by Ilsa Mayr
"Speaking of fixing things, could you some time go with me to my mentor's house? She's on sick leave this semester and I noticed this morning that the latch of her screen door is broken again. I tried to fix it several weeks ago, but obviously I didn't do it right."
"Sure. No problem. What's she like?"
"Dora's a tough and demanding teacher but fair. She's quick to praise and encourage. The kids respect her. They learn a lot in her classes. She's the reason I became a teacher."
"You like her a lot," Quint observed.
"Yes." Aileen put her spoon down. "So, what did you fix around here?"
"Checking up on me?" Quint asked, trying to keep his voice light.
"No, but I like to know what's going on."
"How's that different from checking up on me?"
"Maybe it's not," she admitted. "We're partners, though, and I don't want to be excluded again. Please remember that."
The fact that Jack never consulted her still rankled. Quint could understand that. "We worked in the tack room, moved the remaining hay to the front of the loft, and tinkered with several machines that we'll be using."
"Which ones?"
"The tractor and everything we'll need to plant alfalfa and clover." Seeing her surprised expression, he added quickly, "It's a lot cheaper to grow your own feed."
"I know that. I'm not criticizing your idea."
"Bob told me that years ago part of the south range was cultivated. I looked at it. Having lain fallow for so long, we should harvest a bumper crop of hay."
"You're full of surprises. Do you know how to plant and harvest?"
"We did it on the spread where I was the foreman. Do you have any objections to me doing this?"
"No, of course not. Go for it."
"I will."
"I remember Mom talking about how they all helped to get the hay in before it rained. I wonder why they stopped growing it."
Quint had an idea but didn't voice it. She might misunderstand and attribute anything negative he said about Jack to resentment on his part. But he liked the way Aileen looked at him, sort of surprised but pleased as well.
While they did the dishes, they talked about the vegetables she would plant. It was such a pleasant, harmonious evening that tacitly neither referred to the evening before.
Quint excused himself to look at seed catalogues in the den. He studied them until he heard Aileen's laughter, low and throaty. Lured by it as if it were a siren's tempting song, he walked back to the kitchen.
Quint stopped in the doorway to watch Aileen. She was sitting at the kitchen table, papers spread before her, laughing. Under the overhead light her hair glistened like an alchemist's magic mixture of molten gold and copper. When she became aware of him, she looked up. Her eyes were filled with laughter.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to disturb you."
"You didn't," Quint said, smiling at her. "Care to share what's making you laugh?"
"It's my students. Or rather, their writing." She smothered her laughter before she continued. "We read this Russian short story in which the peasants stage a revolt. So one of my juniors wrote that the pheasants revolted. Can you picture this flock of birds marching on the Winter Palace in St. Petersburg?" Aileen burst into laughter again.
Quint couldn't help but join in, for her laughter was infectious. "Makes you wonder if they had six-shooters or rifles tucked under their wings."
Aileen laughed. When she stopped, she placed her hand on her chest and caught her breath. "Teaching does have some unusual perks."
The telephone rang.
"Since you're closer, will you get the phone?" Aileen asked.
Quint did. After a moment he asked, "May I ask who's calling?" He placed his hand over the speaker. Looking at Aileen, he mouthed, "Steve?"
"I'll take it." Aileen crossed the room and took the phone from Quint.
"Hi, Steve. What can I do for you?"
Quint opened the refrigerator and studied its contents. He heard her say, "It's no one you know." So, Steve was curious about him. Quint couldn't blame him. If he phoned Aileen and a man answered, he sure as heck would want to know all about him. And do something about him. Was Steve the physical type who'd ask him to step outside and settle it man to man? The part of him that was trying to become a respected rancher hoped not. The part of him that contained the remnants of the fiery-tempered boy who'd been ready to right all affronts with his fists hoped so.
Quint tried not to listen to the conversation, but it was impossible not to hear Aileen's side of it.
