“How? You can’t go anywhere near him or his land.” Rachiah plaited her long black hair into a new thick braid. “You get shot, if you do.”
“Great, pot shots at Cyan today, right?” Cyan snipped, but couldn’t hide her smile. She wasn’t so stuck on a high horse that she couldn’t see the humor in it. True, she was mad at Jareth, but… wait a minute. “Jareth.”
“What?” Sherri’s eyes widened. She glanced from Rachiah to Cyan, then over her shoulder to the slider doors.
“Jareth. He works there. Maybe his guilt is strong enough he’ll give me what I want. Or I can work him around to helping me without him knowing it.” She’d have to arrange a way to see him again without going on Kettleson’s land.
“Uh oh. I’ve seen that look before. Are you sure you don’t just want to see him again? It might make things easier.” Rachiah wrapped a hair tie around the end of her braid and tossed it back over her shoulder.
Cyan’s cheeks warmed. “Of course I want to see him again, to get evidence against his boss.” She stiffened her softening smile.
“Uh huh. I believe you. Don’t you, Sherri?” Rachiah snuggled deeper into the bag and watched Cyan as if she hid something pretty big, her eyes narrowed.
“Seriously. I’m not into guys that shoot me.” Cyan wasn’t interested – she couldn’t be or wouldn’t be. The only thing that interested her was more apologies from him and any secrets about Kettleson he might have.
She’d have to start a journal to document anything she could get from him. The first thing she would note would be the gunshot. He’d admitted needing the money.
That was a start.
The chance to see him again made her stomach warm. No, wait, that wasn’t it. It couldn’t be. More likely the faux meat was getting to her.
Yes, that’s the reason she was going with.
Chapter 11
Jareth
Walking on egg shells while trying to ride a horse was an impossibility, especially when the foreman wasn’t making anything easy. Jareth watched Smith like he knew too much – because he did.
Any moment Smith might slip up and break the rules of the agreement and Jareth had to be ready. Of course, Smith had to have orders for the same thing from Kettleson, making for a very uncomfortable work atmosphere.
Three days after the meeting in Kettleson’s office, Jareth’s duties came down to oiling and cleaning up the tack for future use by guests of the hunting ranch. An easy task that required little to no effort, they were treating him with kid gloves. The job wasn’t one he minded, but he’d be hanged, if he’d be left in there all day while the other men got to go out looking for antler sheds.
Dang, he’d shoved himself into a catch-22 – he was supposed to see Cyan but he had to work too. How was he supposed to get out of there to see her?
He plopped a saddle on the long table and grabbed his oiling cloth. Rubbing circles in the rich brown leather, he couldn’t help his thoughts returning to Cyan, where his mind resided most of the day and night. He needed to go visit her and see how she was doing.
“Darby, you gone to see that girl yet?” Kettleson’s booming demand reverberated off the wood planking and log rafters of the extended barn. “You can’t deliver on our deal, if you’re sitting here all day.”
Jareth set the cloth down and turned to face his malcontent boss. “I have to work, too. Smith has me oiling tack today and tomorrow. You ordered double shifts for the next couple weeks.”
“Until you finish what we agreed on, that’s your job. Smith can oil the tack. You get your butt off to the Burns’ place and get me that guarantee. I’m ready to give you the cash.” The curl of his mustache twitched as he talked. His beady eyes demanded agreement.
Jareth was going to get paid to spend time with Cyan? Could things get any better? “Alright, I’ll head over.”
“I expect progress reports, Darby.” Kettleson eyed him before slamming the door shut behind him.
The day had just started and Jareth hadn’t had time to get dirty or sweaty. He didn’t need to take the time to change. He strode from the barn to the rear of the property and climbed into his truck. What was he supposed to do when he saw her? Crawl to her on hands and knees? That was probably what he should do, to be honest.
Hopefully, she had enough time to cool from being shot in the few days since he’d seen her.
