by Alison Kent
“Me, too.” It was an automatic response. She wasn’t even sure if she meant it. She was pretty sure she didn’t feel it, or anything else for that matter.
He gave a single nod then slid behind the wheel, waiting until he was a hundred yards from the house before punching the accelerator and stirring up another wall of dust and dry dirt.
Josh cleared his throat. “Looks like you got your answer.”
She stood where she was until Greg’s car disappeared, then turned and walked into Josh, purposefully this time, wrapping her arms around him and hoping he didn’t care that her tears were ruining his perfectly laundered khaki shirt.
He was solid. A rock. He didn’t move except to place his hands on her shoulders and squeeze.
“I never wanted to be an attorney, you know,” she told him, her fingers making a wrinkled mess of the fabric at his back where the shirt hung loose above his tightly cinched belt.
“What did you want?”
“For my mother to pay as much attention to our family as to the ones she did for show. For my father to stop drinking long enough to remember he had a daughter.” She closed her eyes, squeezed them tight, took a deep shuddering breath. “For my brother to come home.”
Josh stepped back, claimed her chin with one hand and waited for her to look up. She did, her vision blurry but clear enough to see there was no question in his eyes, no request for permission, nothing but the certainty he wanted her to see.
Her heart fluttered and anticipation rose the hair at her nape and—oh, God—his head came down, his mouth opening before he pressed it to hers, and she thought she might very well die.
He kissed her softly, held her face with his hands, used his tongue against hers, used his lips, too, and his teeth, nibbling and nipping, leaving her mouth to explore her jaw, her neck, coming back and threading his fingers into her hair to keep her still.
She couldn’t have moved if she’d wanted to. He was gentle, caring, and kind, and she held on for dear life, scared by the idea of letting him go. And because of that she had to. She could lean on him, but she had to stand on her own two feet or she’d never find her way.
Knowing that, she allowed herself one more minute to indulge, to step into him, to press her body against his and feel his thighs along her thighs and his belt buckle against her belly, and the lines of his ribs hard on her breasts.
She rubbed his back—his spine, his shoulder blades, his waist—slipping just the tips of her fingers between his shirt and his jeans, and only for a moment, then she brought her hands to his face, smoothing her thumbs over his cheeks before breaking the kiss.
“Thank you,” she whispered, still tasting him… coffee and warmth and Josh. “For being here. For coming to see me. For picking up my car. For lending—”
“Enough,” he said, his eyes glittering, his lashes, pale and thick, sweeping down. A vein pulsed at his temple. His jaw clicked as he ground it. But finally he let her go, her hair sifting slowly through his fingers, his fingers lingering on her shoulder, then her arm, until he found hers and laced their hands and squeezed. “I want to see you.”
She didn’t insult him by pretending not to know what he meant. She just nodded, smiled, and told him, “Okay.”
EIGHTEEN
DAX REINED HIS horse to the far left, Boone rode the middle, and Casper, on Remedy, held to the right. Along with Bing and Bob, the Daltons’ aging border collies, the three men brought up the rear as they moved the small band of cow-calf pairs from the pasture they’d grazed the last few weeks to the next in the rotation.
The early morning sun was blinding, the temperature already on its way to triple digits. But the view, as brown as it was, left Dax totally blissed, and for not the first time wondering why he’d felt the need to cowboy anywhere else.
There was nothing like the dome of sky blue that covered Texas, high and wide and endless. Or the mountains of white clouds suspended there, still as their rocky counterparts, puffed like kids’ cheeks in a spitting contest.
Hell, what he’d give for their big daddies to roll in, monsters in gray and black, vomiting thunder and lightning and gallons of lifesaving rain. He wanted to stand in the wide-open spaces when it finally happened, head back and arms spread and open mouth catching the downpour until he drowned.
In the meantime, he’d sweat and bake and turn as crisp as everything around him, and do a whole lot of praying. Moving the pairs as often as they were going to need to wasn’t the most efficient way to run an operation. Dave Dalton and sixteen years had taught him that. But Mother Nature hadn’t left them much choice.
