by Ann Roth
His foreman, who’d been married umpteen years, nodded approvingly. “Now and then a man’s got to cut loose and have some fun.”
Ollie, who knew his way around branding and, according to him, around women, too, grinned. “Me and my girlfriend, Tiff? We sure put the f-u-n in our Friday night.” He made a lewd gesture with his hands. “But we’re doin’ that almost every night.”
Fun didn’t come close to describing Sly’s night with Lana, but he wasn’t about to talk about that. “Let’s get this job done so Ace can take the rest of the weekend off,” he said. When time and weather allowed, Sly and his foreman alternated weekends off. This was Ace’s weekend, and he and his wife had planned a trip to Billings to visit their college-age son at Montana State.
“Ready with that iron?” Sly asked Ollie.
“Ready, boss.”
The four of them spent the next few hours herding the calves one by one to the calf table so that the cows could be marked with the Pettit Ranch brand and then vaccinated. It wasn’t exactly rocket science, allowing Sly’s mind to replay the previous evening.
Over dinner, Dave had reluctantly agreed to prepare and file the lawsuit, but he was tying up loose ends for several other clients and needed ten days to put the suit together and file the papers. Shortly after the lawyer had finished his coffee and dessert, he’d left to get home to his wife and kids.
Sly didn’t have a wife or kids, or anyone to hurry home to. His life was uncomplicated, which was exactly how he liked it. He spent his days working hard to keep his ranch profitable and successful, and enjoyed spending his evenings either going out or relaxing alone in his quiet house. But the whole lawsuit business was unsettling, and last night he’d wanted to take his mind off his troubles. So he’d hung around the Bitter & Sweet, waiting for the band to play.
As soon as the cute blonde and her friend had sat down at a table across the way, Sly had forgotten all about his problems. He’d always enjoyed an attractive woman, and when the blonde had looked at him and smiled, something had sizzled between them. He had to meet her.
From the start, they’d hit it off. Lana was fun and easy to talk to, and her eyes had telegraphed that she was attracted to him. Best of all, she’d only wanted a good time. They’d agreed not to share their last names and had steered away from deep conversation.
A dozen dances and several drinks later, Sly had kissed her. Her warmth and enthusiasm had just about blown his socks off. Neither of them had wanted to stop, and before Sly knew it, he was walking her to the Prosperity Inn and paying for a hotel room.
Under regular circumstances he wouldn’t have acted so rashly. He rarely picked up a woman he’d never met before and taken her to bed. But his decision had turned out to be a damn fine one.
The sex had been phenomenal.
His only regret was that he hadn’t gotten her number. He’d thought about waking her and asking her for it before he left at the crack of dawn. But neither of them had gotten much rest, and she’d been sleeping so peacefully that he hadn’t had the heart to disturb her.
Just then, Sly’s daydream was interrupted when on the way to the calf table, one of the calves turned renegade and tried to run off. “Come back here, you,” Sly called as he and Ace cut her off.
When they caught her and steered her back, Ace took up the conversation where they’d left off. “The gal you danced with—you gonna see her again?”
“Probably not.”
The more important reason Sly hadn’t asked for her number was that getting involved with her would be a bad idea. His last girlfriend had accused him of avoiding intimacy, and then dumped him. Not because she’d taken up with some other guy, but because she was fed up with his so-called emotional distance.
She wasn’t the first woman to accuse him of that, but Sly had always been confused as to what “emotional distance” meant. In bed, he demonstrated plenty of emotion.
Maybe it had something do with the fact that he rarely brought the women he dated to his place. All his former girlfriends had complained about that, but hell, his home was his sanctuary and his bedroom was his private space, off-limits to all but his housekeeper, who cleaned it.
After his last breakup and a few months of self-imposed celibacy, Sly had finally figured out what women meant by emotional distance. He admitted to himself that outside the physical stuff, he’d never had a truly intimate relationship with a woman. Sure, he enjoyed giving and receiving pleasure, but he wasn’t about to put his heart on the line. With good reason.
People he cared deeply about tended not to stick around. First his parents, then his brother, then the girl he’d wanted to marry.
Why take the risk of getting too close? Sly wasn’t about to set himself up for that kind of heartache again.
“Now that you sweated that hangover out of your system, you’re lookin’ a sight better,” Ace commented some hours later, when they’d finished the branding.
“I suppose I’ll live,” Sly replied. “Go on now and have a nice weekend—all three of you.”