Jareth didn’t know how long one needed to heal. He’d never been on the receiving end of a bullet before. Guilt riddled through his chest, spreading through him like a sticky tar. Poor Cyan.
Each rotation of his tires as he drove down the drive to Burning Bush seemed to twist his gut tighter and tighter. Up the final rise to her place, Jareth had to slow down or he might get sick.
What would she say when she saw him? Would he even get to see her? What if her parents said no? Or her friends?
What if she said no? The very real likelihood that she would toss him out before he got any words out sent an extra corkscrew of pain through his body. He’d never wanted to apologize so badly in all his life.
The sun came out, shafts of light spilling through sporadic clouds, sparkling off the piles and mounds of white snow.
White smoke drifted lazily into the sky from a chimney on the deck.
Jareth parked the truck and climbed the stairs two at a time.
He approached the slider doors cautiously, pulling off his hat and running his fingers through his hair. He stood there, staring at his reflection, unable to knock or ring a bell or anything else – too overcome with nerves.
“No one’s inside, if you’re trying to spy on us.” Her voice startled him, coming from the bend on the deck.
He’d never noticed the turn in the railings as it bent around the front corner of the house. “I’m not trying to spy.”
Following the planks around the side, he stopped at the view of a wide spread out patio-style with benches built into the railing. Couches and chairs in a U-shape welcomed users around a large square coffee table. . A roaring fire in an outdoor fireplace crackled and broke the eerie quiet.
The blue in Cyan’s hair shone brightly in the morning sun. She glanced at him before turning her gaze to stare into the fire. . Her chin rested on her hand, the other arm was secured in a splint, snugged tight to her chest. “What are you doing here, Jareth? Come to finish the job?” Something like regret turned her lips down. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I wanted to say.”
“Why not?” He stepped into the outdoor living room, moving around the vinyl furniture and its plastic covered cushions. Claiming a seat across from her, Jareth didn’t notice the chill from the winter day as the fire’s heat radiated out into a circle, just enough to reach him and Cyan. He glanced at the flames and snorted.
His amusement drew Cyan’s attention. She tilted back her head. “You find this funny? Me? Or my apology?”
Jareth held up his hands, instantly alarmed. “Neither. I was laughing at the outdoor fire. Only the rich feel the need to heat nature.” He pointed smugly at the glass enclosure.
“What’s the difference between this fire and one you have in a campsite?” She didn’t speak angrily, just matter-of-factly as she watched him.
He stopped. What was the difference? A campfire burned for heat and cooking, which seemed to be exactly what the fire on her deck was doing, albeit without any food involved but a grill was set up just beside it and obviously could funnel the heat. Jareth shrugged lamely. “You’re right. I never thought about it like that.” He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, twisting his hat back and forth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t come to argue or fight with you. I feel like that’s all we do.” He couldn’t look her in the face, not when he didn’t know what he’d find.
“Why are you here, Jareth?” She was quiet, contemplative, as if she hadn’t just been shot by him.
He half-expected her father to come running out of the house, waving a gun and screaming.
Why was he there? Because Kettleson sent him
? Not really. Kettleson and Jareth had an agreement and Kettleson had given him the day off, but Jareth had wanted to come back to Cyan since he’d left.
Maybe as much honesty as possible would keep the lies easier to keep in check. “Honestly? I can’t stop thinking about you.” How was that for honesty? He swallowed. Okay, that was a little too honest. He looked at her from the corner of his eyes, worried she might find him weak for admitting that.
Eyes wide, she watched him unabashedly. She didn’t say anything. Her silence encouraged him to continue. “And not just because I… well, because I feel bad for shooting you.” He swallowed. “I wanted to know how you’re doing and… wanted to see you again.” She didn’t make any of it easier on him. What did he expect? He’d known from the beginning she wasn’t like other girls he’d dated. He usually liked them easy to get and easy to leave behind.
Cyan was nothing he’d be able to forget and she certainly wasn’t easy.