If this was a good year, a wet year, grass growing and creeks running high, their acreage could easily support the cattle Tess had left them—as well as the head she’d had little choice but to sell at the beginning of this six-month drought.
This wasn’t a good year. Wells were near to dry. Grass wasn’t growing as much as dying. The state of things made it easy to understand Henry Lasko being hell-bent on getting his hands on their land, but it wasn’t going to happen.
Overall the animals looked healthy, maybe a bit on the thin side, but the hay Tess had lined up weeks before he and the boys took over made up for the shortage of grass, and kept them from having to sell off any more of the herd.
Good thing, too, because Faith was none too happy they were having to float that bill along with a lot of others. Selling underfed beef at a loss was just one more hit they didn’t need, yet it was hard to ask for extensions from folks in just as tight binds.
“Hee-ya! Hee-ya! Hee-ya, motherfuckers!”
At Casper’s yell, Dax glanced over to see him running down two mommas and babies who’d cut away from the rest and gone renegade. He laughed so hard he snorted. Casper had been the only one of the three to rodeo, meaning he could rope and ride like a son of a bitch, but he’d forgotten a whole lot of what he’d learned about herding.
Boone reined Sunshine closer to Dax, gave a jerk of his head in Casper’s direction. “Guess he’ll remember what he’s doing sooner or later.”
Dax watched the two mommas drop down the other side of a rise and cut through a stand of mesquite, Bing hot on their heels. “Even if he doesn’t, Bing’ll have to be the one to give him a hand. I’ve got heifers coming out of my ears over here.”
“Huh. How’s Darcy doing with the housecleaning?”
Frowning, Dax looked over. “Speaking of heifers, you mean?”
“No, asshole,” Boone said, frowning back. “It was just a question. Kinda looking forward to moving in when she’s done and bulldozing the bunkhouse to the ground.”
“Darcy’s doing fine, as far as I know. She hasn’t talked much about it.” Then he registered the rest of what Boone had said. “You think we should doze the bunkhouse?”
“Diego’s got a pop-up on his truck. Fully loaded and enough room for his nephew.” He stood in his stirrups to get a better view of Casper and Bing, and then settled back in his seat. “Unless Casper can’t get his shit together, we won’t need to hire on anyone who might use it. No reason I can see not to clear it out of there. Maybe use the space for a new barn. Down the road. Put it up as we can, tear down the other once it’s done. No rush on any of it, a’ course.”
“Guess you’re right.” Though it was obvious they were all still reluctant to move in to the house. They could do so now and let Darcy work around them, but they hadn’t. Wrecking the bunkhouse would take the decision out of their hands. Made sense, he supposed.
They rode in silence for several minutes, listening to Casper in the near distance. Boone finally said, “Gotta admit, it’s nice having supper waiting at the end of the day.”
Dax’s frown deepened. “As long as you don’t get used to it. Darcy won’t be living with us long term.”
Boone gave a shrug. “If you say so.”
What the hell was that? “Uh-uh. We don’t do sisters. Never have. You know that better than me, but you know it.”
“That sister rule was
awhile ago.”
Boone had put his foot down in high school. But this wasn’t high school, and Dax wasn’t liking the sound of things, and so he countered. “You clearing the way for me to go after Faith?”
“Hell no. You’ve got Arwen. You don’t need Faith.”
His having Arwen was giving Dax hell, especially after their movie date and the things they’d done on her couch. “Casper, then. If I recall correctly, he’s the one the rule was written for in the first place.”
“Shit. Casper can’t even manage two skinny cows and their runt calves. You think he’s going to handle Faith?”
Point made. Still… “I’m pretty sure there’s a reason Josh Lasko’s truck’s been sitting in front of the house the last few days.”
This time Boone was the one who frowned. “Darcy and Lasko? You think?”
“I dunno. Just putting it out there.” Mostly because he didn’t want to think about his sister with Boone. Not that he wanted to think about her with Josh Lasko either. In fact, he pretty much preferred not thinking about his sister that way at all.