He took a bottle of root beer from the fridge and twisted the top off. Aileen's face had lost its humor. He was sure her frown was one of annoyance.
"I'm sorry, but I can't go," she said, her tone firm. "I told you that the other day."
Steve apparently wasn't taking no for an answer. What a jerk.
"Okay, you guessed right. I already have a date," Aileen said, her voice exasperated. "Bye." She hung up forcefully.
Quint watched her press the button to activate the an swering machine. She obviously did not want to talk to Steve again. Before he could ask her if anything was wrong, the phone rang again. Ignoring it, she took her seat at the kitchen table. The caller hung up when the recorded message rang through the silent kitchen. Steve, Quint suspected.
"Is something wrong?" Quint asked.
She shrugged.
"Sounds to me like Steve isn't good at taking no for an answer."
"He isn't. I don't know what's gotten into him. In Washington he was insisting on meeting for a drink or sitting beside me on the bus, and now he keeps pestering me for dates. I've run out of excuses."
"Why don't you just tell him you don't want to go out with him," Quint suggested.
"I thought I did. He's either exceptionally dense or-"
"Or he can't believe that you could turn him down. Seems to me the guy has an enormous ego."
"Don't most men?"
"Not me," Quint said, laying his hand on his heart in mock seriousness.
"Yeah, right," Aileen said, trying to sound stern. She placed the papers in a stack. Then she sighed. "Now I have a problem."
"What is it? Maybe I can help."
"I lied when I told Steve I already had a date."
"The guy practically forced you to lie to get rid of him." Quint frowned. "I don't understand. How will he know you lied?"
"When I show up by myself at the National Honor Society dinner. Why couldn't I think of a better excuse?" Aileen said, her voice a discouraged wail. "Now what am I going to do? Claim my date got sick? He'll never buy that."
"Why don't you just get a date?"
Aileen looked at Quint as if he'd lost his mind. "Get a date? Just like that? By a week from Friday? I told you, I haven't dated since Dad got sick. I don't even know who's available anymore. And it isn't as if this county were overrun with eligible men in the first place."
Quint studied her silently until she asked, "What?"
"You could ask me. I'm available and eligible."
"You?" she asked incredulously.
He raised an eyebrow. "What? A simple cowboy not good enough? Afraid I'll embarrass you? Darlin', I'll have you know, I clean up pretty good."
Aileen's face flushed. She kept forgetting how sensitive he was. "I only meant that you'd be bored stiff. A man like you?"
"What does that mean, a man like me?"
"Well, I'm sure you're used to more exciting dates than the local high school's National Honor Society dinner."
"Depends. What's on the menu?" Quint asked.
"Are you serious?"
"Try me. What's to eat?" he repeated.
"The menu's the same every year. Roast beef. Fried chicken. Mashed potatoes. Green beans. Rolls. Pies. Milk, iced tea, or coffee."
"Cherry pie?"
"Usually, along with apple and a couple of different cream pies."
"Sounds good to me."
Aileen stared at him, wide-eyed. "You're serious?"<
br />
"I am. Why not?"
"You'll have to wear a tie," she warned.
"I can handle that."
"And there will be speeches and a short ceremony," she added.
"I'll drink plenty of coffee to keep me awake."
"If you're sure-"
"Aileen, I said I was. I'll escort you to the dinner."
"Thank you," she said gravely, suddenly feeling a little shy.
"You're welcome. Good night."
Aileen was so flustered that she didn't say good night until Quint was already in the hall. Then she sat back, considering what she had just done.
She had just accepted a date with Quint, the man with whom she wasn't going to get involved. Except it wasn't a real date. Quint was just her escort for the evening.
The phone rang again. Aileen tensed until she heard her friend's voice.
"Aileen, pick up. I've got to talk to you. Are you there?"
"I'm here, Jennifer. What's up?"
"I'm calling you from the pay phone in the library. Guess who I've just run into?"
"I have no idea. Brad Pitt?"
