A Ranch to Keep

by Claire McEwen

  Her face was serious, brows momentarily furrowed, her eyes deep green and far away. He liked watching her think. Her answer was hesitant. “I loved Kenya. My parents were filming in one of the wildlife preserves there. We saw every kind of animal imaginable. We had to be really careful of the lions.”

  “Well, I guess I won’t worry about you and a few black bears then.” He wanted to keep her talking, to learn more. “Did you like all that moving around?”

  “No.” She answered emphatically and looked down the hill at the view, obviously done with that topic. He wondered what had made her shut that door into the past so quickly.

  “What about you?” she asked him. “Where did you grow up?”

  “Oklahoma,” he said. “My dad worked as a ranch foreman on a cattle ranch. He still does. I can’t get him to retire.” Jack paused for a moment, and then went on. “My mom left, when I was pretty young, and moved to the city. Ranching just wasn’t for her. My dad pretty much raised me on his own, so I learned most of what I know from him.”

  “He must be quite a man, to have taken care of you like that,” she said quietly.

  Jack pictured his father’s face—the craggy features, the graying hair, the kindness and humor in his eyes. “He didn’t have a lot of choice, I guess. But he’s a good guy, a character. I’ve tried to get him to move out here with me, but he says I’ll have to get some cows first.”

  She laughed at that and her smile lit her pale face and he felt like he’d won the lottery. She was that beautiful. But something was different about her this weekend. He sensed an underlying sadness, or bitterness, and he didn’t really understand where it came from. He hadn’t been exaggerating yesterday evening when he’d told her she looked tired.

  The landscape changed as they climbed higher. The aspen gave way to pine trees growing sparse and twisted among the granite boulders that jutted up through steep hillsides. It occurred to Jack that, tired or not, she was here with him and he was missing an opportunity. If Walt’s rumors were true, and she was already considering selling the ranch, he had to plead his case sooner than later.

  Maybe her heartbreak last night made it difficult to talk business today, but he could at least show her how well he’d taken care of the land all these years. Then, when the right time came for him to make an offer, she’d know how much work he’d invested in the property already.

  Up ahead was a small bridge crossing a gully. He’d completed the project a few weeks ago and the logs were still fresh. “What do you think of my handiwork?” he asked, turning in the saddle to motion to it as he crossed.

  “You did this?” she asked, examining the bridge as Apple walked calmly over.

  “A few months ago. The one your grandpa built had rotted through.” He gave her a cocky smile, motioning to the bridge. “How am I doing, landlady? Am I taking good care of your ranch?”

  “Looks like it to me. Seems like I’m lucky to have a tenant who’s so good with his hands.”

  It was exactly the answer he’d been hoping for, but her look was pure mischief and it made it hard to think straight.

  Samantha went on, minus the flirtation. “Grandpa used to complain about the time it took him to maintain these trails, but he loved it. Sometimes he’d come out here with his pickaxe and stay the night, just to work on them.”

  “Your grandpa understood something that a lot of people don’t.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I didn’t know him, he was gone by the time I moved here. But I saw the work he did, the years of care that he put into this property.” Jack halted Larry and looked around at the mountains he’d come to love so much. Samantha stopped Apple as well and let her put her head down to nibble at a tuft of grass.

  Maybe he was preaching, but she was listening. “It’s not just about owning land like this. How do you own all this, anyway?” His arm circled, encompassing the ravine they were climbing out of, the tall pines on the ledge above them, the huge sky. “This land’s been here for millions of years. It’s going to be here for millions more when we’re gone. I think your grandpa understood that there’s an obligation to do what’s right for the land, not just what’s right for the rancher.”

  She looked surprised. “I didn’t know you could be so poetic. Does everyone around here share your views?”

  “Not always.” He nudged Larry and they moved forward again. “But I think a lot of people, especially people who work the land, or ranch on it, have a healthy respect for it. They’re not going to trash it when they’re making their livelihood running cattle or horses on it.”

