Sam exhaled. “If I drink my beer, will you go away?”
“Want to go for a ride?”
“What I want is to be left alone.”
“Come on, slacker. Let’s go pound some rocks out back. Unless you want to head out to the garage and finish up that project of yours?”
Sam glared. “I don’t want to do a damn thing. I want to be left alone.” Then, because it was the sort of thing they never said to each other, he added, “Please.”
Wyatt studied him for a minute, then said, “You’re not going to do anything stupid, right?”
“I’m going to play Zelda for the next twelve hours straight.” Until today became tomorrow.
His buddy set his beer on a precarious stack of magazines on a side table. “Are you sure?”
“It’s tradition.” The one day a year he let himself crawl back down into the hole.
“Doesn’t mean it’s a good one.”
“It works for me.” Sam set his mostly full beer aside. “Seriously. Thanks for checking on me, but I need space more than I need a babysitter.”
He didn’t know what part of that got through, but Wyatt finally gave a slow nod. “Call if you change your mind. Or just come on over. It’s chili night.”
“Will do,” Sam said, though he wouldn’t. He just wanted to get back to his game. Once Wyatt’s footsteps faded away, though, and he heard the lock turn in the kitchen door—very funny—he had a hard time settling back into his groove. “Oh, come on!” he growled when he stumbled over a grave and lost points to a ghost. “He didn’t even touch me!” But the damage was done, and the next hit finished him off.
GAME OVER.
Cursing, he shoved to his feet and used the remote to kill the screen. Suddenly needing to move, like his body had just figured out he’d been on his ass for way too long, he headed out through the kitchen to the side yard, where Yoshi stood by the barn with his head up and his ears pricked. “Hey, buddy. You want to cover some ground? I’m sick of sitting still.”
* * *
“There’s the ranch!” Christy Trimmer tugged on her father’s arm. “See? And there’s Gran out on the porch, waving. She must be waiting for us to make the salad!”
Sloan Trimmer patted his young daughter’s head, meeting Danny’s smile with one of his own. “I see her, pumpkin. Do you want to run ahead and tell her what we’ve got?”
“Do you remember all the names?” Danny put in.
The little girl—curly-haired and happy, with a seemingly limitless supply of energy—screwed up her face in concentration. “We’ve got dandelion leaves, wild onions, amaranth, and yellow sss . . .” She pursed her lips. “Yellow satisfy?”
“Close! It’s salsify.”
“Salsity.”
“Sal-si-fy.” When Christy repeated the syllables, Danny gave her a high five. “Okay, go on. We’ll catch up in a minute. And no running near the horses!” She had to shout the last couple of words, because Christy was off like a shot, her gathering bag bouncing furiously with every pounding stride.
“Hope Gran doesn’t mind bruised onions,” Sloan drawled. Lean and Texan, the handsome businessman obviously adored his wife and two daughters—so much so that he was vacationing at a dude ranch, despite being violently allergic to horses. Which meant he and Danny had gotten to know each other pretty well over the past four days.
“They’ll still taste good,” she assured him. Besides, she had the bulk of their haul in her own pack.
“I’ve never done a hike-and-gather before.” He shook his head in admiration. “It’s amazing how many things out there actually have some nutritional value.”
“Like those wild strawberries!” added Liza May—a bubbly salesclerk from Tucson who had opted to hike today so her rear end could have a break from the saddle. “They didn’t taste anything like the ones at the stores near me.”
Behind her, the other two members of their party—Liza May’s equally bubbly friend Dee, and Stockbroker Simon from California—nodded in happy agreement. Despite having been out for a solid six hours, walking along the river almost all the way to Blessing Valley and back, the hikers were in high spirits, excited about the idea of consuming the edible plants Danny had helped them find along the trail.
“Just remember,” she cautioned, “there are plenty of other things out there that’ll make you seriously ill, or worse, and some of the good plants look an awful lot like the toxic ones, and vice versa. So no nibbling unless you’re absolutely sure!”