“Speaking of Lasko,” Boone said, adjusting the brim of his hat against the sun before going on, “I’ve been thinking some more about Tess and the lease.”
“Yeah? How so?”
“We could use the money.”
They could, but they needed the land as much as Henry. “And these cows are going to graze where?”
“Say we lease him fifteen hundred acres. He can run two hundred head or so and we can use the cash to supplement our feed.”
“You been reading a stupid guide to ranching?”
“No. I’ve been looking at the books with Faith.”
Oh. That. Still… “Calves get sold next month. We’ll need those fifteen hundred acres once we start breeding again.”
Boone gave a loud huff. “And if it doesn’t rain soon? What good will those fifteen hundred acres be then?”
“Making it Lasko’s problem, you’re saying?”
“Something like that.”
“You run this by Faith?” Because as much as he liked the idea of the income, such a deal had mega potential to bite them on the ass. It could too easily look like they were unloading worthless acreage. Then again… “I mean, Henry obviously knew the risks or he wouldn’t have had the papers drawn up for Tess to sign.”
“Yeah, but I dunno. Might be worth it. Might not,” Boone said. “I was mostly thinking out loud. Wondering if we could figure out something that would benefit both outfits and make Faith happy.”
From the far side of the rise they heard another loud, and this time angry, “Hee-ya! Hee-ya! Hee-ya, motherfuckers!”
Dax fought to keep a straight face, nudging Flash’s flanks before saying, “You know, I’ll bet Casper could make Faith happy.”
Boone let loose a long string of expletives and gave Sunshine her head.
But Dax was way ahead of him, reins in one hand, hat jammed in place with the other, laughing like an asylum inmate as the quarter horse lived up to her name.
NINETEEN
“I’M NOT SURE what happened exactly. All I know is that he’s at Coleman Medical and his wife is nowhere to be found, which is the weirdest part of it all.”
Two days after her date with Dax, Arwen was having hell concentrating on work. She was bound in raw emotion, struggling to break the intimate, visceral ties that had been too much a part of the sex to separate from the physical act. That bothered her. A lot. It meant she wasn’t working Dax out of her system but opening up, taking him deeper. They were mating in ways having nothing to do with their bodies.
If she wasn’t careful, she’d never be able to get rid of him, she mused, and groaned.
With her discipline shot, the hallway gossip had no trouble snagging her attention, even though her focus should’ve been on the campaign her advertising firm had put together for the Hellcat Saloon. And this was why she had to rein in her relationship with Dax, back to the sex it was supposed to be. She had a business to run, a business that was her life. He and his amazing cock had to go. Soon.
Curious and totally distracted and desperately in need of a break, she glanced from her monitor to the two girls still whispering outside her office door. She saw Callie’s black hair netted at her nape, and Luck’s blond ponytail swinging between her shoulder blades. Then, swearing she heard the name Wallace Campbell, she left her chair, circled her desk, and eavesdropped in plain sight.
“He collapsed at the office this morning,” Callie was saying, glancing from Arwen to Luck and back. “Stacy was on her way in on her bike and had to stop for the ambulance. Greg Barrett was the only one there. She heard him talking to the paramedics.”
Unless a Campbell and Associates client had gone down, they were talking about Wallace Campbell. No one else worked with Greg now that Darcy was gone. At least not that Arwen had heard, and with the way gossip flowed in the saloon…
She stepped out into the hallway. “Wallace Campbell? He’s in the hospital?”
Callie nodded, her blue eyes dramatically wide. “My sister called. She’s a nurse in the ER. He had a heart attack. It’s bad.”
“Oh, God.” Arwen’s hands flew up to cover her mouth. Her heart pounded, lodged at the base of her throat and choked her. “Has anyone told Darcy? Or Dax?”
“I don’t know.” Luck shrugged helplessly. “No one has seen Darcy in days. She’s not picking up her cell. Her office and home lines go to a machine. I don’t think anyone has Dax’s cell number. And no one ever answers the phone at the ranch.”
