Dare to be Dirty (The Dirty Girls Book Club #2)

by Savanna Fox

  Though he loomed over her, she stood her ground, hands on her hips, and stared up at him. “Yes. My way of life’s in Hong Kong.” But even as she said the words, she knew that, in the midst of Hong Kong’s color, bustle, noise, and pollution, she’d miss Ronan Ranch.

  He stared back as if he was seeing her afresh. “Damn it. You said it before, more than once. I should have listened. Thank God we didn’t take this relationship any further. You’re just like Miranda.”

  “I am not!” How dare he say that? “I’d never run out on my child.”

  “How about on your husband? Or your boyfriend? What happens when the excitement wears off? When the stuff that seemed different and fascinating turns out to just be dust and chores?”

  Dust and chores? She knew that wasn’t how he saw Ronan Ranch. Nor would she ever see it that way. Not with the grandeur of the mountains, the graceful deer, wounded horses to heal, flowers and fresh fruit and crisp streams and the freshest air she’d ever breathed. Still, it wasn’t her home, and would never be. She wouldn’t run out on it, because she’d never choose it in the first place.

  “Run home, Kim,” he said tiredly, as if he’d read her mind. “Run back to Hong Kong and your parents. You say it’s about loyalty to them. Seems to me it’s cowardice. You don’t have the guts to figure out what you want and go for it, when the going’s hard.”

  “I do.” She gazed at him, the man she’d finally admitted she loved. “The going’s hard now, Ty. I love you and I don’t want to hurt you. But I believe that what I’m doing is right.”

  “Then maybe it is. For both of us. But when you’re back home, think about the symbolism of those wings you love so much.”

  “The symbolism?”

  “Wings are about flight. About soaring high and free, wherever you want to go. Can you do that when you’re with your parents? Can you take UmbrellaWings wherever you want it to go? Can you fall in love and marry the man you choose? Or will they clip your wings? Will you forever be painting wings, and never taking flight yourself?”

  Ooh! He would never, ever understand. He didn’t even want to try. He said he loved her, but all he wanted was to slot her neatly into his comfy little life. “You have a lot of nerve, saying that,” she snapped. “If I stayed here, all the risk would be on me. You wouldn’t be risking one thing! If you and I broke up, you’d still have your home, your business, your family.”

  He was impossible. What had she been thinking, even starting up with him? That idiotic book had bewitched her, had made her abandon her normal common sense. Now, her heart ached and tears burned behind her eyes.

  “This is crazy,” he said, glaring at her. “What were we thinking?”

  “Exactly!” She spun on her heel. “Have a nice life,” she tossed bitterly over her shoulder.

  “Count on it.” She’d never heard a man snarl before, but that was definitely what he did.

  Fierce energy carried her down the stairs and out to her car, but once inside her hand trembled as she tried to fit the key into the ignition. Tears blurred her vision, but she blinked them away. If this was love, then love sucked. She was never going to fall in love again.

  She made it down the ranch road, unlatched the gate, drove through, then got out and latched it again. Resting her arms on the weathered wooden top rail, she stared back at Ronan Ranch, with black cattle grazing in one field and horses frolicking in another.

  Then she put her face down on her crossed hands and let the tears flow.

  * * *

  Monday afternoon, Kim trudged to book club. Her eyes burned from tears, shed and unshed.

  Marielle had chosen The Black Frog, near the steam clock in Gastown. Arriving late, Kim found the others wrangling over appetizers. Consulted, she said, “Whatever.” It wasn’t like she had an appetite.

  Redheaded George was vibrant in a silk jersey blouse patterned in shades of copper. Would Kim have time to fly back for her and Woody’s wedding? Would she be invited? Out of sight, out of mind. She was just a member of a book club, only starting to become a friend.

  Marielle, in a figure-hugging purple tee over black leggings, looked gorgeous as always with her smooth coffee-colored skin, mass of curly dark hair, and flashing eyes. The woman who lived life as an ongoing rumspringa. Kim loved her generous spirit and joie de vivre. Would Marielle ever settle on one drink, one job, one man, or would she always be happy to keep sampling?