“Only when you’re there to tell us it’s okay!” Dee promised. “Which means you’re going to have to give us your phone number so we can send you pictures and stuff.”
Danny pulled the main gathering bag from her knapsack, and held it out. “Who wants to bring the rest of our harvest in to Gran? She said she’d show folks how to prepare our greens, if you’re interested.”
“Ooh!” Liza May snagged the bag. “I’m in!” She whirled away, with Dee bouncing beside her. After a moment, Stockbroker Simon followed.
Tipping a straw cowboy hat that would never get within twenty feet of a horse, Sloan drawled, “It’s been a pleasure as always, Miz Traveler. See you tomorrow down by the boat shed at eleven?”
“I’ll be there!”
As he headed after the others, she hung back, enjoying both the feeling of a job well done and a moment of quiet in the midst of the hustle-bustle of the ranch.
“Danny, hey!” Krista came out of the barn, cradling the baby’s sling with one hand and waving with the other. “You’re back! How did it go?”
“Good, I think.” Danny offered Abby a finger. “Hey, kiddo. That’s a good grip you’ve got there.”
“All the better to hold the reins with, my dear.” Krista grinned. “So . . . Hunt Your Own Salad Day? That was brilliant. Seriously genius. You should’ve heard the riders talking about it out on the trail, trying to figure out what your group was going to come up with for dinner.”
“Onions, some wild berries, and lots of furry greens that I’m sure Gran will turn into something awesome.”
“You’re going to eat with us, right?” Seeing the answer in Danny’s eyes, Krista urged, “Oh, come on. Stay. How can you bag out on your own salad? If you’re worried about making the ride home after dark, you’re welcome to crash in the apartment over the barn.”
It wasn’t the first night she had made the offer. But it was the first time Danny was tempted. Still, it had been a long day, and she had an hour or so commute on the ATV ahead of her. “Rain check?”
“Sure thing. How about Saturday? Jenny is dying to reconnect, Shelby wants to meet you, and I need to get into town to pick up a few things for the wedding. We’ll make a day of it. I can get Mom and Gran to cover orientation for the new guests, and Abby can help Wyatt in the barn.” She gave the cloth-covered lump a fond pat. “Us girls will grab lunch, hit a few stores, maybe find some trouble to get into. . . . How does that sound?”
“Is sounds good, actually. Fun.”
“Perfect! We’ll leave around ten, right after the airport shuttle rolls out.”
“It’s a date.” Danny gave the baby a little finger wiggle. “And I’m out of here.”
“You sure you don’t want to stay for a Trailside Salad?”
“Is that what you’re calling it?”
“Gran figured it sounded better than ‘Stuff We’re Pretty Sure Is Edible.’”
“Hey! I’m a hundred percent sure. But I’m still leaving.” Danny headed for the ATV and fired up the engine, returning Krista’s wave before she headed out along the two-lane dirt track that led up the ridgeline. And unlike the first few days of her stint as Ed Skye’s replacement trekking boss, it didn’t feel like a huge weight fell away when she passed the marker stones.
Instead, she felt . . . normal. And that had been a long time coming.
The s
low summer evening stretched the shadows around her as she rolled back to Blessing Valley, her mind pleasantly empty. There was no sign of the mustangs near the canyon mouth, suggesting that they were watering down at the other end of the valley. Or so she thought, until she rolled into camp and saw a spotted horse grazing on the other side of the river. “Well,” she said as she killed the engine. “What are you doing here?”
“He’s with me,” a voice said from the shadows beneath the awning. “Or maybe it’s the other way around.” Sam stood and came out into the light. He was wearing a T-shirt, worn jeans, and a stubble shadow, and there was a layer of strain evident beneath his greeting. “We were in the area. Hope you don’t mind.”
“No, of course not. It’s good to see you.” Which was the absolute truth. It suddenly didn’t matter that she had been going hard since dawn, or that she had come back to the valley for some alone time. She had wanted him there, she realized, on some level had imagined him waiting for her like this, though without the sadness in the back of his eyes. “Are you hungry? I was going to put together some dinner and watch the sun go down.”