Arwen ran her hands into her hair and held it away from her face, thinking. Dax would be riding herd. Darcy would be at the house. “I know how to reach him. And I know where Darcy is. I’ll go see them. I’ll tell them. I’ll let them know.”
Luck and Callie exchanged looks, and Luck was the one to ask, “Arwen? Are you all right?”
She had to get to Dax. She didn’t know why. He hadn’t spoken to his father in sixteen years. She couldn’t imagine that he’d want to speak to him now, but him knowing about his father’s condition was all that mattered. He had to know. He had to.
“I’m all right. I’m fine.” She let her hair fall, grabbed Luck’s arm. “I know it’s lunch rush and I know we’re slammed and I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go. Can you keep it together?”
“Yes. Of course. Go do what you need to do.”
“Thanks.” She patted her pockets, looked around wildly. “Okay. I need my keys. My phone. My wallet’s got my license and my proof of insurance. Is that all? Is that it?”
This time it was Luck who reached for Arwen, taking her by both hands and squeezing hard. “Arwen, stop, breathe. You can’t do anything if you don’t breathe.”
She stopped. She breathed. This was stupid. She wasn’t going to be of any help to anyone if she didn’t get it together. “Thanks. I’m sorry. I’ll try not to be long. And I wouldn’t go—”
“It’s an emergency.” Luck turned her toward her desk. “I know. Get your stuff and go. Go.”
Arwen’s hands were shaking when she grabbed her phone from the top of her desk, her wallet from the center drawer, the keys to the saloon’s truck from the pegboard inside the kitchen door. She gave Luck a quick hug and another, “Thank you,” then fairly flew out the back, sprinting across the patio and yard and through the gate.
She had the truck started and in gear before she ever thought to close the door, doing so as she whipped backwards out of the lot. She slammed to a stop, gravel crunching and spinning beneath her tires, then shifted into first and shot forward, leaving long strips of rubber on the pavement in her wake.
She sped down Willowbrook Avenue, turned onto Main Street, punched the accelerator and gunned the big truck’s engine, crossing her fingers the lunch hour meant Sheriff Orleans had abandoned his speed trap for one of Lizzy Nathan’s famous soft tacos and wouldn’t get in her way.
When she blew by Lasko’s, she grabbed her phone from the seat and dialed Josh.
“Josh. It’s Arwen Poole.”
“Arwen. How’s it going?”
“Have you heard about Wallace Campbell?”
“Nothing new, no. Why?” he asked, his voice hardening on the question.
“He’s had a heart attack. He’s at Coleman Medical. I’m going to the ranch,” she said, aware of what she’d just revealed, more aware that it didn’t matter, mostly aware she’d been insane to think she could so easily get rid of Dax. “I thought you might want to do the same.”
“On my way,” he said and disconnected, leaving Arwen alone with her worry and a drive that went on forever. Under normal conditions the trip took at least half an hour, and though she was able, at her speed, to cut a chunk out of that time, she didn’t think she’d ever get there.
She saw nothing along the way but the long strip of asphalt, the white dashes of the center line whipping by in a blur, her mind whirring so wildly she nearly missed her turn, her truck taking it in a long drifting fishtail that sent her heart careening.
Halfway up the ranch’s long private road, she met Diego Cruz coming toward her. She slowed, flagged him down. He pulled up beside her and smiled.
“Buenos dias, Señorita Poole.”
“Diego. Can you tell me where to find Dax?”
“Sì. He’s in the west pasture with Señor Mitchell and Señor Jayne.”
The west pasture. That meant nothing to her. “Is there an easy way to get there?”
“The gate you just passed? That will take you there. Just follow the tire tracks and the trail of flat grass.”
Sounded easy enough. “Can I make it out there in my truck?”
“That truck?” Diego nodded. “If you back up down the road, I will open the gate for you.”
“Thank you, Diego,” she said, shifting into reverse and stopping on the far side of the gate to give him room. He hopped down from his truck’s cab, freed the chain, and pushed the gate open. Arwen drove through, waving as she bounced over the cattle guard, hoping she could find her way back.