  Lily, wearing a dove gray jacket and pants with an elegantly simple white top, had a light tan which set off her fair hair. But rather than appearing relaxed and end-of-summery, she looked tired. These days, she always looked tired. Would Kim ever find out what was going on with Lily? Did it have to do with her marriage?

  “Lily, what does your husband do?” she found herself asking.

  Three faces turned toward her with surprised expressions.

  She flushed, feeling pushy. But if she didn’t find out now, she never would.

  “Dax is a helicopter pilot,” Lily said slowly. “A bush pilot.” At last week’s book club, she’d said it could be hard to maintain a relationship when the partners had really different careers. Was that from personal experience?

  “Wow,” Marielle said. “I’d never have guessed. A family practice doctor and a bush pilot. That’s another attraction of opposites, like Woody and George.”

  And me and Ty. “You’ve been married how long?”

  “Ten years. I was twenty-two.”

  “Younger than I am now,” Kim said.

  Lily pressed her lips together, then released them. “This is a book club. We should decide on the next book.”

  Kim was still curious, but couldn’t be pushy enough to persist.

  Their drinks arrived, and as the waitress served them, Kim reached under the table for the large bag she’d brought with her. From it, she took three carefully wrapped cylinders. Silently, she handed one to each woman.

  Thirty-two

  These are either paintings or umbrellas,” George guessed.

  As a foretaste of what UmbrellaWings might do, Kim had bought parasols made of rice paper and bamboo, and painted them.

  Marielle was already ripping the paper off hers. She pulled out the parasol and promptly slid it open and squealed with pleasure. Hers was vivid yellow, decorated with a cloud of bright butterflies in all shades of orange, accented with black and a touch of purple. “This is gorgeous!” She glanced at the tag Kim had made. “Based on the Common Buckeye butterfly.”

  George went next. “Oh my!” On a pale peach background, dragonflies with iridescent green wings took flight. “Kim, it’s beautiful.” She read the tag. “Downy Emerald dragonfly.”

  Lily opened her gift. On a creamy yellow background, Kim had painted fanciful butterflies with wings in delicate shades of blue and green, veined in gold. She’d wanted to compliment Lily’s delicate coloring, with her pale wheat-colored hair and striking light blue eyes, but was afraid the effect might be too feminine and romantic for Lily’s taste. Still, the pleasure on the doctor’s face appeared genuine. “Thanks so much, Kim.” She studied the tag. “Queen Alexandra’s Birdwing butterfly. Kim, these tags are a terrific idea.”

  “Ty thought of it.”

  “Smart man,” George said. “What did we do to deserve the gifts?”

  Kim swallowed hard. “I’m going home on Wednesday.”

  A mingled chorus of moans and questions greeted her announcement.

  “Long story short, my parents approved my business plan and they’ve offered financing. I’m going home to get things started.”

  “Congratulations, Kim,” Lily said. “But we’re sorry you’re leaving so soon. Or at all, actually.” The other two nodded agreement.

  “Me too.” For a woman who didn’t cry, tears were rising to Kim’s eyes surprisingly often these days. She took a slug of ale. “But I’m excited to get going with UmbrellaWings.”

  “You don’t sound excited,” George said softly.

  “I am, but it’s hard l
eaving Vancouver, the friends I’ve made. I’ll miss you all.”

  “You can’t go,” Marielle said. “We’ll kidnap you and keep you here.”

  Kim managed to smile. “Thanks. I wish there were two of me, so one could stay.”

  “What about Ty?” George asked.

  She shrugged and tried to sound offhand. “Easy come, easy go. My Chinese rumspringa’s over. In Hong Kong, my parents will keep an eagle eye on my dating life.”

  “You can’t give in to all that old-fashioned crap,” Marielle said.

  “I love my parents, and respect them.”

  “And clearly they love you,” Lily said. “But they should respect you too. I know different cultures have different customs and values, but in today’s world, you should have free choice, Kim.”

