All that water that was sometimes too cold to wade into.
She shook her head and the image vanished.
Again she checked her watch. Almost twenty-five minutes now. How much time would it have taken Glory to get to the ranch? How much longer to organize searchers? It was a big spread, a lot of ground to cover. Maybe she should sit and wait. But she couldn’t.
Five more minutes passed. She wiped her forehead with her sleeve. Too much sweat, losing moisture too fast. The air was heavy, hard to breathe.
Her senses had dulled to the extent she was operating on a mechanical level—one step and then one more—when she spied a red truck in the distance, steadily approaching. She squinted. Mirage? Like the ocean?
The pickup slowed to a stop about a dozen yards away. She resumed walking, steps no faster or slower. Reed’s figure behind the wheel remained motionless for an instant, then he twisted and reached behind him. Next he stepped down from the cab and fired one shot into the sky. He climbed back up into the cab, replaced the rifle in its mount, leaned across the seat and pushed open the passenger’s door. The windows were down. She wanted the truck’s air conditioning but didn’t have the breath to say so.
She climbed onto the seat. He held a wet cloth with which he wiped her face, then he put the canteen to her mouth.
“Easy,” he cautioned, not giving it up when she grasped it with both hands. “Just a little. You can have more in a minute.”
She wanted the whole thing right then and there and had to force herself not to fight for it. He allowed two small sips, then pushed her hat aside and poured water onto the top of her head. She didn’t know which was the more welcome, drinking it or having it poured over the top of her.
He poured more water onto the cloth, then unbuttoned the top buttons of her shirt. Unable to think clearly, she just looked at him. His eyes met hers, then briefly turned amused, as if reading where her mind was going. He rubbed the wet cloth over her neck and shoulders, then left it draped around her neck. He allowed her to sip from the canteen, more this time, then leaned back against his door. “You look pretty good, considering. A little worse for wear, maybe, but you’re okay. Feel all right?”
“Um,” she managed. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back.
“I’ve followed easier trails than ‘yonder’ before.”
“Sorry about that.” Her voice cracked, but it worked.
“That was a jolt when Glory came in without you. Had us all worried, especially Miles.”
Lainie thought he was being too easy on her. She’d expected him to lay into her with everything he had. She motioned for the canteen, and he handed it over. She behaved herself, taking small sips, then held it in her lap. “Is Glory okay?”
“She’s good. What happened?”
“I got thrown.”
He chuckled. “Not sure if that was a stupid question or a stupid answer. How did you get thrown?”
“Glory got startled by a jackrabbit.”
“Could’ve been worse. Could’ve been a snake.”
“Yeah.” She was wearing her boots. Maybe that was why he was being so easy to get along with.
He straightened to look through the windshield. Lainie followed his gaze and saw a small dust storm approaching. She squinted, then recognized Miles’s SUV.
“He must’ve heard the rifle shot. Meant you were okay and everyone could go home, but it appears he has to see for himself.” Looking across at her, Reed rested his hand on her knee. “He took it hard when that horse came in by itself, and he might come down kind of hard on you. Take it easy, okay?”
So that was why Reed hadn’t lit into her; he knew Miles would. But other than giving voice to the flippant yonder, she’d done nothing wrong. She might have scared a few people, including herself, but she hadn’t done anything wrong.
The truck rocked to a halt on Lainie’s side. The windows were down and dust swirled inside. Miles emerged and was instantly at her window.
“You all right?” His voice was so hushed it seemed he feared the answer.
“Yes, I—”
He jerked the door open. His eyes examined her length, head to feet and back up again. “Need a doctor?”
“No, I—”
His gaze shot across her to Reed. “Heat stroke? Dehydration?”
“Don’t see indication of it.”
As Miles stared at Lainie, his body appeared to sag. His energy seemed to drain along with his tension. He nodded, then closed the pickup’s door. He took the few steps to his truck and got behind the wheel. The windows rolled up. He drove away at a slower pace than he’d arrived.
