“Why MIT?” She frowned a little at the thought of a real Texas cowboy going to school in Massachusetts. “Why not UT or Texas A&M?”
That corner of his mouth tipped up again. “I wanted to see something of the country, I guess. Spread out from these hills and oaks.” Lightning flashed and thunder boomed. He waited until it was quiet again to continue. “MIT has a great genetics program, and one of the things I’m going to focus on at my ranch is breeding. I wanted to learn all I could.”
“Did you?”
“Yeah, I did,” he said, lifting the glass to look at the wine with the firelight shining through it. “Me and a couple of other guys came up with a few things while we were there and took out a few patents.”
Her eyebrows arched. “Patents? On what?”
“A couple on different methods of breeding.”
“There are different methods?” she asked, grinning.
“I suppose there are.” He smiled. “For horses, anyway. Then we came up with a couple of other little things.”
“You’re a man of many talents, aren’t you?”
“Well now,” he said in a soft drawl, “you’re in a better position to know that than I am.”
She smiled and her body tingled. “Good point.”
“Anyway,” he said, “after graduation, I came back here and took the foreman’s job for Sterling. In a month, I’m done, though.”
A jolt of something that felt an awful lot like regret whipped through her like one of the bolts of lightning streaking across the sky. “You’re leaving?”
He shook his head. “No. Just moving on. I’ve got my own place now, and in a month that’s where I’ll be.”
“Your own ranch?” Her voice sounded wistful even to herself. “The envy continues.”
He smiled easily. “Can’t blame you. The land I picked up is beautiful. A few thousand acres of grassland and hills. It’s perfect. Got the house built last year, and the first of the herds I’m going to build are already in place.”
It sounded wonderful to Chloe. All of it. The fact that he’d gone away to college, proved himself and now was building the dream he’d wanted for years. She’d joked about being envious, but the truth was, that’s exactly how she felt. Liam Morrow was building the life he wanted while Chloe was living a second choice dream. Yes, she enjoyed the party planning, but her heart was still in ranching. Being a part of the earth, raising horses, working with them. And that’s really what had inspired her girls’ camp idea. She did want them to dream and reach for those dreams, but it was also a way for her to live out what she’d been denied.
He was still talking, describing the ranch he was building, and Chloe could see it all in her mind. It sounded wonderful and she’d love to see it in person. She wondered if this encounter with Liam would go on or if it would end with the storm.
“One thing I don’t get to this day,” Liam mused.
“What’s that?”
“Well, all the time I’ve been on the Perry Ranch, I’ve never seen Sterling take even the smallest interest in it.” Liam frowned into his wine. “He likes the house all right, likes the power of being one of the biggest ranchers in Texas, but he couldn’t give one single damn about the operating of it. I guess it’s that he has a love-hate sort of thing for the ranch. Just can’t figure out why.”
“You don’t know?” Chloe gave a short laugh of surprise.
“Know what?”
The firelight danced and flickered around the darkening room. Lightning flashed in the sky and the rumble of thunder was like a constant drumbeat.
“Oh, Cowboy, you have to get off the ranch once in a while,” Chloe said with a shake of her head. “How else will you keep up with the gossip?”
“Not interested in the local grapevine, thanks.”
“But that’s where all the information you want is,” Chloe teased, and when she didn’t get any reaction at all, she sighed a little and said, “Men clearly have no appreciation for the little things. Sterling Perry loves that ranch but you’re right, he hates it too.”
“That’s not telling me anything I don’t already know.”
She took a sip of wine. “I’m just getting started. Sterling’s still furious over his late wife, Tamara, and the red-hot ranch hand she had an affair with.”
“What?”
Grinning now, Chloe got into storytelling mode. Fine. Gossiping wasn’t nice, but she wasn’t too proud to admit that she liked keeping up-to-date on what was happening—and didn’t mind sharing with the pitifully ignorant. “Sterling was actually the foreman on what was then the York Ranch. Then he married the owner’s daughter, Tamara. The rumor is that Tamara apparently had a passionate affair with one of their ranch hands. Ryder Currin.”
“Currin?” Liam blinked. “The oil baron?”
“The very one,” Chloe said, and held her glass out for Liam to refill it. Once he had, she leaned back against the chair behind her and settled into talking. “Tamara was ten years older than Ryder at the time, but apparently that didn’t stop anything. They say the affair kept going on even when Ryder was married. It was the talk of the town back then. I know because my mother and her friends aren’t exactly known for their whispering talents.”
“How did I never hear any of this?” he asked.
“Clearly, you’re not hanging out with the right people,” Chloe told him. “Anyway, when Tamara’s father died, Sterling could finally get off a horse and into an office. He fired Ryder, and no one saw him again until the will reading. Tamara’s father left Ryder a strip of land and not too long after that, Ryder struck oil.”
“It sounds like a soap opera.”
“Doesn’t it?” she asked brightly. “Anyway, Sterling was furious about Ryder’s inheritance and started talk that Ryder actually blackmailed Tamara into getting her father to leave him the land. Even though Tamara passed away years ago, Ryder and Sterling are still mortal enemies. Doesn’t that sound dramatic?”