He headed for the house. Mrs. Rutland, his part-time housekeeper—with just him to feed and clean up after, he didn’t need her full-time—left at noon on Thursdays and Fridays, but cooked enough meals to last until Monday. After showering and changing, Sly filled his belly and then headed outside again to tackle the late-afternoon chores. He fed and watered the horses, giving Bee, his bay, her usual carrot. He checked on the stock and noted additional chores that needed doing the following day.
Then he flopped on the sofa with the remote. Nothing on the tube interested him, and his mind kept wandering to last night. As worn-out as he was, he felt oddly restless—too restless to hang around at home. He considered grabbing a beer someplace, but after last night he needed a rest from alcohol.
He called his sister to ask if she wanted to catch a movie. Dani didn’t answer, which wasn’t surprising on a Saturday night. She was probably out with her boyfriend of the month or her friends.
Sly hung up without leaving a message. He almost wished he had Lana’s number...until he reminded himself that it was better he didn’t.
Moments later he grabbed his keys from the hook by the door and left through the mudroom. He wasn’t sure where he was headed, but anyplace was better than sitting around here, thinking about a woman he didn’t plan on ever seeing again.
* * *
IT WAS LATE Sunday when Lana parked in front of the house where she’d grown up. It was a beautiful afternoon; the sun was slowly sinking toward the horizon, casting the distant, snow-covered Cascade Mountains in rosy hues. Spring was her favorite time of year, when the air smelled fresh and sweet, and life seemed to bud and surge everywhere.
Usually she looked forward to the noisy Sunday night dinners with her parents and her younger sister and family. But tonight, Lana was dreading it.
All because last Sunday, she’d finally told her parents about her decision to adopt a baby. She’d waited until two months after the social worker had cleared her as a prospective parent, and six weeks after she’d begun to actively search for a pregnant woman wanting to give up her baby for adoption. The social worker had given her the web address of a county-wide site called AdoptionOption.com, which put prospective parents in touch with pregnant teens who wanted to give up their babies. Although Lana visited the site daily, she had yet to make a contact that might work out. Discouraging, but she understood that the process would take time. Eventually she’d find someone.
Not wanting to keep such a big decision to herself, she’d told her sister first. That had been easy. Telling her parents, who tended to be old-fashioned, not so much. Lana had known they wouldn’t approve. Not of adoption itself, but of her decision to adopt as a single woman.
Apprehension had ruined her appetite and she’d barely managed to eat her mother’s delicious meal. She’d waited to sp
ring her news until after dessert, when her niece and nephew had scampered off to play. She’d quickly delivered the news to her parents, then left while they were still digesting the news.
The fallout had come later, in a series of increasingly upset phone calls, one from her dad and too many to count from her mother. All of them about finding a husband and then adopting. With their old-fashioned values about raising kids—values Lana had supported until Brent had divorced her—they didn’t understand.
“I would love to have a husband to help me raise a child, but I’m not even dating right now,” she’d explained. “Besides, I’m thirty-two years old, and I know in my heart that this is the right time for me to adopt.”
No amount of reasoning had changed their minds. So Lana was cringing at the prospect of another of her mother’s lectures tonight. She was banking on her parents having to behave in front of their grandkids.
Which was why, knowing Liz et al usually arrived about five, Lana was pulling up to the house a little later.
Crossing her fingers for a pleasant evening free of judgment and criticism, she crossed the brick stoop, wiped her feet on the welcome mat and walked into the house. She hung her jacket on a hook by the door.
The living room was empty, but through the window that faced the backyard she noted her brother-in-law, Eric, and her father lighting what looked to be a new barbecue grill. Connor, age six, and Emma, who had just turned four, were racing around the same pint-size log cabin Lana and Liz had once played in. There was no sign of Lana’s sister or their mother. They were probably working on dinner.
Lana was about to slip back out the door and head around the house to play with the kids when her sister called out. “Is that you, Lana? Mom and I are in the kitchen.”
No chance of sneaking away now. “I’ll be right there,” Lana replied.
Shoulders squared, she headed down the hall. Liz understood Lana’s aching desire to have a child, and supported her decision. Why couldn’t her parents be as accepting?
She forced herself to be cheerful, declaring, “Something smells really good,” as she entered the big, homey kitchen.
Her mother was sautéing mushrooms and didn’t look up. “I’m just finishing the rice dish. Why don’t you toss the salad, Lana?”
Not even a hello? Lana exchanged a glance with Liz, who shrugged. “Um, hi, Mom, it’s nice to see you, too?”
“Hello,” she said in a cool tone.
Liz scanned Lana up and down. “You look fantastic. Doesn’t she, Mom?”
At last her mother turned her attention to Lana. Bracing for whatever she might say, Lana sucked in a breath.
