Mulberry Moon

by Catherine Anderson

  Squatting beside him, she trailed her fingertips through his sun-silvered fur, thinking of his master with a troubled frown knitting her brow. Ben unsettled her, and she couldn’t kid herself about why. She was attracted to him. No, that didn’t describe how she felt around him. Turned on, hot for him. Brutal honesty was what she needed from herself, not toned-down excuses. If she intended to keep her life on course, she needed to bring these feelings to a screeching halt. And if that was impossible, she had to make damned sure he never found out.

  She rested her palm on Finn’s back, thinking how easily she’d come to care about the little guy. She couldn’t allow herself to do the same with his master.

  * * *

  The next morning was summer bright with a light, balmy breeze that ruffled Sissy’s hair as she tended to her chickens and turned them out into their small but reinforced run. Sissy watched them stretch their legs, noting how crowded they still were. That would be the perfect excuse for her to give Ben for canceling the drive to see the waterfall. On the other hand, the hens could survive another few hours of bumping shoulders occasionally, and an outdoor excursion on such a beautiful day tempted her almost beyond bearing. Ben had said he’d work on the run when they got back late that afternoon. He might even get it finished before dark.

  Waffling back and forth about whether she should go or not, Sissy found herself doing the dinner prep when she returned to the café. She guessed that meant she was going, even though she hadn’t completely made up her mind yet. Watching the clock, she felt the knots in her stomach grow tighter and tighter. At a quarter before seven, her usual opening time, she gave herself a hard mental shake. Did she want to visit the waterfall or not? Yes. So what if she felt nervous? She wasn’t going on a date. Ben wouldn’t expect sex, or demand it of her. Well—she hoped not, since he’d advised her to call her own shots. With a black Magic Marker, she wrote a note that read, CLOSED DUE TO EMERGENCY. WILL REOPEN AT FIVE FOR DINNER. Then, with quivering fingers, she taped the sign on her front-door window.

  As always Christopher arrived at eight sharp, and Sissy greeted him by opening the door. “Ignore the sign. You’re a special customer, and I’m serving you breakfast before I leave.”

  The old man tottered inside, using his cane to steady himself. “Well, I appreciate that. But what’s the emergency?”

  Sissy couldn’t bring herself to lie. “I’m escaping for the day to have a picnic. I’ve never seen Crystal Falls—the waterfall, not the town.”

  Christopher seated himself at his usual booth. “Oh, you’ll love it. My wife used to drag me up there once a month all summer long.” He smiled with fond memories. “I enjoyed it as much as she did, but I grumped at her about it anyhow. Made her appreciate me more.”

  Sissy laughed. “You stinker, you.” She went to the kitchen for his breakfast. After setting his food before him, she took a seat across from him to chat while he ate. “What other outdoor things did you do with your wife?”

  Christopher regaled her with stories about their fishing trips. After finishing his meal, he chuckled as he struggled to get up from the booth. “Never did get her to put a worm on a hook. I had to do it for her while she closed her eyes.”

  Sissy ran his credit card, then walked with him to the door. “I’ll be open again for dinner.”

  He stepped out onto the sidewalk. “Well, if you’re not, I’ve got frozen dinners to fall back on. You go and have a good time, and if you want to linger, which I always did, do it. It’s good for the soul, and my walks here are good for my heart, whether I get dinner or not.”

  Sissy locked up behind him. Then she lowered all the window blinds before collecting his plate and flatware to stow them in the dishwasher. She’d just finished wiping off the booth table when Ben entered from the back. “Well, are we on? Or have you chickened out?”

  For a split second, Sissy almost did exactly that. He looked fabulous in a brown Western shirt, collar open and sleeves rolled back over his muscular forearms. Physically, she was at a dangerous disadvantage with Ben. Memories of how badly things had gone for her in the past when she trusted men flashed through her mind.

  But she pushed those thoughts aside, remembered that Christopher had said it would be good for her, and took a deep breath to bolster her courage. “Nope. I’m all ready to go.”

  His burnished face creased in a grin. “Do you have another light jacket that Finn hasn’t destroyed? The falls are at a higher elevation. On a day like this, it should be warm up there, but it’s better to always go prepared.”

