The Ranger

by Julia Justiss

  “Always. Do you want to climb the rocks? If not, you can sit over here—we used to picnic on that big flat rock—or wander around and fill your bucket with whichever rocks you want to take back to your garden.”

  “I can really take some rocks back? The golden stone is so beautiful!”

  “We only charge by the ton. Help yourself. I’m going to climb to the top. Sort of a ritual. Every time I come here, I have to climb to the top.”

  “Used to be a race with your brothers?” she guessed.

  “Exactly. A king-of-the-mountain thing.”

  “I’ll let you play that one alone. But I will rest here a bit before I collect the rocks.”

  “Take your time.” Nodding to her, he headed toward the tumbled boulders.

  Sighing, Mary settled on the big rock. She watched Brice appear and disappear as he threaded his way upward on the boulders then closed her eyes and turned her face up into an early fall sun that was warming but not oppressive.

  She let her mind drift to a blank, her senses focused on the trickling sound of the water, the soft breeze, the sigh of the wind through the grasses and the leaves of the river birches bordering the stream on the far side. Finding peace, tranquility, and calm—everything she’d been seeking when she left her childhood home.

  Was she finally ready to share her life with someone else again? With a man who let her go at her own pace, who didn’t push, who was a strong, quiet, supportive presence?

  Maybe it was time to let go of the past. She’d come here to build a new life. Could Brice McAllister be part of it?

  Would he want to be?

  By the time Brice climbed back down, Mary had shaken herself out of her pleasant haze and collected a dozen beautiful, golden rocks for her garden. When they saddled up to ride back to the Scott barn, she was feeling confident enough to hold the reins herself, earning an approving nod from Brice.

  “We’ll make you a cowgirl yet, library lady.”

  “I’m not quite ready to rodeo,” she said drily.

  “You’ve got a natural feel for it—seem to instinctively relax and let your body go with the horse. My brother Grant is best of us at that. He was a saddle bronc rider in high school. Could find the rhythm on any horse he drew, which resulted in him being state champion two years running. I’m good, but not that good. But don’t ever tell him I said that.”

  She drew a line over her lips with her finger. “Mum’s the word.”

  But his gaze fastened on her mouth made it tingle. How would it feel if he kissed her?

  Shocked, she looked away. The idea of kissing someone hadn’t entered her mind in ages. She really must be coming out of that state of frozen animation she’d lived in the last three years.

  It would be good to enjoy companionship, attraction. But some of the broken things in her life couldn’t be fixed by peace and serenity. Those things might make it impossible to establish a relationship with any man. Especially one as virile and attractive as Brice McAllister.

  She was still marveling at her reaction when they reached the barn. Brice helped her dismount—making her arms prickle with awareness when he helped her down. That feeling setting off a melting sensation in her belly, she stood by the fence as Brice put away the tack and groomed the horses before turning them out into the paddock again.

  Still unsettled by the strength of her sensual awakening, Mary didn’t want to make idle conversation on the ride back to town. Fortunately, Brice seemed okay with silence.

  A short time later, he parked the truck in front of her cottage. “Safely home, my lady. With no bumps or bruises, even after the ride.”

  He paused, as if he wanted to say something else. Like offer to come in for a glass of wine?

  Did she dare invite him?

  Before she could decide whether to take the plunge, he’d come to her side of the truck to help her down. Her gaze caught on his blue, blue eyes and she felt again that thrilling, alarming urge to kiss him.

  Resisting it, she looked away and took his hand, her fingers tingling.

  “Lunch was great.” Brice retrieved her picnic basket from the back of his truck. “You enjoyed the riding, too, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, it was wonderful,” she said, surprised to realize she meant it.

  “Thanks for coming along,” Brice said. “I really enjoyed showing you around the Triple A.”

  “It was my pleasure.” Better bid him goodbye before she confused herself any more. “Good night, then. Thanks again for asking me.”

  “It was my pleasure.”

  Conscious of his gaze following her, she walked up her front steps, unlocked the door and stepped inside, giving him a little wave after she’d turned the lights on. After waving back, he returned to the driver’s side and hopped back into his truck.