Maybe he’d been missing the challenge all this time.
Her quiet voice broke through his roiling thoughts. “I can’t decide if it’s funny or sad how we keep apologizing to each other.” She picked at the edge of the quilt wrapped around her like a shawl. “Or if it’s because we keep doing things to hurt each other.”
The sadness in her voice sobered Jareth, bringing his fidgeting to a halt. He didn’t have anything to say to that. The fact that they continued hurting each other, intentionally or not, made him sad as well.
Cyan cleared her throat. “I noticed you’re always driving your truck. You don’t ride horses? Or don’t like them or something? All the guys on Kettleson’s place seem to have horses.”
He settled back, the plastic creaking as he moved. A change in topic, how refreshing and almost like an olive branch. “I love horses. They’re beautiful and great to work with. I ride them around wherever I’m working, but they’re always loaners. I don’t own one myself.” Jareth met her gaze, the intensity of his words burning in his cheeks. “I’m a one-horse man.”
“What happened?” She cocked her head, her brow furrowed as she watched him.
Jareth didn’t want to talk about it, but a little bit of vulnerability wouldn’t hurt him either. For some reason, with Cyan, he wanted to talk about who he was. “Lily. My horse. Ah, she was gorgeous, with a silvery gray coat and a long white mane and tail.”
He sighed. “I came home from school my senior year and my parents had to tell me they’d sold her and the other two horses we had.” He shook his head, tamping down the sense of loss thoughts of Lily always brought up. “They felt bad, but overall it was for the best. My dad lost his livestock to wolves and the economy wasn’t making things easy to recover. Meat prices dropped huge around that time.” Lily had been the best horse he’d ever met. Replacing her would be impossible. He’d never seen another horse like her.
“That’s terrible. Wolves killed your dad’s livestock?” Of course, she focused on the wolves.
He forced a smile, even as he tried not to remembering the lost heartsick pain of that kid he’d been. “Yep, it was a pretty strong pack. They’ve been up here longer than you think.” He couldn’t guarantee they were Gray wolves,- but his dad had known it was wolves. The destruction of his life was enough for him to not worry about their endangered status.
“I understand your desire to shoot them.” She offered him a slight side grin, one that understood the irony in their situation. Her humor faded. “What happened to Lily? Tell me there’s a good part in there somewhere.”
“I have no idea where she’s at. By now, she’s most likely dead. Back then I was too much of a coward to even ask who or what they sold her to. Best buyer dollar would probably have sent her to a food mill, but I try not to think too hard about that.” His friend’s dad had bought livestock and turned around to resell it to food mills.
“That doesn’t make you a coward. Shows how brave you had to be to survive a loss like that. I’m sorry. That couldn’t have been easy.” She drew her feet up under her, unaware how the sun made her hair darker and her skin fairer. “Why only one horse though?”
Jareth had a hard time looking anywhere but at her. “I’m not sure. I just loved her so much, I can’t love another one like that. Why try, right?” He pointed at her hair, unable to hold back his curiosity. “My turn. Why blue?”
Her startled laughter burst from her like sparkly glitter. “You don’t like my blue streaks?”
He didn’t try hiding his surprise. “Actually, I do. A lot. I just… usually dyed hair isn’t my type.”
“Oh, so now I’m trying out for a spot as one of your types?” She chuckled. “You must have them lining up, if you think I find that appealing.”
“Confidence. I think you find my confidence appealing.” He winked and rested an elbow on the arm of the couch. Man, she was gorgeous when she relaxed.
“Self-absorbed might be a better word for it.” She glanced down into her lap, then lifted serious eyes toward him. “What do you want, Jareth? What brought you over here? Aren’t you supposed to be working?”
Her forthrightness snapped him back to what he was doing. Reality brought a wave of sickness to crash over him. Guilt compounded as he tried correlating her current attitude with how he’d expected her to be – spitting mad. “Right, well, I know I shot… you… and I doubt you’ve completely forgiven me. But, I would like to take you to town, maybe have dinner? I don’t know if you’re busy or anything, but I would really like to make it up to you.” He’d forgotten to ask if anyone else was there. He glanced uneasily toward the slider doors and the large windows to the living room.