Lainie stared after the receding vehicle, then looked at Reed. His gaze remained on the distant SUV.
“What is it about you that makes Miles back off?” he asked, as if talking to himself.
“Back off? Miles backs off on me?” She’d seen no sign of that. And why would he? He deals differently with women? Reed possibly hadn’t had occasion to see his boss interact with members of the fairer sex—other than Rosalie, who might have been around longer than Reed had.
“Yeah.” He watched her now, eyes narrowed. “I’ve seen hints of it. Little here, little there. He was worse than scared when Glory showed up without you. Lit into both Nelly and me because we let you go out in the first place, on horseback, by yourself, without a detailed itinerary and a map and a bodyguard, and other things that didn’t make a whole lot of sense. Even Randy got it when he returned from town, and he’d left before you even saddled up.”
“But none of you were at fault. It sounds like the three of you got it instead of—”
“Don’t worry about it. They can take care of themselves. So can I.” He continued watching her, his face reflecting his recent strain of worry. Mingled with it was the relief of having found her in one piece, then visibly he shrugged everything off.
“The bottom line is still that one rifle shot. You’re found and you’re safe. Don’t mind admitting what a welcome sight it was to see you walking under your own power.”
“Was kind of glad to see you, too.”
He situated himself behind the wheel and switched on the ignition. “Time to get you home. You might as well take the rest of the day off. Doubtful Miles would let you do anything else anyway.”
The air conditioner came to life and the windows rolled up. Looking her way, he waited, then asked, “Can you manage that seat belt by yourself?”
“Oh. Yeah.”
The truck started moving. She took another sip of water, grateful for the cool air washing over her, and watched Texas real estate roll by. As the pickup ate up the miles, she developed a strong suspicion she was going to be very sore come morning.
Reed drove her to her door. She climbed down, surprised at how stiff she already was, and hobbled inside. She swallowed two Advil tablets, took a long soak in the tub, dressed lightly and sacked out on the bed. She propped her head on pillows and found ambition enough to read.
Dinner chimes hadn’t yet rung when she heard a light knock then her front door opened.
“Lainie?”
“Oh.” At the sound of Reed’s voice she screwed her face up. She lay on her back atop the bedspread, wearing a skimpy white tank top and short pink shorts.
“You okay?” Then he was in the open doorway of her bedroom, giving her no time to even sit up. He gave her a long up-and-down look, gaze lingering where it wanted to, then he settled in the rocker without being invited. “If you’d known I was coming, you would’ve put a bra on, right?”
He was so right on target that a laugh burst out of her. She set the book aside. It wasn’t big enough to cover anything anyway.
He sat back, propped a foot on his knee and started the rocker going with a boot heel. “You sore?”
She blew her breath out in a wry laugh. “Oh, yeah, you could say that.”
“Anything hurt enough you think it needs a doctor’s attention?”
She shook her head.
“Th
en you’re all right.” His gaze explored again, his face sobered and his voice softened. “More than all right.”
For the second time since she’d heard him at her front door, she thought being anywhere near a bed with Reed Smith in the same room wasn’t a good idea.
His eyes finally worked themselves back up to hers. He said offhandedly, “Don’t worry about it. You’re way too sore for me to try anything.”
She frowned at her bright-pink toenails. She was that easy to read?
When they heard the chimes signaling dinner, he got to his feet. “That’s my cue. I get corn on the cob and pot roast. You and Nelly get tuna salad sandwiches. Promised Rosalie I’d deliver them.”
“I can—”
“Yeah, you could, but there’s no need. Stay there and relax. I’ll be back in a minute.”
At the doorway, he paused, then turned back. A subtle change in his expression made her hold her breath. Their gazes held for a long moment, and Lainie thought for the third time that being on top of a bed with Reed Smith in the same room wasn’t a good idea.