  She watched as he drove away, feeling a mingling of relief that she hadn’t done something stupid—like ask him in for wine and invite an intimacy she didn’t dare initiate—and regret that she had to be wise.

  But a soft voice inside was insisting he was too good an opportunity to pass up. That she might not want to be just friends. That she should make the effort to find out.

  Starting a new life, as they’d agreed, meant she would have to take chances.

  Chapter Ten

  The next morning, Brice was up early, taking a cup of coffee out onto the back porch of the Scott ranch house, gazing at the calming vista of mist rising off the distant creek.

  He’d had lots of time last night to think about the day and how to proceed from there. Mary seemed at times more relaxed, other times tense—like when he touched her. Which confirmed the sparks he felt were mutual. And that she was uneasy about it.

  If she had been in an abusive relationship, she might be wary of physical intimacy. Though there was nothing he wanted more now than to hold her, kiss her, make love to her, he knew more patience was required to let her become fully comfortable with him. Push her too fast, and like a half-broke colt, she’d dump him off and bolt for the hills.

  He’d never had to be this cautious with a lady before. Usually, if he confirmed there was mutual interest, they’d go quickly from first contact to friendship to something more, or after a few dates, decide to part friends. After his initial few years in college, when he’d been content with revolving-door physical relationships with equally freewheeling women, he was no longer satisfied with just a physical hookup. He wanted to be at least friends. His last two relationships, he now realized, he’d been looking for “more” and hadn’t found it, which was why those relationships had ended.

  And Ashley’s two-timing, of course. Which had made him skeptical of a woman’s promises and doubtful about her ability to keep them.

  When he thought of Mary, he didn’t feel that wariness. She was so cautious herself, he’d bet she’d never commit to anything unless she was totally, absolutely sure.

  Nor had he ever had to wait long for physical intimacy, if the attraction was mutual. He had to admit, he wasn’t looking forward to abstinence around a woman he wanted to kiss every time he saw her. But he could control his desire, because the sparks that fizzed between them when they touched promised the eventual passion would be powerful and well worth the wait.

  Now, the question he’d been wrestling with. He’d been using Bunny as a shield to ease Mary into knowing him better. He was pretty sure she now trusted him enough that if trouble came, she would call on him. So he’s accomplished his initial mission.

  But sometime during that mission, his objective had changed. He no longer just wanted to make sure she was protected, he wanted to spend time with her. He liked how he felt when he was around her—grounded, at peace, content. He liked watching her—those lovely dark eyes, her capable hands, and her generous, giving spirit as she entertained Bunny. He liked being with her, doing simple things, like picking vegetables or simmering homemade tomato sauce.

  Who would have thought the swinging bachelor would be stopped in his tracks by a homebody who lo
ved to cook and garden?

  He wasn’t ready to print the engagement announcements yet, but he was determined to continue his slow, easy wooing and see where it led. Because if it led to a lifetime with Mary, he might just be happy enough to drop that harp through a cloud.

  Was it even possible?

  At some point, she would have to trust him enough to move beyond seeing him with Bunny.

  He was encouraged that she hadn’t pulled out of the ranch trip after she learned Bunny wouldn’t be with them all day—but there had been the incentive of seeing the cabin. And she’d seemed to enjoy herself, becoming nervous again only occasionally. But he’d never yet asked her to accompany him alone, just the two of them from start to finish.

  Maybe it was time to test those waters.

  He debated calling her, then decided to text instead. It would give her time to think over what he was asking, not put her on the spot for an immediate answer.

  He had the feeling that if she were forced to reply right then and there, she’d panic and turn him down.

  Taking a deep breath, telling himself not to be too discouraged if he got a negative answer, he texted, Hey, Brice here. Had a great day yesterday. Know you enjoy wine. Hill Country Oktoberfest next weekend. There are tickets for a bus to take you to ones you want, so don’t have to drive, dinner afterward before the drive home. One winery boasts ‘Super Texan,’ supposed to compare to Super Tuscans, my SIL, Harrison says. Like to go?

