The Rancher Meets His Match

by Patricia McLinn

  Not today. Nothing beyond this cabin seemed real at the moment.

  She didn’t bother with pantyhose or shoes yet. She would have plenty of time to add them later. But the dress reminded her she was truly leaving; she needed that reminder before she faced saying goodbye to Dax.

  Even without looking at him, she knew he was awake as soon as she entered the bedroom.

  She was brushing her hair in front of the small mirror over the tall dresser when Dax rose from the bed with slow, deliberate intent. Still facing the mirror but no longer focused on her image, she froze with her brush in midair as he came to her side. He laid his hand at the base of her throat, meeting her bare skin above the top’s scoop neckline. She couldn’t see him in the mirror, only his hand. Large. Scarred. Dark. Powerful.

  And then he drew his hand slowly—oh, so slowly— down. Not hurting, but not gentle, either. A solid contact. A sensation that allowed no doubt that he was touching her, absorbing the sensation, as his hand lowered over her chest, following the outward curve of her breast, tipping to cup beneath it.

  Was he memorizing her the way she had tried to memorize him? Storing each scrap of touch or smell or sound so that later it could be rewoven into a fragment of memory?

  His hand continued down to her waist as he moved directly behind her. She felt the pressure of his fingers at the waistband of her skirt as he found the button there, then eased the zipper down. She didn’t move. Not even when he slid the skirt over her hips—a hand at each hip—and let it fall around her bare feet.

  Then he started on the back buttons of her top. A fragment of thought pierced the sensuous fog swirling through her that Dax Randall was considerably more sure-fingered at unbuttoning than at buttoning. Then she felt the final button give way, the material swing open and the mingled cool touch of air and warm breath of Dax’s sigh on her nape.

  Only when he reached up with one hand to take the brush from her numb fingers did she realize she still held her hands to her hair. He dropped the brush to the floor, then spread his hands wide at the back of her waist, thumbs meeting in the valley of her spine. When he started sliding his hands up, her hands dropped to grasp the edge of the high chest.

  His hands reached her bra strap, and for an instant she thought he might stop. She knew she’d beg him not to. But he didn’t. He unhooked the closure, letting the material hang loose, then slid his hands underneath, next to her skin, and brought them around to her breasts, surrounding them with his warmth.

  His tongue touched the spot where her neck met her shoulder. She turned her head slightly, then repeated the motion to again feel the soft brush of his hair against her cheek. When his mouth opened over the spot he had dampened and drew on her skin, she sagged back against him, absorbing the reality of his arousal pressing against her.

  He used his forearms and mouth to push the material of her top down. She lowered her hands, and top and bra slid off. She stood naked except for her panties and Dax’s hands covering her breasts.

  “Dax.” I love you. “Please, make love to me.” One last time.

  He stroked his right hand across her abdomen and belly, under the waistline of her panties and lower still, cupping her, then parting her gently. She gasped as one finger entered, measuring her moist heat.

  Her knees barely held her as he pushed down her panties and guided her to the bed. She would have moved beneath him as he put on a condom, but he held her off slightly, shifting to his side and drawing her to lie the same way, face-to-face, heart to heart, body to body.

  He stroked his left hand from her waist, over her hip, and reached down to her knee. Hooking his hand under her knee, he drew her leg up over his thigh, then higher, over his hip.

  “I want to see you.”

  Eyes locked on hers, he cupped her, drawing her against him as he slowly entered her.

  * * * *

  “Hannah.”

  She opened the bathroom door to him, holding the towel wrapped around her.

  “You took another shower.”

  “Yes.” She said it a little hesitantly, as if she couldn’t figure what he meant.

  He couldn’t blame her. It made no sense for him to wish she hadn’t washed off the scent of their lovemaking. What sort of fool thought was that?

  “I’ve got to go. Westons will be stirring soon. And I’ve got morning chores, but I’ll be back to take you to the airport.”