  Her voice was serious now. “I’m glad my grandmother found you to take such great care of her land. Thank you, Jack.”

  This was the perfect opening to ask her to sell to him. He could almost hear Walt’s voice urging him on. Then he remembered her tears last night. The way she’d been so sad about her grandmother, so anxious to do right by her in taking care of her house. She’d been so conflicted then, so upset, and he didn’t want to put that sorrow back on her face. Not right now when her eyes sparkled green fire at him and the smile she’d flashed a few times already had lit up the landscape. Not right now when he’d promised to give her exactly what she needed—a relaxing sunny day at the lake.

  They wound their way up the trail until they reached the pass. Surrounding them on all sides were bright blue sky and panoramic views back the way they’d come. The mountains tumbled out into the distance, chaotic bands of peaks and valleys.

  “Gorgeous!” Samantha exclaimed. “It’s amazing to see how big it all is.”

  They turned the horses the other direction and there was the lake—the azure water a sharp contrast to the granite boulders surrounding it.

  “There it is, Rock Lake. Now known as Lake Beautiful Ruth. You ready for a swim?”

  “It’s so good to see it again!” Samantha looked happy, like she was returning home, and Jack knew he’d done the right thing bringing her here.

  Jack nudged Larry forward and led the way toward his favorite swimming spot, a place where flat granite boulders lined the shore, perfect for lying in the sun. He dismounted in a meadow that surrounded the lake and pulled off Larry’s saddle, replacing his bridle with a rope halter.

  “They can graze here,” he explained.

  Samantha slid off Apple, then stretched and groaned. “I won’t be able to walk for a week after this!”

  “You’ll be all right. You’re tough, Frisco,” he reassured her and moved over to unsaddle Apple. He pulled a couple towels out of one of the saddlebags and tossed them to her. “Why don’t you go find us a spot over on those rocks by the shore? I’ll let you heat up a bit before I toss you in that water.”

  Her eyes widened in alarm. “You wouldn’t dare!” She headed to the rocks, calling over her shoulder, “Don’t make me have to hurt you, Jack Baron!”

  Jack shook his head in amusement as he pulled off the mare’s saddle and bridle. He slid the halter on and sent her off to graze beside Larry. Turning toward shore he stopped in his tracks. He’d felt like this before, after a bad fall from a horse, gasping for breath when the impact knocked the wind out of him.

  Samantha was standing on the granite that sloped gently toward the water’s edge. Her back was to him as she looked out over the mountain lake. She’d removed her jeans and boots, revealing slender, muscled legs that ended in a tiny black scrap of bikini bottom. Unaware of her audience, she pulled off her T-shirt and unhooked her bra, unveiling elegant shoulders that tapered into a long thin waist that flared into rounded hips—hips that called for a man to put his hands on them. He swallowed hard as she tossed the clothing aside and tied a bikini top across her smooth back.

  He turned away quickly, rummaging through the saddlebags for the shorts he’d packed and giving himself a few crucial minutes to compose himself and get used to this ne
w vision of her. She has a boyfriend, he reminded himself. And she’d gone out on some kind of dinner date with Rob Morgan, the one man he could truly say he hated. He liked her, he wanted her, but she was not for him. He had to keep his eye on his goal: to make sure she sold him her ranch.

  Shorts in hand, he went back up the trail to change behind a rock, then brought the saddlebags with lunch over to where she lay on her back, eyes closed, lips in a half smile of feline pleasure as she basked in the sun.

  “Hey,” he said as he spread his towel out next to hers and sat down.

  She put a hand up to shade her brow, and cracked a sleepy eye open. “Mmm?” It was more of a purr than a question.

  “You ready for that swim now?”

  “No.” She shook her head and closed her eye again.

  “You seem pretty warm. I think you are...”