  He re-read the screen, debating, then thought, What the hell. Time to fish or cut bait, and hit “send.”

  *

  He was driving out to another small town today to talk with the bank manager in relation to his bank fraud investigation. He kept glancing at his phone, but by midday, he still hadn’t heard back from Mary.

  That was good news, he encouraged himself. If she was going to refuse, he would have heard back already. So she must at least be debating accepting.

  It wasn’t until later that afternoon, as he was driving back after finding one promising “questionable” transaction, that he finally heard the ping announcing a text. Too anxious to wait, he pulled over to the side of the road. His hands were actually shaking as he swiped open the phone to read her reply.

  Thanks for the invite. Sounds like fun. When and where?

  He sat back in his seat, giddily delighted. Hot damn, maybe this was going somewhere after all. He blew out a deep breath, telling himself to resist the impulse to text back immediately, like he’d been waiting all day for her response—even though he had. That might seem too much like pressure.

  He’d text her when he got back to the ranch. Then call Harrison, his go-to for wine expertise, and start planning for a day Mary couldn’t help enjoying.

  *

  The following Saturday morning, Brice was up early at the ranch, enthused by anticipation of the day to come and encouraged by the progress they were making on the bank fraud case. He’d gradually been narrowing the net on which of several banks harbored the insider who was arranging the fraudulent transactions. And as in the past, Brice was pretty confident that sooner or later, greed, inattention, or a simple mistake would make the perpetrator slip up and give them the clue they needed to identify and prosecute the culprit.

  Too early to leave, too antsy to sit still, he’d go to the barn and visit the horses. Then come back, shower, put on his “going out” boots and jeans and favorite shirt for luck.

  After stopping by the kitchen to grab some apples, he strode out to the paddock. The horses turned at his approach, nickered in greeting, and ambled over immediately.

  “Yeah, you smell those apples from a mile away, don’t you girl,” he crooned, rubbing Snowflake’s blaze while he fed her the apple—she being the one the others deferred to for treats first. Then with an apple in each hand, he fed Moondust and Lightfoot. Apples consumed, the two mares wandered off, but Lightfoot, his usual mount, lingered while Brice rubbed his neck in the place he most liked.

  “Got a major test today, Big Guy,” he said. “I’m making a move on that gal, but it has to be the right one. Smooth and steady and graceful, like your gait. Cause she might be the one, and I don’t want to blow this. But don’t you tell Grant that. I’d never hear the end of it. The swinging bachelor, falling in love at last.”

  The words that seemed to tumble out without thought brought him up short. Was he falling in love with Mary?

  He didn’t know. He just knew he wanted to be with her, wanted to know everything about her and the mysterious past she never discussed, wanted to protect her. Wanted her to trust him and rely on him.

  He also knew he’d never felt as intense a desire to be emotionally and physically close to a woman as he felt around Mary.

  Maybe he was falling. Surprisingly, that thought didn’t arouse the anxiety he would have anticipated, wary as he’d been after Ashley’s betrayal.

  Sometimes as boys, he and his brothers would take old tractor inner tubes down to the creek, hop in and let the current carry them along, content to ride until they ran aground or decided to go home. Serene, quiet, no pressure.

  Which is how this relationship would have to be. He’d do all he could to put his best foot forward, then wade into the creek and see where the ride took him.

  *

  Two hours later, Brice parked his truck by the car in Mary’s driveway. Elaine, Tom and Bunny were away for the weekend, which meant they’d not have to dodge having their “bestest” friend want to come along with them.

  Just the two of them—for the first time since that frosty meeting in the library.

  Thinking of the library, he frowned. He sure hoped Mary wasn’t going to wear another of her ugly dresses. But then, if she did, he wouldn’t have to worry about other guys ogling her, he thought with a chuckle.

  Then he caught sight of her as she answered the door and his tongue stuck to the roof of his suddenly dry mouth.