  “Dax, there’s no need—”

  * * * *

  “—for you to take me to the airport.” She’d been saying it since he’d made his announcement, standing in the doorway of the bathroom. “I keep telling you—”

  “And I keep telling you—I’m taking you to the airport.”

  Dax stood in front of her as solid and stubborn as the mountain range behind him.

  All the time she’d finished packing, she’d been torn between hoping he wouldn’t come back, and the dream that he’d take her in his arms and beg her not to leave.

  He drove up as she said her goodbyes to the Westons and Smiths, and it was obvious he wouldn’t give her either wish. She tried to talk him out of it by pointing out she needed to return the rental car. Fine, he countered, they’d take her rental car and June would give him a ride back.

  He thought it his duty to take her to the airport, and he would do his duty, come hell or high water. She just prayed the high water didn’t come from the tears that kept threatening.

  She would not cry. She would not cry.

  The effort to stick to that resolve left no energy to protest when Dax decided he’d drive her car. But at least she made it through the silent drive to the Bardville airport, even when Dax tugged at her arm to draw her closer on the seat as soon as they were on the main highway. She did tear up when June came out from behind the counter at the airport to give her a hard hug complete with thumps on her back.

  “You take care of yourself now, Hannah.”

  “I will. You, too, June. And give my best to your mother. And take care of—” she risked a glance to where Dax was handing in her luggage to the airline clerk, and nearly broke her vow “—of everything.”

  June muttered something that included the phrase “damned fool,” thumped Hannah on the back a final time and assured her, “I’ll take care of him all right.”

  And then it was only Dax and her.

  The ticket-taker told Dax he had to stay inside the one-room terminal, but Dax ignored him, taking Hannah’s elbow as they moved out to the tarmac. Once the ticket-taker stopped sputtering, Hannah could hear the airline clerk and June telling him not to bother to call security or the sheriff’s department.

  They stopped a couple yards short of the portable stairway that led into the commuter plane.

  “Hannah.”

  Only then did she face him. She could see his painful struggle to come up with some words to make this all right. No such words existed. And because she loved him and didn’t want him to hurt, but also because she didn’t think she could bear right now to hear inadequate words, she ended his struggle.

  “Thank you, Dax. For everything. For showing me your Wyoming. I’ll never forget it, and I’ll never forget you. I hope your horizons never have clouds. Goodbye.”

  With a palm on his chest to steady herself, she reached up to kiss him, hard and fast. But as she started to pull away, his arms came around her, one hand cradling the back of her head, and he slid his tongue into her mouth, drawing hers back into his mouth. He drew her lower body tight against him, between his slightly spread legs, to feel the imprint of his arousal, and he kept on kissing her. An earthy, complete, devastating kiss.

  A kiss that should have led to naked, sweaty bodies and hot, fast union, followed by slow, soul-shaking lovemaking.

  But all this kiss could lead to was goodbye, and the heartache that waited beyond it.

  “Final boarding call!”

  The faintly amused shout from behind Hannah made Dax jolt, and she stepped back, away from him. He stood with his arms s
till slightly extended toward her, his eyes hot and his body hard. She put a hand to her mouth to keep from crying out, then turned on her heel and started up the stairs to the small plane.

  She passed the solitary flight attendant and took the first empty spot. Tears coursed down her cheeks. The attendant, passing down the aisle to check on seat belts, stopped a moment beside her.

  “Oh, honey, is there anything I can do? What—” The attendant looked out Hannah’s window to the tarmac where Dax stood. “I see what. Here.” She pressed a packet of tissues into Hannah’s hand. “There’s plenty more when those run out.”

  Hannah stuttered out thanks, but couldn’t take her eyes off Dax, standing so still and solitary.

  He remained there as the plane took off. Distance and tears finally blurred his image.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “What a shame,” came a whispered female voice from somewhere behind him.

  ‘Yes, indeed,” agreed another from the depths of Jessa Tarrant’s sundries store. “A real shame. I thought it would work out for Dax Randall at last. Thought he’d found love. What a sad life. Poor boy.”