“You want to take me out? Do you ask all the girls you shoot to hang out?” She grinned, her relaxed manner contagious. “I might consider it, but I need help getting ready. Sherri and Rachiah went to town to get more groceries.”
“Where’re your parents? Do you want me to get your mom?” Jareth stood, holding out his hand. He’d gladly carry her inside, if that’s what she wanted.
She accepted his hand, standing carefully and wincing as she moved. “They’re in Hawaii until the holiday. If you really want me to go with you, you’ll have to help me.”
Jareth jerked back. “Wait, you don’t need a shower or anything, do you?” He was interested, but that was moving too fast, too soon when he wasn’t even sure where she fit in his head.
Or his heart.
She stared at him for a second before something clicked and her laughter echoed off the log siding of the home. “Oh my gosh, no. You wish. I do not need help even getting dressed.” She pointed to her hair, leading him into the house and up long stairs. “I need help with my hair and makeup. Are you up for the challenge?”
Hair and makeup? His manliness shrank into a tight fetal position. The white strap of her sling shored up his reserve to make things up to her. “Sure. I can do that.” Hopefully, she didn’t wear too much makeup or she’d look like a clown within the hour. “I don’t think you need makeup though. You’re naturally gorgeous.”
She stopped at the top of the stairs and faced him. “Do you really think that? Or are you trying to get out of helping me?” She didn’t ask it mean, but more out of curiosity.
“I’m fine helping you. I meant what I said though, you don’t need makeup.” He would’ve already thought she had all that on with how clear her skin was and how bright her eyes were.
“Thank you. Maybe we’ll skip the makeup then. I still need to clip my hair up, can you help with that?” She turned and led him deeper into the home, the trip feeling like a trek into a different country with Indian beads hanging from the walls and Oriental tapestries lying on the floors.
“Of course.” He’d love to touch her hair again, in all its silkiness.
He didn’t mind what they did, as long as he got to spend more time with her.
After a while, he’d address the whole Kettleson thing. They’d confronted the shooting, but not what she was going to do about it.
He had to give
it time, plus, springing questions on her would take all the fun out of getting to know her. If he was getting paid to spend time with her, he might as well make it worth his while.
Chapter 12
Cyan
Cyan shivered. She couldn’t get rid of her goosebumps. The dang things covered her body since Jareth brushed her hair and clipped it up in back.
Sitting in his truck next to him, as they drove to Whitefish, she couldn’t help glancing at his hands on the steering wheel. They were strong, sturdy, with a slight dusting of dark hair on the backs of his knuckles toward his wrists.
The man continued to surprise her. His frankness on the deck had tripped her up and she’d willingly matched him candor for candor. But so close to him and after his gentle touch on her hair, she didn’t know what to say. The ride passed quietly, but comfortably as his fingers tapped on the brown leather wheel cover in time with the western song on the radio.
They passed a green sign on the state highway that read “Whitefish three miles”.
“What do you want to do?” Jareth glanced at her and then back at the road.
She turned her attention out her window. He hadn’t thought far on their day, had he? She wasn’t sure what he was about, but this was his idea. She didn’t know what to do with him. She hadn’t dated in a long while and her idea of fun didn’t usually gel with cowboys and their rodeo dreams.
He turned the radio down. “I was thinking we could walk around downtown, until I saw how much it hurt you to stand. Maybe we could go to a movie and have an early dinner or something.”
Jareth didn’t cease to amaze her. He’d noticed that she hurt when she stood? She thought she’d hidden that pretty well. If he paid close enough attention to her, would he know when she was trying to get information out of him? How far did her frankness go with him?
Forbidden Trails: A Clearwater County Romance (The Montana Trails Series Book 2) Page 8