“That’s one word for it. But how do you know if any of it’s true?”
She lifted one shoulder and let the blanket slide down just a bit. She was rewarded when she saw his eyes flash. “Of course, there’s a chance it’s not true at all. But, after watching my own parents wheel and deal all my life, I’m really not surprised by any of it.”
“Your father had an affair, too?”
She laughed and shook her head. “Oh, no. My father only cares about perception. How things look to the outside world. He and my mother are quite alike there. Neither of them would ever have an affair because then they might not be thought of as perfect anymore.” Chloe actually winced when she’d finished, as if she couldn’t believe she’d just said all of that to a virtual stranger. A stranger who knew every inch of her body. She shivered.
“Wow. You don’t hold back, do you?”
She met his gaze and shook her head. “No. I grew up on polite lies and pretension. That’s not how I’m going to live my life anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I love my parents—I’m just not interested in being what they want me to be.”
“Which is?”
“Do you really care about all of this?” she asked suddenly. “I mean yesterday we didn’t know each other at all.”
“And today I know you’ve got a birthmark shaped like a teardrop on the inside of your right thigh,” Liam said softly.
Heat pooled in her core as she remembered just how much attention he’d paid to that particular mark. And how much she wanted him to repeat that experience.
“So to answer your question, yeah. I really want to know.”
Nodding, Chloe took another sip of wine. “Okay. They want me to be another link in the Hemsworth chain. Don’t stand out. Don’t be different. March in lockstep with family tradition and don’t draw attention to yourself.” She stopped, inhaled sharply and said, “Wow, that sounded really bitter, didn’
t it?”
“Little bit,” he agreed. “But I get it. You want to run your own life. Hard to argue with that.”
“Thank you,” she said, “but you’d be surprised how few people I know agree with you.”
He gave her a long look. “Maybe you know the wrong people.”
Maybe she did at that. After all, her friends were women she’d grown up with, who were all taking the route expected of them. She was the black sheep. The one who made waves and trod down the path less traveled and good God, how many clichés could she think in one sentence?
“Well, now I know you.” Really well, she added silently.
“Yeah,” he said, “you do.”
“Don’t sound so excited about it.”
He smiled a little and shook his head. “No, I’m just doing some thinking.”
“About?”
“That camp of yours.”
Chloe held her breath. Judging by his expression, he wasn’t going to be giving her the answer she wanted. So even before he spoke, Chloe prepared her arguments.
“I’m willing to try it.”
“What?” Stunned, she could only stare at him.
“Yeah, surprised me too,” he admitted. “But I’m willing to give this a shot under one condition.”
Chloe held her breath and waited.
Five
Angela Perry took another batch of corn bread out of the oven and set the tray on a wire rack to cool. Setting the hot pads aside, she walked back into the main room and saw a few new faces. The rain was still falling, though it seemed to be easing up a bit now. Still, it didn’t stop stranded people from making their way into the shelter. The roads were still impassable, so she was grateful the shelter was well set up to handle a crowd.
Children shrieked with laughter and chased each other through the worried adults, huddled together in small groups. The scent of coffee hung in the air, mingled with the aroma of a huge pot of chili. There were cots dotting the main floor and volunteers streaming in and out of the kitchen. But she had eyes for only one of those people pitching in to help.
Ryder Currin.
Angela hadn’t seen him since that fund-raiser for the Houston TCC. The night she’d overheard the ugly rumors about Ryder’s affair with her mother. The night she’d walked right up to him and slapped him across the face in front of everyone.
She closed her eyes briefly at the memory. Yes, she’d been furious. But more hurt than anything else. How could she be so attracted to a man who had slept with her mother?
“Oh, God...”
“Are you okay, honey?”
Angela took a breath and smiled at the woman looking at her through worried brown eyes. African American, Mavis was short, curvy and her gray hair was cut close to her head, the better to display huge gold hoops dangling from her ears. She kept the shelter running, donations pouring in and made sure everyone who stepped through the doors felt welcome and important.
Angela considered herself fortunate to have such a friend. “Yes, Mavis, I’m fine. Thanks. Just tired, I guess.”
And she felt ashamed of herself for saying so. Mavis had been cooking all night, serving the people who staggered in wet, bedraggled, terrified and had hardly sat down for a cup of coffee.
Angela had been working with Mavis here at the shelter for a few years now, and the woman never looked tired, despite having at least twenty years on Angela. The woman was an inspiration and, apparently, indefatigable.
“Oh, you go and sit down for a bit.” Mavis gave her a one-armed hug and a pat. “Have some tea. Good for the body, good for the soul.”
Right now she could use both. Angela was tired, true, but that wasn’t really bothering her. She’d been tired before and would be again. It was Ryder Currin haunting her. She couldn’t stop looking at him. Watching him.
“I can plainly see who you’ve got your eye on,” Mavis mused with a knowing smile.
“What? Oh.” Caught, she simply stopped talking. No point in trying to deny it after all.
Smiling, Mavis said, “I saw Ryder helping you bring in the extra cots from the supply room.”