"I wish. No, Steve Sanders. He followed me into the children's room and demanded to know who you're going out with. What's up with him?"
"I wish I knew. He seems to think that because I went to Washington as a chaperone, I should go out with him."
"There was a time you thought he had possibilities," Jennifer pointed out. "Of course, that was before Gorgeous Green Eyes arrived on the scene."
Aileen opened her mouth to deny this but then snapped it shut.
"No comeback? I take that as a yes to my question. So, who's your date for the dinner? As if I needed to ask."
"It's not a date," Aileen said.
"Oh? How's it not a date?"
"Well, on a date, the man picks up the woman-"
"Quint isn't picking you up simply because he lives in the same house."
Ignoring Jennifer's statement, Aileen said, "And the couple goes to dinner-"
"Aren't you going to dinner?"
"You know what I mean. This is hardly an intimate, romantic dinner with most of the faculty there and a bunch of students and their parents. And I'm sure you remember the cafeteria? Not even a blind person could claim it was a romantic setting."
"Well, no," Jennifer agreed, "but you're going as a couple and that's what counts."
"We're not a couple. Quint is just my escort."
"Oh, but what an escort. You'll be the envy of every woman there."
Aileen groaned. "Maybe I should come down with some highly contagious disease and stay home."
"You can't do that! My baby sister is being inducted, remember?"
Aileen sighed. "You're right, but I have a bad feeling about this."
"Why? You're taking a date. Most single teachers do and the married ones bring their spouses. It would be odd if you didn't."
"I guess you're right."
"I know I'm right. What are you going to wear?"
"Wear? I hadn't given that any thought yet. Maybe my blue pantsuit."
"No, no. You've got to wear a dress. Show off your legs and flash a hint of cleavage. You know my motto: You got it, flaunt it a little."
"This is a school function, for heaven's sake."
Jennifer sighed. "I know." Then she cheered up. "Hey, you know what? Why don't you and Quint go with us to The Black Hat on Saturday? Do a little dancing. I bet Quint knows how to dance. If not, I'm sure he's a fast learner."
"He's a good dancer."
"Oh? And how do you know that?"
Aileen wished she could retract her rash disclosure.
"Spill it, girl. How do you know that?"
"He waltzed me around the kitchen the other night."
"Oh, really? What else happened?" Jennifer asked, breathless with curiosity.
"Nothing else happened. Listen, I've got to hang up. Haven't finished grading. Bye."
Aileen sat back down, but had a hard time concentrating on the compositions. It didn't help that the phone rang twice more, but when the answering machine message clicked on, the caller hung up. When it rang a third time, she walked toward the phone but couldn't bring herself to pick it up.
Quint came back into the kitchen. Seeing Aileen standing by the phone with a frown, he reached around her and turned the volume dial to its lowest setting.
Aileen smelled soap and a warm, damp male body. He must have just showered. She didn't dare turn around to look at Quint.
"Do you always have such a hard time turning down persistent men?" he asked.
She shrugged. "Steve is a colleague and that makes everything more difficult."
"I don't see why. He's not asking you to help him in a school matter. He's asking you for a date. You turned him down. That's the end of it."
"Would it be for you? I mean, if a woman said no to a date, would you leave it at that?"
"Sure. I'd be disappointed, but I wouldn't bother her again."
"No means no?"
"Absolutely," Quint assured her.
Despite her best intentions not to, Aileen turned around to look at him. Big mistake. He was wearing jeans. He'd left his shirt unbuttoned. Quint had dried himself hurriedly. Water dripped from the ends of his black hair to his shoulders. Unthinking, she reached out to touch a rivulet. Quint caught her hand.
"How does it feel to be that desirable to a man?" he asked.
"To Steve? I suspect it's probably mostly his ego that makes him persistent, not my appeal."
"Don't be too sure of that," Quint murmured. "For a prim schoolmarm, you pack quite a wallop in the appeals department."