  “Yes, I’ve got another one. I’ll grab it as we leave.”

  “Fantastic.”

  He followed her down the hall, pausing while she grabbed a coat off a hook and then got her keys so she could lock up. Finn waited on the porch and bounced around with excitement when he saw Sissy.

  “No,” she said with a laugh as she secured the building, “I didn’t bring you food.”

  As Ben descended the steps beside her, she cast him a questioning look. “You said you’d bring the picnic stuff. I hope you remembered that three of us will be eating.”

  Ben chuckled. “Of course I remembered. While I made sandwiches, he drooled all over my boots, begging for bites.” They walked toward his truck. “I made three extra for him. You’ll be slumming it, I’m afraid. I stopped at Flagg’s last night for deli potato salad and other stuff, nothing as good as what you whip up at the café.”

  “Well, I happen to like potato salad and sandwiches. Plus, it’ll be nice to eat something I didn’t make for a change.”

  Ben opened the rear door on the driver’s side to let Finn leap up on the backseat. Then he arched a brow at Sissy as she circled the front of his truck. “You want a boost up? The floorboards are pretty high off the ground.”

  “I’ll try it on my own first.” When Sissy opened the passenger door, she wished she was taller. But by grabbing a handle made for pulling oneself up and jumping, she got in by herself. “Wow. It is high off the ground.”

  Ben smiled as he started the engine. “Running boards would help. But I use my truck on the ranch. They’d get hung up on something, sure as the world, and get ripped off.”

  They fastened their seat belts, and Ben drove around Marilyn’s yard to reach Main Street. Sissy settled back to enjoy the ride. Her earlier anxiety had vanished. Finn, apparently accustomed to using the passenger seat, leaped over the wide console and made himself comfortable on her lap.

  “Finn!” Ben scolded.

  “It’s fine.” Sissy looped her arms around the dog. “We’re buddies now. I don’t mind holding him.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m positive.”

  * * *

  Ben kept his attention on his driving as he maneuvered through town. Even so, he was acutely aware of Sissy beside him, fussing over the pup and whispering things to the dog that he couldn’t make out over the sound of the engine. Allowing himself one quick glance, he saw an expression of pure bliss on Finn’s face. The two of them truly had bonded. It felt strange to Ben, because most women he’d dated would be complaining about all the hair Finn was getting on their clothes and flapping a hand in front of their faces because he had dog breath.

  Ben smiled slightly. Yes, it felt strange, but it also felt right. As he circled the town center and turned onto Huckleberry, sudden inspiration struck him. “Would you mind if I stop off at my place for a second? You need a hat to keep the sun out of your eyes.”

  “No, I don’t mind. I should have thought to grab one.”

  Instead of taking the Periwinkle Lane exit when he reached the man-made creek overpass, which would lead due east, he took the Bridge Road exit, which went straight to his ranch. He liked this woman. He liked her a lot. Before he allowed those feelings to deepen, he needed to see how she reacted to cows, horses, pigs, and manure. He knew for sure that she liked chickens and dogs, but if she
was afraid of or didn’t like big animals, it was a deal breaker for him. Being a rancher or farmer ran in his blood. He’d been raised around critters. He sometimes thought loving the smells on his ranch had been stamped on his DNA. Probably not, looking at it rationally. He only knew he couldn’t change who and what he was, and though he’d thrown a wide net to find a woman who could accept that, he’d been unsuccessful.

  Sissy gasped when he turned into his graveled driveway. “Oh, my gosh!” she cried. She gazed out over his land, taking in the tidy exterior of his refurbished farmhouse, the barn, the arena, and the fenced pastures that seemed to stretch forever, even to Ben. “You own all of this? It’s gorgeous.”

  Ben parked beside his house. “It’ll take me a while to find the straw hat my mom always uses when she comes out. Would you like to come in?”

  Sissy’s attention was fixed on the horses that were enjoying the morning sunlight in the paddocks outside their stalls. “I’d rather visit the horses. Would you mind? I’ve seen horses from a distance, but never up close.”