  Dax dug in his pocket for money to pay for his purchases and slapped it on the counter. His skin felt tight and hot over his jaw. Not embarrassment. It was from clamping his jaw tight. Poor boy, his ass. His life was fine.

  “Sorry, Dax,” Cully Grainger said. He leaned against the wall behind the register, making no move to pick up Dax’s money. “You’ll have to wait for Jessa to come back. Jessa made me swear I wouldn’t mess with her cash register.”

  “That,” said Jessa as she came down the aisle toward them, “is because I know you’re fully capable of setting it up so I can’t get into the computer without going through you.”

  “Just because I said I thought you work too much.”

  Jessa grinned at Dax, inviting him to join the banter. “This from the man who’s been campaigning nonstop.”

  “Uh, yeah, how’s that going?” Dax asked, not from any real wish to know. He’d vote for Grainger himself after seeing how he’d handled the trouble Jessa had had early in the summer, but he wasn’t in the mood for making conversation.

  “Seems to be going okay.”

  “It’s going great,” Jessa amended.

  “Good. Would hate to see a good man like you have to go back to North Carolina.”

  North Carolina . . . Hannah.

  “We’re here to stay, Travis and me. Win or lose. I’ve found what I’ve been looking for here.”

  Jessa and Cully smiled at each other.

  Hannah’s smile put that dimple alongside the left comer of her mouth. She’d smiled when he’d taken her riding in Kearny Canyon and when he’d shared his star spot with her and when they’d made love. But there’d been no smile that last morning. Tears stood in her eyes the last time he had seen her. The last time he would see her.

  “Dax?” Jessa’s voice drew him back from the memory of watching a speck of silver disappear in the sky. “Have you heard from Hannah?”

  “No reason I would.” He sounded harsh after Jessa’s soft question. “People made too much of this. Two weeks. That was all it was ever going to be.”

  “Sometimes things don’t go the way you plan, Dax.”

  “Yeah. Well, I gotta go. Got a ranch to run.” He pushed the money forward on the counter.

  After giving him a look he avoided, Jessa sighed and took his money, punching in numbers and handing over his change. He felt Cully watching him behind the sunglasses he wore. He didn’t return that look, either.

  Jessa put his light bulbs in a bag, then paused with a small box in her hand before she put that in, too. “Vanilla? Are you baking?”

  “No.” He pushed the words out. “It’s for June.”

  “I see. Take care of yourself, Dax,” Jessa said.

  “See you.” Keeping his head down, he gave them both a wave.

  Yanking the door open started the bell clanging over his head.

  “Whoa! Don’t run over the pregnant lady!”

  Dax jerked back to avoid bumping into Cambria. “Sorry.”

  “No problem. You look like a man with something else on his mind.”

  “Got work to do. See you later.”

  “Hey, wait a minute, Dax. I wanted to ask if you’ve talked to Hannah since she went back to North Carolina. It’s been three weeks. Boone is—”

  He didn’t believe in being rude. Specially not to friends. Not usually. But this wasn’t usual. A man could take only so much. He walked past Cambria without another word.

  At least once he got out of Bardville, he wouldn’t have people yapping at him all the time about something they didn’t know anything about. You’d think people would have better things to do with a Friday morning than try to tell him how to live his life.

  He’d get back to the Circle CR where it was quiet. Very quiet. Will had a party at Theresa Wendlow’s tonight and then would stay with June overnight. June would drive him out in the morning when she brought the dried apples she’d put up.

  More than once Will had said it was just a bunch of kids getting together. Not a date. Why not, Will? Why not a date? The girl likes you and you like her, so why not? He’d come close to asking, but he hadn’t.

  He gunned the truck’s engine.

  Just before he reached the back side of the Welcome To Bardville sign, strobing lights showed up in his rearview mirror.

  Sheriff Milano hoisted himself out of his car and strolled up to the side of Dax’s truck.

  “Hey there, Dax. I was hoping to catch up with you, but I didn’t ’xpect you to make it so hard—wanted to ask if you’ve heard from that nice Hannah Chalmers lately.”