He had. In fact he’d helped her several times during the storm. He’d been polite, respectful. He hadn’t once brought up the TCC party or the slap—though Angela had the feeling he wanted to talk to her. She just hadn’t given him the chance, because she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to hear what he might say. But in spite of everything, there was a simmering burn between them she couldn’t deny. Just looking at him from across the room made her heart beat a little faster, fanning the flames of a slow simmer in her blood.
“Ryder’s a good man,” Mavis said. “God knows, he’s been a big help to us here at the shelter.”
“Well, we’re all doing what we can in an emergency.”
“Oh no, honey.” Mavis shook her head and patted Angela’s forearm. “It’s not just this storm. Ryder’s been helping us out for years.”
“Really?” Stunned, Angela stared at her friend. How could she not have known that? She’d been working with the shelter for a long time and until today, she’d never run into Ryder. She wouldn’t have pictured him as a man interested in volunteering. Giving back. Was that terrible of her? In her defense, she’d never seen her own father care about anything outside the business and the family name. Heck, most men with the kind of wealth Ryder Currin had amassed were only interested in getting more.
“Oh yes. You saw that new Viking stove we’ve got in the kitchen? Ryder bought that for us.” Mavis gave the man a smile, though he didn’t see her do it. “His late wife, Elinah, God rest her, was very involved here at the shelter. And he came along most times, I think because he was just so crazy about her.”
She paused and the expression on Mavis’s face became reflective, sympathetic. “Since he lost her, I think this shelter represents his last link to her. He donates food, those cots you carried in, so many things. I couldn’t name everything he’s done for us. And he never even accepts a thank-you. A good man,” she said with a wink, “and a stubborn one. He’s had his troubles, we all do. But he reaches out to people, and that says a lot about him as far as I’m concerned.”
It said plenty, Angela agreed silently as Mavis moved off to help a young mother with her baby. Watching Ryder now, Angela tried to compare the man she thought she knew with the one Mavis had just described. If he’d loved his wife Elinah so much that he continued with her contributions to the shelter as a tribute to her, could he really have cheated on her with Angela’s mother?
Now Angela had to wonder if she’d made a mistake in believing those rumors.
As if he could feel her gaze, Ryder suddenly looked up and across the room, straight into her eyes.
Angela felt a rush of something confusing swim through her bloodstream. Drawn to him, horrified by the rumors about him and her mother and touched by what Mavis had said about the man, she felt as if she had been blindfolded and spun in circles. She simply didn’t know what to think anymore.
As if hypnotized, Angela stood perfectly still and watched as he walked toward her, a tall man in a long-sleeved white shirt, black jeans and hard-worn, black boots. His dark blond hair was a little long and his dark blue eyes shone with purpose as he approached, and Angela thought she’d never seen a man walk with more confidence, more rugged masculinity oozing from every pore. And she had never in her life met a man who affected her as he did.
The question was, had her mother once felt the same?
“Angela,” he said when he stopped just inches from her, “I think we should talk about what happened.”
Would talking make it worse? She didn’t know. “Ryder—”
He held up one hand, but it wasn’t a command for quiet, more of a silent plea for her to listen. “I know why you slapped me that night.” His voice was low and soft, and he gave a quick look around to be sure th
ey weren’t being overheard. Then he looked at her with such complete focus she felt as if he were staring directly into her soul. “Look, I heard the rumors you must have been reacting to. I couldn’t believe they were springing up again, like mushrooms after a hard rain.” He shook his head and muttered, “Probably because of the new TCC. People just naturally take sides in old rivalries.”
“That’s what this is? Rivalries?”
He looked at her. “Honestly, I don’t know. What I do know is that it’s just rumors. Angela, I’m asking you to let me tell you the truth.”
His eyes met hers and held her in thrall. That’s the only word that could explain why she felt as if she were caught in amber. Paralyzed. Unable to look away.
What she might have said, Angela wasn’t sure, but whatever it was died unuttered when the young couple who’d arrived a few hours ago with their two small children came rushing up. The man—Hank—grabbed Ryder’s arm.
“Our little girl’s missing. Our Junebug. She’s just...” He looked around, clearly frantic. “Gone.”
Hank’s wife, Rose, slapped one hand to her heart and kept a firm grip on her little boy with the other. Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. “She was there a second ago. I turned to talk to someone and when I looked back...”
Mavis was nearby and overheard. She hurried to join them, swept that scared little boy up into her arms and said, “Now, don’t you two worry. I’ll take care of him. You all go find little June. She’s probably scared and lost, poor thing. This old building is so big, even I get turned around from time to time.”
“She’s right.” Ryder took charge and Angela had to admire that. His voice was low and steady, and got through Hank’s panic and Rose’s fears. “Mavis will take care of your boy, and you don’t need to worry on that score. Hank, you and Rose take the upstairs. Angela and I will search down here.” He reached out and clapped one hand on Hank’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. She can’t have gone far. We’ll find her.”
“Okay.” Hank took a breath and seemed to gather himself, reaching for strength for his wife’s sake, if not his own. “That’s a good plan.” Hank grabbed Rose’s hand and the two of them headed for the stairs.
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