  Ben pointed. “See those last two fenced areas holding the gray and the dun? Those horses aren’t mine. I’m working some bad habits out of them. All the other ones are safe. You can say hi to them through the fences if you want.”

  Sissy popped out her side of the truck as if she’d just been issued free tickets to a petting zoo. Finn, delighted to have one of his favorite people visit his world, ran in circles around her as she speed-walked toward the paddocks. Ben kept his gaze locked on Sissy. Either she didn’t realize she might step in what Ben referred to as a poop bomb, or she didn’t care. He couldn’t help but grin. When she got back, she’d have to clean the shit off her shoes before he let her back in his truck.

  He took his time finding his mom’s straw hat. Okay, he admitted to himself. This is a test, and I’m probably a bastard for not warning her to watch her step. But I’m tired of hooking up with fussy women who reject my world and want me to wear chinos with polished loafers. Ben recalled the girlfriend who’d given him a gift certificate for his birthday to get a manicure and have his back waxed. He shuddered at the memory. He filed his nails and kept them clean. As for his back, what hair grew there had roots, and getting it all jerked out had hurt like a son of a bitch. He’d called an end to that relationship in short order.

  He found the hat and moseyed back outside. He expected to find Sissy already back at the truck. Instead she was jerking up handfuls of grass and feeding it to his horses. He walked slowly in her direction. He could hear her musical voice as she chatted away to his geldings and the red roan mare.

  When Sissy saw Ben approaching, she cried, “They are so beautiful! Their noses feel like velvet.” She grabbed up more grass for the mare, which was in a separate pen because she was with foal, and Ben didn’t want to risk her getting kicked in the belly. Horses did that to one another occasionally. “This one’s a girl, isn’t it?”

  “Well, now, you tell me,” Ben said with a smile.

  “It’s a girl. She’s daintier than the boys. Look at her head.”

  Ben normally looked lower to determine the sex of a horse, but Sissy was right. Katie did look daintier. But she was still hell on wheels when cutting cows. All the horses had been bred to be athletes and could go rump down to turn on a dime, but the mare was just a bit quicker.

  “She’s my best cutter,” Ben told her.

  “What’s she cut?”

  Ben suppressed a chuckle. “Cows. Only it’s not like it sounds. I have forty beeves out yonder, and if I need to work on one, all I have to do is point Katie at it, and lickety-split, she separates that one steer from all the others and herds it into a chute with a head catch.”

  Sissy gave Katie a final stroke along her neck and turned away. “Do you have any girl cows?”

  Ah, so she liked girls. Ben could understand that. He liked them, too—especially this one. He led her toward the cow pasture. He was surprised when Martha, the she-monster, ambled over to the pipe fencing and poked her nose out through the slats to get it scratched. Sissy didn’t flinch. She just doled out some petting.

  “She is so cute. I love her eyes.”

  Ben didn’t ask how Sissy knew Martha was a girl. The bovine had dropped a calf last spring, and her bag, though smaller now that the heifer no longer suckled as much, was still prominent. “She’s my mean cow. My hired hand calls her the She-Bitch.”

  Sissy didn’t retreat, and that settled it for Ben. She’d passed the test. Maybe it would work between them, or maybe it wouldn’t, but at least he knew she liked animals, big or small. As he had suspected, when they returned to his truck, she had to rub her sneakers clean on the grass that grew in haphazard clumps between his house and the outbuildings. Once in the truck, she tossed the straw hat he’d left lying on her seat into the back to make room for Finnegan to ride on her lap.

  As Ben started the engine, she cried, “Darn it. I should have looked at your chicken coop.”

  “Maybe another time. If we linger here any longer, we won’t be able to enjoy the falls for as long as we want.”

  She settled against the seat with Finn in her arms as Ben drove back to the overpass to take Periwinkle Lane east. He knew the roads like the back of his hand and had visited the falls many times. Once out of town, he relaxed behind the wheel and enjoyed the scenery, mountain slopes of green pine boughs peppered with deciduous trees with leaves that were turning autumn brown and orange.