  “I think you’re wrong, Cowboy!” She gave up on her attempt at napping and sat up. “I think I’m pretty happy right here soaking in this warm sun. You can go jump in that icy puddle. I’ll even cheer you on.”

  He couldn’t help it. He knew he should keep his distance, but she was challenging him with a saucy smile and her beauty went to his head like a drug.

  “Not swim!” he cried in mock dismay. “I brought you all the way up here, Frisco, and you’re not going to swim? You’ve been living in the city way too long.” He knew he was acting like a teenager, but he scooped her up anyway and carried her to the water’s edge while she wriggled in his arms and laughingly smacked at his chest, halfheartedly trying to escape. It felt great and he wouldn’t have minded hanging on to her like this forever. But the water beckoned. He paused for a moment with her suspended over the blue depths. “You can swim, right?”

  “Of course I can, you hick...”

  He cut off her insult by tossing her in with a satisfying splash, promptly diving in alongside her.

  “Argh!” She surfaced from the icy water spluttering and shaking off droplets. “It’s freezing!”

  “Snowmelt,” he answered.

  “Not nice.” She glared at him, treading water and shivering. He saw the idea when it hit her, and the evil gleam that appeared in her eye as a result. He dove under. When he came up she was there and a wall of water splashed into his face.

  He inhaled it, sputtered and splashed back. Water was flying and they were shrieking and laughing like two kids. Her grin was a sight to behold, but as he was contemplating it she dove under and grabbed his ankle, startling him enough to send him under and give him a mouthful of water. Coughing, he turned around and saw her surface at the shore, pulling herself up out of the water and onto the sunbaked rock.

  “Don’t mess with a city girl,” she called as he swam toward her, still coughing. “We know how to defend ourselves, or get revenge as needed!”

  He reached for her ankle but she danced back, smiling triumphantly at him as she sat down on her towel, shaking out her wet curls.

  “Okay...truce. I’ve got to get out of this water. Crazy that it’s so cold after a whole summer of sitting in the sun.” His skin felt raw as he pulled himself up onto the rock and made his way over to his towel, only to find it gone, with Samantha looking innocently up at him. “Towel comes back on one condition, Cowboy.”

  Her eyes sparkled and he realized he’d done what he planned. She was happy.

  “I’m at your mercy.”

  “No more dumping innocent women into the lake.”

  “But you’re smiling! Admit it Samantha, you’re having fun. That’s a big change from the woman I saw last night. Maybe you should be thanking me.”

  She shook her head in mock disbelief. “For dropping me in subzero water? Probably not. Come on, Cowboy, you’re shivering. No promise, no towel.”

  He gave her his promise and lay down gratefully on the towel she pulled from her bag and returned to him. He let the sun thaw his frozen bones. He listened to the peaceful sound of the water lapping against the shore and thought about all the reasons she was not for him.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  IT WASN’T FAIR that Jack looked so gorgeous when asleep. No snoring, no drool, just a quiet breathing and a bronzed body that looked like a dream in cutoff Levi’s shorts. His chest was hairless except for a small golden patch in the center. His legs were pale compared to the rest of his body, but strong and more gilded by the sun than she would have expected from someone who wore jeans every day.

  She realized his eyes were open, watching her watch him. Her cheeks went hot and she quickly looked out toward the lake. “You’re beautiful,” he said in a low voice. “You’re incredibly beautiful.”

  “Really?” she asked.

  “Really,” he answered.

  She turned to look at him, trying to read his face. “How beautiful?”

  He obviously wasn’t expecting that. “Um...very.” He sat up, a look of concern replacing the admiration.

  Samantha’s heart was pounding through her chest with nerves. She could do this. She needed to do this. He wanted her, she could tell, and his desire was a balm, already soothing the blow her ego had taken from Mark. “Beautiful enough that you still want to kiss me?” She leaned toward him then, and brought one hand up to touch the angles of his face, the lines around his eyes. She brought her mouth to his. He didn’t kiss her back, just looked at her warily. She kissed him again.