  Dax’s response was profane and succinct.

  * * * *

  Coming in the back door in search of his own Saturday breakfast after doing the early feeding chores, Dax heard the voices right away.

  He knew—absolutely—that it was his sister with Will. It had to be. But for a time he couldn’t measure, he stood with his hand on the knob and the Wyoming wind gusting cold through the open door and thought he heard another woman’s voice. A good portion of Southern mixed into a natural warmth and simmered with laughter. The laughter would turn up that generous mouth of hers and the warmth would glow from hazel eyes. He’d walk in, and she’d be smiling at Will, and turn that smile to him. And her eyes would understand, and he’d feel the peace she’d—

  “Dax! That you heatin’ the outdoors? Or has somebody punched a hole in the side of your house?”

  June’s voice jolted him out of his nonsensical dreaming and into action. He slammed the door, but tried for a smile as he walked past Will’s duffel bag dumped by the doorway.

  “Morning.”

  Will repeated his greeting, but didn’t pause in dropping bread slices into the toaster.

  June considered him over the rim of the coffee cup she’d filled from his early-morning pot. “Doesn’t look like a good morning for you, Dax. What’s the matter with your face? You look like a gargoyle.”

  He gave up on the smile, but otherwise ignored his sister. “Have a good time, Will?”

  “Yeah, it was great.” Will rummaged in the refrigerator.

  “You’d think he hadn’t already eaten a stack of pancakes a foot high this morning,” June grumbled indulgently.

  “Pancakes, huh?” Dax had a weakness for those himself. Wasn’t half-bad making them, either. But it was hard to cut the time out of a morning.

  “They were great. Grandma made blueberry.”

  Dax grunted, an odd hitch catching him in the chest. Over missing out on his mother making him blueberry pancakes? Nonsense. He made out fine on his own. “So tell me about the party.”

  The toast popped up and Will started slathering on butter. “I told you, it was fun.”

  And that, apparently, was all the detail forthcoming. Dax cocked a brow at June, who shrugged. “So,” he said, as casual as he could, “I guess the next big thing is Homec
oming, right?”

  Will mumbled an affirmative around a swallow of milk from the carton.

  “I know it’s not for a few weeks yet, but I suppose a lot of people are already doing the asking.”

  “I guess. Do you want a piece of this toast, Dad?”

  “No, go ahead, finish it up yourself. But how about you, Will? Have you thought about Homecoming?”

  “You mean the dance and stuff? That’s a real date. Where’s the grape jelly?”

  “Fridge door,” Dax answered absently. So Will still held off from the idea of going on “a real date.” He was considering that when his sister changed the subject.

  “I hear you were in town yesterday.” June’s tone was as innocuous as her comment. Dax immediately went on guard.

  “Yeah. Needed light bulbs.”

  “You could have waited a day and I’d have brought them out. Along with the vanilla.”

  He ignored the second part. “I didn’t want to spend another night with this house as dark as a cave.”

  “A man in a hurry, huh? Heard you were in such a hurry to leave Jessa’s shop you almost bowled over Cambria, And even more of a hurry to leave town. Sheriff says it gave him a real start to see your old truck moving like it was in the Indy 500.”

  “It’s a damned good thing that old coot is retiring. It’s high time Milano got put out to pasture. He’s getting too old for the job.”

  “He caught you, didn’t he?”

  “A speeding ticket—that’s all.”

  “That’s not what I heard. I heard something about failure to obey a law enforcement officer’s orders.”

  “The old fool had already given me a damned ticket. When I got fed up listening to his lectures on matters that are none of his concern and pulled away, he stopped me again and cited me.”

  June harrumphed. “All in all, you made yourself a real popular fella, huh?”

  “Geez, Dad,” Will said around a mouthful of toast, “you’ve got to start being nicer to people. You know, I won’t be around here forever.”

  Stunned by the unexpected criticism from his son, Dax growled, “You announcing a plan to run away from home?”

  “Don’t tempt the boy,” June contributed.