  “Oh, they won’t force me into an arranged marriage. We already had that discussion. But they want me to marry someone I’m compatible with, someone who’ll fit into the family. That gives the marriage the best chance of success, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes.” George glanced up from the green onion cake she was cutting. “But true compatibility, not just superficial things. Like, in the beginning, Woody and I thought we had nothing in common except lust. But when we got to know each other, we realized we’re perfect together. Our core values are the same, but we’re different enough to challenge each other and keep life interesting.”

  “And you have to keep life interesting,” the irrepressible Marielle tossed out.

  “I think you made a wise decision, Kim,” Lily said. “Are you sure you’re all right with it?”

  Kim squeezed her eyes shut against another hot burn of tears. She wasn’t the kind of woman to air her angst in public. In fact, until now, she’d never had any serious angst.

  A warm hand touched hers and George said, “You’re not, are you?”

  Eyes still shut, Kim shook her head. Whether it was the illusion of privacy given by hiding behind her closed eyelids, or the warmth in George’s voice and touch, she found herself revealing the truth. “I’m not. I love him. And he l-loves m-me.” Her voice broke and tears escaped to slide down her cheeks.

  Georgia squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand. If you love each other, what’s the problem?”

  Kim took a deep breath then opened her eyes and flicked at the tears on her cheeks. “It couldn’t work. It’s all too much.” She stared into George’s concerned golden brown eyes. “Imagine if you and Woody had just met, and suddenly he was traded to a team in Florida. Your career’s here, your mom’s here, your friends are here. Would you go with him?”

  “No, but I wouldn’t break up with him. We could try a long-distance relationship.”

  “What if your mom hated him and—”

  “Your mother’s met Ty?” George broke in.

  “No, of course not. She’s never even heard of him. But she and Dad would hate him. He’s not Chinese and he doesn’t live in Hong Kong. They’d think he’s totally wrong for me.”

  Marielle, who’d been flipping through her cell phone, lifted her head. “What do you think, Kim? It’s your life. I could say you’d be crazy to settle down with any guy, but that’s me. That’s how I am. You, you’ve always said you want the long-term thing. I just hunted back through e-mails from when we were reading Lady Emma. This is what you said.”

  She read from her screen. “‘I’m happy to read about Emma’s raunchy adventures. LOL. But for me, I want the whole package: sex, caring, and commitment.’” She looked up. “Is Ty the kind of guy who believes in that stuff?”

  Kim nodded. “Yes, but—”

  “You didn’t say Chinese,” Marielle interrupted, “or that he had to live in Hong Kong. You said sex, caring, commitment.”

  “The rest went without saying.”

  “Does Ty feel the way you do,” George asked. “That your relationship could never work?”

  “If he had any brains, he would,” Kim groused. “No, he had to go and make things harder by asking me to stay.”

  “Stay?” Marielle asked. “As in, like, a proposal?”

  “God, no, he’s not that stupid. Just a ‘why don’t you stay and let’s see where things go’ kind of thing. Which,” she said grimly, “involves absolutely no risk to him, but it could mess up UmbrellaWings for me, not to mention the effect on my parents. They’d be shattered. I can’t even imagine what they’d do.”

  “Cut you out of their lives?” George asked. “Surely not. You’re their only child.”

  “Okay, I don’t think they’d disown me. But they’d be devastated. I couldn’t do that to them.”

  “You’d rather have them control your life?” Marielle asked.

  Kim wanted to say that it wasn’t like that. Yet it kind of was. Ty had said her parents would clip her wings. That she’d end up always painting wings, never flying herself. She’d accused him of trying to control her too, but really, she’d been unfair.

  He was right about her parents. Their love led them to try to control her life, to protect her. They’d guilt her into not flying at all, or only doing it on a short, safe tether, in a direction they approved of. But Ty wasn’t like that. Yes, he wanted to be with her, but he encouraged her to be independent. He liked that they were different and didn’t always agree. He’d support and help her, but he’d encourage her to fly high and free.