  Tess had been right. This was just what she needed. Mark had blindsided her with his betrayal and left her feeling discarded, undesirable. This kiss was her salvation. She kissed him again and heard the sharp intake of his breath. A rush of want lit her down to her chilled soul.

  And finally he kissed her back. His firm mouth going soft for her was almost her undoing. She wanted more from him and pushed her mouth against his, relieved when he answered her demand with his own, coiling a hand in her hair and pulling her hard into his arms. His next kiss opened her mouth and she slid her hands down his bare torso, molding the hard muscles of his back, clinging to his strength for support as she rose to her knees with one fleeting thought: that this is what she’d always knew kissing should be like.

  “Samantha, wait.” He stopped kissing her so suddenly that she felt disoriented for a moment. He pulled back and she sat down abruptly on the towel, alone.

  Jack moved back to put a few more inches of space between them. His voice was hoarse. “There are so many reasons this can’t happen.” He looked down at her with eyes that had turned almost black with wanting. “Number-one reason being that you have a boyfriend.”

  His words hit her like a dash of the icy lake water. She’d been hoping he’d somehow have forgotten about Mark, the way she’d miraculously forgotten about him for the past few minutes. The last thing she wanted was to explain to this beautiful man, who probably had women fighting for his attention, that she’d been found so completely lacking in sex appeal by her boyfriend that he’d been sleeping with someone else for the past three months. Jack was looking at her expectantly, his breathing still a little ragged.

  Samantha couldn’t meet his eyes. “When I told you that last weekend, I really did have a boyfriend. But I don’t have him anymore.”

  “What?” Jack looked at her in surprise. “When were you going to tell me?”

  “I don’t know.” She looked past him, out over the lake. “Soon, I guess.”

  “What happened?”

  She didn’t want to go into this now. Didn’t want to think about it now. She just wanted to lose herself again, as she had a few moments ago. She leaned over, brushed a damp lock of blond hair off Jack’s forehead, and kissed his cheek. “Do you think we could maybe not talk about this?” She gently turned his head and kissed his mouth, trying to silence his questions. “Or maybe just talk about it later?”

  Her efforts at distraction paid off. He turned toward her and with a sudden hunge
r, deepened the kiss. She lay back, pulling him with her, wanting to drown out all memory, all emotion except the passion she felt for this man.

  His kisses were bruising and her blood was racing as he leaned over her. Jack’s hand felt enormous as it brushed past her breast and wrapped around her rib cage. His fingers travelled to her waist, her stomach, and grazed her hip at the edge of her bikini. She heard a low sound and realized with a shock that it was from her. It hit her that this was going to be sex in about thirty seconds and maybe when it was it would burn away all memories of Mark—all the discomfort, all the worry.

  Her hands seemed to have a mind of their own as she reached up over his broad chest and trailed her fingers over his muscled shoulder, his upper arm and back down toward his belly until he stopped her hand with his. It took a moment for her to realize that he was moving her hand away from him, but then his voice, saying her name, penetrated her disordered mind, and she realized he was pulling back again, and gently helping her to sit back up.

  “This isn’t right.” His voice shook. He ran a hand through his hair and turned away to face the lake. “I want to, I really do, but it’s not okay.”

  “But we can, Jack.” She wanted this so much she was almost begging. “I’m a free woman. We can do anything we want.”

  “But I don’t want this, Samantha. I mean, I don’t want you like this.”

  Ouch, was all she could think. Rejected by two men in one week. She must be setting some new kind of record. She couldn’t look at him, and she knew her cheeks were on fire. Tears were threatening. This was mortifying.

  His voice was kind. “Samantha, listen to me.” He reached over, and trailed his knuckles down her elbow to her wrist. Her skin rippled under his touch and she yanked her betraying arm away. “I want you, Samantha. I’ve wanted you since I met you. But I learned a long time ago that wanting’s not enough.”