  Then he noticed that Sissy was no longer talking. He glanced over and saw that she’d tightened her arms around Finn and that her shoulders were rigid with tension. He guessed that it had just sunk home that he was taking her into state and federal wilderness land, and she was alone with him. Judging by her stiffness, he thought she was growing nervous, possibly even frightened.

  He saw a wide spot up ahead and slowed down. As he pulled over and stopped, Sissy shot a wary look at him. “Why are you stopping?” she asked in a thin voice.

  “You look like you’re wound up tighter than a clock. I just want to be sure you still want to go. I can turn around here and take you back to town. We can picnic on your back porch, or like I said, I can inhale all the food while I work on your run.”

  “How silly would that be?”

  Pretty damned silly, Ben thought, but he wasn’t about to say so. Something really nasty had happened to this woman. Maybe more than once. She didn’t trust him any further than she could throw him. “It’s even sillier to keep going if you can’t relax and enjoy yourself,” he settled for saying. “That’s the whole point. Right? To forget about work, visit a beautiful place, and have a picnic.”

  She released a taut breath. “You’re right. That is the whole point.”

  Ben expected her to add, “Just take me home.” Instead she lifted her chin and said, “So let’s do it. I’ll relax. I’ll have fun.”

  It sounded to Ben as if she were giving herself a pep talk. And that saddened him. She had to work at relaxing—and at trusting him. The realization made him nearly as nervous as she was. What if he said the wrong thing? Or made a sudden move that she interpreted as aggressive? Up at the falls, which were surrounded by nothing but wilderness, he’d have a devil of a time finding her if she panicked and ran off into the woods. Well, maybe not. Finn adored her, and he had a good nose on him.

  Ben pulled back out onto the highway. To fill the silence, he began playing tour guide, pointing out landmarks. “That’s Cougar Rock. I climbed it once and saw no cougar, so I don’t know how it got its name.”

  She leaned forward, being careful not to unseat Finn. “You climbed that? It’s nearly straight up.”

  Ben chuckled. “It’s surprising what Mystic Creek boys will do during the summer. At least we never got bored. I went through a rock-climbing stage.” A few curves later, Ben said, “That’s Sky High Point. I used to hike up there as a teen. It’s a great place to see wildl
ife. One time we boys lay on our bellies to watch a beaver dam in the creek. We were quieter than church mice, hoping to see a beaver.”

  “Did you?”

  “Oh, yeah. A great big male with long teeth who waddled up behind us. He scared us so bad that one of my buddies wet his pants. We ran like scalded dogs, tripping over logs, running into trees. In retrospect, I think we all lost our minds. Beavers aren’t known for their speed. When it was all said and done, we’d inflicted far more injury on ourselves than the beaver could have. Ah, well, you live and learn. Now I know I could outrun a pissed-off beaver at a fast walk.”

  Sissy giggled, and with a mental sigh of relief, Ben decided she was going to be okay at the falls alone with him.

  * * *

  Sissy had never seen anything so gorgeous as Crystal Falls. The creek was about thirty feet wide, and the water cascaded over a rock ledge in a magnificent rush that ended in a pool of churning foam that eddied out into depths so clear she could see the rocks far beneath the surface. Beyond that deep pool, the creek grew more shallow, calling to her to take off her shoes, roll up her jeans, and go wading—something she’d never been allowed to do as a kid and hadn’t had time for as an adult.

  Ben spread a blanket on the grassy bank just far enough away to avoid the mist that spewed up from the collision of water. When they sat down, he placed the picnic cooler between them and then added an oversize basket to increase the barrier. Sissy realized that he was trying to make her feel safe. Instead she felt embarrassed. Ben hadn’t brought her here with nefarious intentions. On an intellectual level, she knew that. Emotionally, not as much.

  As her chagrin faded, she bit back a smile. The buffer he’d created between them wouldn’t stop a man with Ben’s strength and agility. He could be over it and on top of her in a split second. But the fact that he’d tried to create a separation between them told her that jumping her wasn’t in his game plan, if he even had a plan, which she now doubted. He just wanted her to see how spectacular nature could be and enjoy a day off with him.