"And if I weren't a schoolmarm, I'd be-"
"Still sexy. In a ladylike way."
"Isn't that an oxymoron?" When she saw his raised eyebrow, she said, "Sorry. That's the English teacher speaking. An oxymoron is a sort of contradiction."
"Meaning that a woman is either sexy or a lady but never both?"
Aileen nodded. "There's a long tradition in literature that depicts women as either a madonna or a whore."
"That's narrow-minded thinking," Quint said, "and wrong. Just about every woman is a combination of both. It depends on the situation which part dominates."
Quint had entwined their fingers. He turned their hands so that hers rested against his chest. He moved it slowly across his warm skin. His chest hair caressed her like raw silk. Aileen felt her heartbeat thunder in her ears. A warning, or the bewitching beat of a jungle drum? Both, prob ably. After a moment's hesitation, she tugged to free her hand. Quint let it go.
"The madonna's voice was apparently louder," he murmured.
"Ours is a working relationship, so it's best," she claimed.
"You're probably right," Quint replied, his tone reluctant, grudging. He left the kitchen before he could be tempted into disagreeing with Aileen.
The sun was close to disappearing behind the horizon when Aileen straightened up and leaned on her rake. A moment later she pressed her hand against her back.
"Sore?" Quint asked, joining her.
"Yes. I guess our aerobic sessions don't hit all the muscles I use in getting the garden ready for planting."
"Sure looks good," Quint said, looking at the neat, rectangular beds Aileen had laid out. "You put in a lot of work. Did you have to do it all this weekend?"
She nodded. "Next weekend it might rain and then it would be a little late to plant the early vegetables."
"Which are?"
"Spinach, sweet peas, and some lettuces, and greens. They like the cool growing season."
"Like clover and alfalfa," Quint said.
"Exactly. That's why you worked every day this week until it was too dark to see."
"It's been a hard week, but good. Got the planting done."
Aileen heard the satisfaction and the pride in his voice. Who would have thought that Quint would turn into such a hard worker? Not she, certainly. At least not that first afternoon when he'd come to the ranch. Her father
had done the right thing in giving half of the ranch to Quint. Not only had it been morally the right thing to do, but right from a purely practical point of view as well. She would never have found a foreman who was even remotely as dedicated to the ranch as Quint was.
If only she didn't find him so disturbingly appealing. So far one of them had always remembered that getting involved was a bad idea. They needed cool heads and friendly cooperation to keep the ranch going. What if they both forgot that at the same time? Heaven help them. Resolved to keep a strong rein on her emotions, she turned toward the house.
"I better go in and check on dinner. I put the meat into the crock pot after lunch and the vegetables into the oven an hour ago."
"Sounds good to me. I'll put the tools away for you," he offered.
When Quint joined Aileen in the kitchen, she was poking the meat with a fork. He walked up behind her to look over her shoulder. "Looks and smells good."
"It's just about ready. Are you hungry?"
"Always." And not just for food. Standing this close, his entire body hummed with awareness of her. As if she sensed something, she moved away. "What can I do to help?"
"Take the meat out and put it on this platter." Aileen handed him the dish and then turned her attention to putting the vegetables on the table.
They concentrated on their food, the way people do who work hard physically and need to replenish their strength.
When the dishes were done, Aileen lifted and lowered her shoulders with a grimace.
"Just how sore are you?" Quint asked. Without waiting for an answer, he placed his hands on her shoulders and began to massage them.
Aileen gripped the edge of the counter. She couldn't repress a groan of pain.
"I know it hurts at first, but soon the pain will lessen considerably. I know. Whenever I could afford it, I'd get a massage after rodeoing."
"Really?"
"Uh-huh."
"By a man or a woman?"
"Whichever was available. These were professionals. Not the people who work in the sleazy massage parlors you're thinking about."
"How do you know I was thinking of massage parlors?"
"From the tone of your voice. It went all teachery."