He walked back, his intention right up front in that sexy, dare-anything look. “Maybe, before you eat that fishy sandwich—”
“No.”
He sat on the edge of the bed.
She raised a hand, in warning and as a plea. “I’m too sore. Remember?”
“Then don’t fight me.”
“Reed—”
He caught her hands before she could use them, pinning them on either side of her head. She had no choice but to allow his lips to meet hers. He wasn’t aggressive, wasn’t hurting her; instead he was as gentle and loving and tantalizing as it was possible to be. She needed to stop him, stop this, but didn’t. She made a sound deep in her throat, of pleasure, surrender, even she wasn’t sure. He raised his head, looked into her eyes for a long moment, then kissed her again. It was still sweet and lazy, but deeper, hotter, and could turn her on fire if she let it.
But she couldn’t afford to. Her fingers grew rigid as she strained against his hold. He let go and lifted his head, but remained sitting on the side of the bed.
“Why?” he asked, voice sounding ragged. “You want me as much as I want you. Why are you fighting it so hard?”
“Because we could get in too deep.” He had to see the honesty in that. She tried for lightness. “You don’t want me to go back to California with a broken heart, do you?”
“I don’t want you to go back to California. Period.”
She shrugged, surprised she could be so casual. She felt anything but casual. “But I will.”
He held her gaze for a very long moment. “We’ll see.”
He stood and walked away. In the doorway, he paused, then turned back.
She tensed. He smiled.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Was just thinking maybe you should meet me at the front door with your sandwich. Might not be safe visiting you in your bedroom again.”
She hadn’t invited him in here, but she knew how difficult it was to best this guy, verbally or any other way. As she held her silence, his cocky look grew, then he turned and left.
She scrunched up her face and looked at the ceiling. He was good at that. He was too damned good at reading her.
*
Morning found Lainie so stiff and sore that she fancied she could hear her bones creak as she moved. She downed a couple Advil tablets and then turned in slow circles under the hot shower water until it ran cold.
Miles sat alone at the table when she entered the dining room. She filled a plate, poured coffee and joined him. She sat gingerly, trying not to be obvious about it.
“Good morning, early bird,” she said. “Surprised to see you up already. Something special going on?”
He didn’t return her greeting, but she figured he probably wasn’t awake yet.
Today’s eggs had diced scallions, tomatoes, and crumbled bacon in them. She examined them, wondering if there was something in the mixture she couldn’t see. Maybe she’d be safer with just toast. “Are these hot?” she asked. “With seasoning, I mean.”
“No.” He glanced at her plate. He seemed more distracted than sleepy. “You’re safe enough with eggs. Tamale pie is the only thing Rosalie makes special for Reed.”
She tested a small amount, relaxed and took a bigger forkful. As she ate, she studied Miles. “Is something wrong?”
Meeting her eyes for the first time, he gave her a slight shake of his head. “No, nothing wrong. Just have a change in mind I want to talk over with you before I talk to Nelly and Reed.”
Uh-oh, she thought, dreading the coming confrontation—and there was going to be one. If it concerned Nelly, it involved her riding privileges. Because of yesterday’s misadventure, she’d suspected an attempt might be made to curtail her riding freedom, but she’d expected it from Reed. When he’d leaned casually against the door of the pickup, she’d thought she’d bypassed the problem. Not so, she now realized. She put her fork down and watched Miles.
“We’ve been lax,” he said carefully. Her impression was that he was measuring his words. “And doing so we’ve allowed a dangerous situation to develop. Yesterday could’ve had a different outcome, a tragic one. You’re not used to the terrain, weather, or horses. We need to talk—you, me, Reed and Nelly—and come up with a system where you can ride, yet be safe.”
Yep, exactly what she’d suspected. In Miles’s generation, women were sheltered; most likely, that was what Reed had picked up on in Miles’s relationship with his secretary. All other riders at the ranch were big strong cowboys who’d learned how to ride before they’d learned how to drive. The reaction to yesterday’s incident was to protect the only female by bestowing upon her, for her own good, of course, a different set of rules from everyone else.
