful she could play havoc with his peace of mind.
But for the past ten years he’d managed to keep his heart tucked safely behind an impenetrable wall. There was no reason for him to think Emily-Ann could ever breach it.
“I do truly mean it,” he told her, then smiled and reached for her hand. “Let me walk you to the patio, my new friend.”
She smiled back at him and as they strolled side by side through the shadows, she didn’t pull her hand away from his. And Taggart couldn’t summon the inner strength to let go of her.
Chapter Three
Human anatomy. Learning the subject was far more difficult than Emily-Ann had expected and she wondered for the umpteenth time why she’d ever believed she could acquire a nursing degree. A person needed a high intelligence and laser focus to make it through chemistry, physiology, microbiology and all the other terrifying classes that ended in y. Emily-Ann possessed neither of those attributes. Especially the focus part.
Ever since she’d gone to the Hollister party a little over a week ago, she’d been going around in a goofy daze and trying, without much success, to shake Taggart O’Brien from her mind. She still couldn’t figure out why the man had taken the time to have a conversation with her, much less kiss her.
When she’d walked upon him in the darkness, she’d not intended to strike up a conversation with the man, much less get tangled up in his arms. She’d simply planned to acknowledge his presence with a few words, then move on. But that plan had quickly gone awry and now, days later, her mind was jammed with thoughts and questions about the man.
The Texan Tries Again Page 3