  She looked beautiful, her dark hair pinned partially up in the front, left down in the back in a glossy tangle of curls. Red lipstick outlined lips that practically demanded “kiss me,” a sleeveless red blouse in some sort of silky material floated over her torso, its deep vee hinting at her lush cleavage, and she wore narrow, black pencil trousers that accentuated her long legs.

  When she said, “Hi to you, too, Brice,” a little nervously, he realized he’d been just standing there, gaping.

  “You look gorgeous. Or especially gorgeous,” he corrected, exasperated at his clumsiness as she stood aside to let him walk in. “You look wonderful all the time.”

  To his relief, she laughed. “Even in my Old Maid Librarian dresses?”

  “If you think they look like that, why—?” He stopped himself. “So they are a disguise. The dresses and the glasses. To present a nondescript image and keep people from looking closer.”

  She nodded. “Mostly just to keep men from looking closer.”

  He waited hopefully, but she added nothing further, saying, “I hope this outfit is okay for winetasting. I didn’t know how uneven the terrain would be, so I wore pants and sensible shoes.”

  “Most of the places have paved lots and sidewalks, so the terrain shouldn’t be a problem. And thanks for not wearing your Old Maid Librarian dress. Which means—you trust me, right?”

  “I have to admit, I had one of the dresses laid out to wear,” she confessed. “Then I thought you’d already seen me in short shorts and a halter top, so that horse was already out of the barn. A good Texas expression, right?”

  “I approve. The question remains—do you approve? Of me?”

  “I wouldn’t have agreed to go to the festival if I hadn’t decided that I could trust you.”

  Brice felt an enormous rush of relief and a deep sense of gratitude. “I’ll take that as a huge compliment.”

  “You should. It’s been a very, very long time since I trusted anyone of the male gender. But I told myself that if I’m ever to stop just existing, I have to have the courage to move on.” She gave h
im an uneasy smile. “I’ve bet on you to help me.”

  Floored, grateful, Brice promised, “I’ll do anything I can. Since I don’t know what demons you are fighting, I don’t know what to encourage or what to avoid. If I stray into stressful territory, assume it’s unintentional and tell me to stop.”

  “I can do that.”

  And in time, I hope, trust me enough to tell me the whole.

  “Ready?”

  She nodded. “Along with sunscreen and bug spray, I packed a thermos of espresso, some Parmesan crisps and some flat Italian crackers that I like. They are good complements to many types of wine.”

  She picked up a large tote bag from the floor. Brice felt absurdly gratified when, after he held out his arm with a questioning look, she allowed him to take it. Daring to put a hand at the small of her back, he escorted her out to the truck.

  After stowing the bag, he offered a hand to help her climb up the high step. This time, looking at him steadily, a slight smile on her face, she took his hand, clasping it firmly in hers.

  Tingling sensations coursed from the pressure of her fingers all through his body. His heart rate soared and for a moment, he forgot to breathe. Then, with one of those wonderful smiles she usually reserved for Bunny, she said, “Going to help me up?”

  Belatedly remembering what he was supposed to be doing, he nodded, then gave her an assist.

  He shook his head as he walked back to the driver’s side of the truck.

  If she affected him that much, just pressing his hand, his heart might not stand the excitement of full intimacy. But, being a brave soul, he’d be ready and willing to try.

  They were a far piece and a county away from that yet. But having her not just acknowledge, but seem to accept, the sensual attraction between them was an enormous step.

  And a perfect beginning to the day.

  As they drove along, she said, “I checked into how the festival works. We park in Fredericksburg, then take a minivan out to the wineries, right?”

  “Normally it works like that, but the regular tours don’t make any distinction between people getting their first taste of wine, those who know a lot about it, and the younger set that just wants to party. I talked with my sister-in-law Harrison, who’s really knowledgeable about local wines. She made me a list of the ones she thought someone who likes Italian wine would find interesting, then arranged through a friend who knows a friend to have a driver take us just to those places. Two this morning, two this afternoon, rather than the tour that might do quick stops at three or more places morning and afternoon. I hope that will be enough.”