But being treated differently, unequally, made Lainie dependent, gave her little chance to succeed or excel, and struck at her self-respect. In the long run—and she couldn’t understand how so many people, male and female alike, hadn’t been able to grasp this simple fact—protecting one from life’s perils so often made one even more vulnerable to those perils.
She shook her head. “No. I will not accept a babysitter.”
His eyes narrowed. “That’s not what I’m proposing.”
She ignored the warning in his voice. “Then what are you proposing?”
He didn’t respond, and she saw the veil lowering over his features that told her the discussion was over. He made an impatient move to push his chair back.
“This is a biggie, Miles. It’s a deal breaker.”
He paused in the act of standing, sat back down. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
“That means I won’t allow you to take away any of my freedom around here.”
Miles clearly wasn’t used to defiance. If Lainie didn’t back down, she was going to be on her way home. But if Miles didn’t back down, she was going to be on her way home anyway. This was a lose–lose situation.
She put her hands palm down on the table, stared at them, then looked back up. “Reed rode with me until he was sure I could handle myself before he okayed me riding on my own. Why don’t you go out with me, too, and see for yourself if I can do it or not?”
His long stare made her uncomfortable and she fidgeted, then she grew impatient as well. She pushed her chair back, figuring she might as well go and get started packing.
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s go riding.”
While he saddled Irish, she saddled Glory. Nelly studied his boss.
Miles mounted and led the way out, expecting Lainie to follow, and the next half-hour continued in that vein. He might not have been on top of a horse in a while, but he managed himself and Irish without a problem. Silently, he led Glory and Lainie through every gait possible. He executed some quick-about turns she was able to follow, and once he surprised her by sharply pulling Irish in close to Glory. Glory shied and reared, but Lainie didn’t panic. She maintained control, exercising sore muscles in
order to do it, and gritted her teeth against a groan. Taking even more effort, she managed not to voice the coarse oath that came to mind.
“All right,” he mumbled finally. “Looks like you can handle yourself and your horse.” He didn’t appear pleased with the fact.
When they returned to the stable, Lainie maintained a stoic expression as she dismounted, not wanting to advertise how physically uncomfortable she was. She looked up, caught Nelly’s gaze, and realized she wasn’t hiding anything from him. And she noted that the attention he’d centered on Miles before their ride was now on her.
She frowned.
He turned to his boss. “Be happy to do that for you, Mr. Miles.”
Miles glanced his way, and Lainie caught his spark of annoyance, as if he suspected his stable hand thought him incapable of stripping his horse and properly grooming it. But his expression cleared as his gaze locked with that of the elderly slight man, and his tension disappeared.
Lainie looked from one to the other. How could they communicate like that, evidently understanding each other without either saying a word?
“Much obliged, Nelly.” Miles strode away without a backward glance.
Nelly turned to her. “Need to talk to you, little missy.”
Wearily, she closed her eyes. She’d been poised to fight this battle with Reed yesterday, then Miles this morning, and now Nelly, too? She leaned her head against Glory’s muscled neck. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“That’s right. Not you. Me.”
She looked up.
“When I asked yesterday where you’re goin’ and you said ‘yonder,’ I just laughed and watched you ride outta here, thinkin’ how natural you look on top of a horse and about all you done learned since you got here.”
She furrowed her brow as she tried to figure out where he was going.
“Then when that horse came back by itself, tellin’ us you needed help, I didn’t know where to find you and that made me all worried and helpless and scared. So I mean to change things so that don’t ever happen again. When you want to go ridin’, you think about where you want to go and you tell me. And if you think you might be deviatin’ from that course, you tell me that, too. And once you’re out there, you don’t add any other place you didn’t tell me about. That’s all I’m askin’.”
Lone Tree Page 14