  Ty believed she was—or at least could be—a strong woman. To her parents, she’d always be the child they wanted to shelter and guide.

  Yet she loved her parents. She owed them so much. Slowly, she said, “My parents have already done something huge for me, not making me join Chang Property Management.” And the offer to stay involved with CPM had been Kim’s, not something forced on her by her parents. “And in helping me with UmbrellaWings.”

  “Neither of which gives them the right to own the rest of your life,” George said quietly.

  Why did no one understand? If she told Henry about her situation, he’d get it immediately. Of course, he’d say she should never have gone out with Ty in the first place, and he’d be right.

  Or would he? Hadn’t she broken up with Henry because he was so conventional?

  Could she honestly wish she’d never met Ty Ronan?

  “Ask yourself this,” George said. “Can you imagine your life without Ty?”

  “Yes, of course.” And she could. It would be the life she’d always dreamed of. But when she’d lain in bed in her tiny room in Hong Kong, dreaming those dreams, she’d imagined not only having her own artistic business but finding the perfect man. Now, how could she possibly meet a man, Chinese or not, who could measure up to Ty? A man she could love more than she loved Ty.

  Lily put down her martini glass so hard it clacked against the wooden table. “Kim may well be right. Sex, caring, and commitment are great, but you have to be practical. If two people are very different, and if there are factors working against them—like parental disapproval or whatever—it can be hard to make things work.”

  Kim gazed at her, the doctor who dressed in classy clothes and drank in classy lounges, who’d been married for ten years to a helicopter pilot. Were they having trouble making things work?

  “But not impossible,” George said. “If people are flexible and willing to work hard at it, why shouldn’t it work? Kim, I’m not saying your life wouldn’t be complicated, but it could be rewarding too.”

  Kim had been raised to believe it took hard work, every day, to achieve what you wanted. Hard work had never scared her. As for flexible . . . Well, she was when it came to yoga. Did that count?

  She thought of Ty, the man who often rose at four so he could do everything that needed to be done. How did he feel about hard work when it came to relationships? And could he, the guy who’d admitted to butting heads with his dad, be flexible?

  She valued security; she’d never been a risk-taker. Ever since she met Ty, he’d basically dared her to take one risk after another. Sex under the stars had been fun. But now, he
was asking so much more.

  If she stayed, she’d be taking huge risks. Her parents might never forgive her. Her business might fail. She and Ty might not work out, and she’d be heartbroken and alone. How could she fly, if her heart was broken?

  Thirty-three

  It had been a long weekend, the rodeo running through Monday. Ty spent the whole time trying not to remember that Kim should have been there with him. That Kim had chosen Hong Kong and her parents over him. He arrived home around midnight, tended to Sand, and then fell into bed, where sheer exhaustion sent him to sleep.

  Tuesday morning, he rose at five, glad he never needed much sleep, and went down to ranch headquarters to catch up. When he stepped through the door, he stopped dead. He’d asked his mom to drop by the gallery in Vancouver and pick up the Sun Flower painting the next time she went into town. There it hung now, across from the desk. One day, when he looked at it, maybe it would make him feel happy. Today wasn’t that day. He put his head down and got to work.

  It must’ve been an hour or two later when the sound of boots on the floor and the smell of coffee had him lifting his head. “Mornin’,” he greeted his father, gratefully taking the insulated coffee mug he handed over. “Thanks.”

  “Saw the light on.” His dad settled into a chair, his own mug in hand, and gestured toward the painting. “See your mom picked that up? I like it.”

  “Yeah.”

  “She took that sketch Kim gave us in for framing. Wants to hang it in the living room.”

  Great. He’d have reminders of Kim in the ranch office and his parents’ place. Not to mention his own house, where he couldn’t even work out in the gym without thinking of her.

  “Have bad luck at the rodeo this weekend?” his dad asked.

  “Mixed. I got a rotten draw in the bronc riding, but Sand and I won tie-down roping.”

  “Good stuff, son. And you got Rambler up to TJ Cousins okay?”

  “Yeah. Had a good visit with her and her family.”