“I’d rather walk a bit. Would you mind?”
She had spent most of the day hiking and had been looking forward to a glass of wine and a pretty sunset. The wine could wait, though, and the sunset would follow them. “Come on.” She held out a hand. “We can visit Jupiter and the herd.”
* * *
Sam hadn’t planned on heading for Blessing Valley, and once he got there and found the campsite deserted, he hadn’t really meant to wait for Danny. But the first sight of her coming up the trail toward him on her four-wheeler had loosened something inside him, and as they hiked along the riverbank, he was glad he’d stuck around. “Have a good run on the ATV?” he asked, breaking the companionable silence.
“I feel a little bad burning the gas, but it’s a pretty commute.”
He glanced over. “Come again?”
“I’m working over at Mustang Ridge now.” She dimpled adorably. “Ed Skye wanted to help rebuild the Sears house, but Krista needed him to entertain the guests who opt out of riding. The next thing I knew, I was strapping on my hiking boots, updating my GPS, and speed-reading my copy of Edible Plants of the Plains.”
“You sound happy about it.”
“I’m enjoying it more than I expected.” She turned away from the riverbank to follow a narrow game trail. “This way.” There was a new lightness to her, a confident bounce in her step.
Intrigued by the changes, he followed her up a rocky incline to a flat ledge that hung suspended about halfway up the canyon wall. Blessing Valley spread out in front of them, rugged and green, and a handful of horses stood at the edge of the river.
As he moved up beside her, she whispered, “Aren’t they beautiful?”
He stared at her profile. “Gorgeous.”
Still watching the horses, she said, “So. Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”
“I’m fine.”
“I’m sure you are. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t something wrong.” She tapped her own forehead. “Takes a tough guy to know a tough guy. Tough guy.”
Down below, horses milled and shifted by the river’s edge, and several more drifted out of the trees. He recognized Jupiter by her dark gray dapples and the way she studied her surroundings before she moved to the water’s edge and stretched her neck to drink, trusting the others to keep watch, if only briefly.
Attention caught by a pearlescent glint in his peripheral vision, Sam crouched, sifted his fingers through the chewed-up schist at the edge of the ledge they were standing on, and came up with a pinkie-size sliver of pink quartz. Thin and translucent, it had a thick white crack running through the middle, shaped like a lightning bolt.
Rising, he held it out. “It’s not perfect. Still pretty, though.”
Her fingers brushed his palm as she took it. She studied the flawed stone, then him. “You’ve got a good eye.”
“That, and decent luck when it comes to finding gems. Not so much with other stuff.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked out over the river, then surprised himself by asking, “How much did Gran tell you about my dad?”
If she was startled by the change of subject, she didn’t show it. “She said he was a popular guy, and that the only thing he loved more than prospecting was you.”
Ah, hell. Chest gone tight, he said, “And my mom. He loved her more than anything, I think. He never remarried, never even really dated. He used to talk to her all the time, too, like she was still there. On special days—my birthday, their anniversary—we’d go to the cemetery, leave a couple of our best stones, and tell her what we’d been up to. Just checking in, you know? Usually, it was all about how I was doing in school, or the jobs he’d been doing in the shop. Then we found the diamonds.”
“And everything changed,” she said. Because of course she knew firsthand how fast the world could shift on its axis, for better or worse.
He nodded. “Things sped up, got complicated. Dad and I started the business, got into the eco-friendly R and D side of things, broke ground at Windfall. . . . After a while, though, it started feeling like it was all complicated, all business, so we decided to buy ourselves a couple of presents to go along with the work. I designed a game room for the new house, with plenty of bells and whistles, and he decided to upgrade his motorcycle from an old beater to a new Harley.”
Danny’s quick indrawn breath said she’d made the connection.
“I was a stupid kid,” he continued. “High on striking it rich. I told him he had to buy the biggest, baddest machine in the place, the new V-Rod, instead of the touring bike he had his eye on.” One that would’ve ridden more like the bike he’d been tooling around on for years. “He’d only had it for a week when he missed the corner at Hangman’s Curve and went over the guardrail.” His voice was flat, his blood gone cold. “I don’t even know why he was on that road. He always told me to stay off it, that it was a killer.” He looked over at Danny, pretty sure he didn’t deserve the sympathy he saw in her big brown eyes. “That was eight years ago today.”
Suddenly, his watch gave the little double beep that said Right this moment eight years ago, Officer Blundt called to say, “I’m sorry to tell you this, son, but there’s been an accident.” Always before, the beep-beep had brought him back to that moment—the wrenching grief, the disbelief.
Not this year, though. This year, the beep-beep spurred him to action, telling him to get on with it and take what he wanted. What he thought they both wanted. So, as the noise faded, he leaned in and kissed Danny like it made all the sense in the world. Which it suddenly did.
* * *
Sam’s lips were firm, his cheeks and chin stubbled, and those big, beautiful hands came up to frame Danny’s face as his lips claimed hers and his tongue slid in to touch, taste. Take. He tasted of grief and a sharp edge of loneliness that reached inside her and made her yearn. But at the same time the kiss lit her system, hammering heat into her veins.
Maybe she should have been surprised by the kiss, definitely by the timing, but they had been headed this way since he first yelled at her and she beaned him with that paperback. And death had a way of stripping away pretenses.
He had come to her, needed her.
Tenderness swept through her even as her neurons hummed as if she were climbing and had her belay ropes strung too tight. Not just because he was a heck of a kisser, but because it was Sam.
He shifted against her, slanted his mouth across hers and kissed her again, then again, their bodies straining together at the edge of a long, hard fall. Her pulse hammered in her ears; his thrummed beneath her fingertips when she touched his temple, his throat, the hollow of his collarbone.
“Danny,” he said as he broke the kiss, his voice a harsh rasp that sent new vibrations down her nerve endings. “I’m—”
“Don’t you dare apologize.” She didn’t want to hear that he hadn’t meant to kiss her, that it had been just a meaningless impulse.
“Trust me, that’s the last thing on my mind.” He cupped her face in those big, rough-palmed hands. “But I really hadn’t planned on making a move today. I didn’t even mean to come here. It all just sort of happened. I don’t want to rush things.”
She wrapped her fingers around his wrists and felt his solid strength. “I’m glad you did. And I’m good at catching up.” Even better at deciding how far she was willing to go, how deep she wanted to get.
He pressed his forehead to hers. “When can I see you again? Officially this time. Drinks, dinner, the works.”
Pleasure spun through her, but she said, “Honestly? I’d rather play with your rocks.”
His laughter echoed off the surrounding stones. “You’ve definitely been talking to Gran.”
“I have, and she’s got me intrigued.” Plus, she was more interested in Sam the prospector than Sam the rich guy. “Take me rock hunting. Pretty please. I want to see what it’s all about.”
8
On Saturday, Danny got to Mustang Ridge early enough to get a farewell strangle-hug from Christy and turn down a too-big tip from Sloan while Krista, Gran, and Rose led a conga line onto the shuttle bus, keeping the guests laughing and clowning around like they were just arriving for their vacations rather than leaving. Danny’s ears were ringing by the time the shuttle doors closed, and part of her said, Phew, peace and quiet. But when she stood with the others, waving as the bus headed up the driveway, she felt a definite pang.
“Well?” Krista said. “What do you think after week one? Are you ready to head for the hills?”
Making a show of clearing out one ear, Danny said, “Well, they were a little loud there toward the end . . .”
“Danny!” The whoop came from the other side of the parking lot, where a brunette flung herself out of a barely stopped Jeep. “You’re here! I can’t believe you’re actually here!”
“Speaking of loud,” Gran drawled good-naturedly.
Firelight at Mustang Ridge Page 8