“You are wearing a certain glow.” Her mother gave her a curious stare, as in, “Where did that come from?”
This was good, much better than another criticism about choosing single motherhood. Maybe her mother had decided to lay off the awful lectures tonight. Lana crossed her fingers. And thought about the “certain glow” that apparently was still with her.
It had been almost forty-eight hours since her night with Sly. By now any afterglow should have faded. Yet inside, Lana was still purring like a satisfied cat. Turning away from her mother’s and sister’s curious expressions, she washed her hands. “I caught up on my sleep last night—that must be the reason,” she said over the hiss of the water. “Did Dad get a new grill?”
“Yesterday, and this one has more bells and whistles than the old model—it does everything but shine shoes,” her mother answered. “He’s as excited as a boy on Christmas morning. He couldn’t wait to show it to Eric.”
“Men and their toys.” Liz shook her head, her ultrashort bangs and chin-length hair making her appear twenty instead of thirty. “If I know Eric, he’ll want one exactly like it, just to keep up.”
“With Eric’s construction business doing so well, you can certainly afford a new grill,” their mother pointed out.
The kitchen door opened and Connor and Emma rushed inside. “Aunt Lana! Aunt Lana!”
They raced straight for Lana. Her heart swelling with love, she leaned down and hugged them both. She envied Liz, with her loving husband and two adorable children. “It’s been a whole week since I saw you. What’s new?”
“Daddy’s gonna sign me up for T-ball in June,” Connor said proudly. “When is that, Aunt Lana?”
“Let’s see. Today is April 6,” Lana said. “After April comes...?”
Connor screwed up his face. “Summer?”
Lana laughed. “Summer isn’t for a little while yet, buddy. After April comes May, then June.”
Emma gave an enthusiastic nod. “When I’m five, I get to play T-ball, too.”
“That’ll be next summer—how exciting.” Lana made a mental note to get the dates of the games so she could cheer Connor on.
“How are Daddy and Grandpa doing with the hamburgers?” Liz asked.
“Good,” Emma replied. “We’re ’posed to tell you that they’re almost ready.”
“Then you’d both better hang up your jackets and wash your hands.” Liz pointed to the powder room.
The men brought in the hamburgers, greeted Lana and helped set the food on the dining room table. Dinner was the usual chaotic but fun affair, with Connor and Emma causing lots of laughter.
Lana finally relaxed. She was almost home free. With any luck she would skate through the rest of the evening with a smile on her face and then head home filled with the warmth borne out of family harmony. Or so she thought.
Chapter Two
At the end of the Sunday meal, Emma and Connor scampered into the fenced backyard to play. The adults lingered at the table, sipping coffee and chatting.
“I keep forgetting to mention, I ran into Cousin Tim at the grocery yesterday,” Lana’s mother said.
Lana’s cousin from her father’s side was nine years her senior, but he seemed much older. Always a brusque man, he’d grown even more difficult after his wife had divorced him less than a year after their wedding. Having grown up in a bustling city, his ex had decided that the ranching life wasn’t for her. Or maybe the problem lay with Cousin Tim himself. Lana wasn’t sure. Her cousin rarely smiled or laughed, which made being around him a chore. After eleven years, it was long past time for him to get over his ex and move on.
“We haven’t heard from him since last Christmas,” her father said. “How is he?”
“Not so good.” Her mother looked solemn. “He told me that a few months ago, some of the cows at Pettit Ranch died suddenly. It turned out they were poisoned. Sly Pettit has accused Tim.”
Two men named Sly in the same town.... What were the odds? Lana had gone to high school with yet another. Apparently the name was popular among the sixty-thousand-odd residents here in Prosperity. She imagined Cousin Tim’s neighbor, who she’d never met, to be as beefy and bowlegged as her cousin.
“That’s terrible—unless Cousin Tim actually did it,” Liz quipped. Both parents stared at her, appalled. “Well, he isn’t the nicest person.”
Their father frowned. “I don’t care, he’s family, and—”
“Family sticks together through thick and thin,” Lana, Liz and Eric replied in unison.
They meant it, too—especially when times were tough. When Brent left Lana, they’d wrapped her in so much love and warmth, they’d nearly smothered her. But now that she wanted to adopt a baby by herself... Her parents’ disapproval ruled out their support.
Liz made a face. “Just because the man is family doesn’t mean we have to like him. He’s never exactly been fond of us, either.”
“Ranching is a tough business,” her father said. “Tim inherited the Lazy C from your great-uncle Horace, and it never has been a moneymaker. That kind of stress would make anyone grouchy.”
“Living all alone on that big ranch...” Lana’s mother shook
her head. “I wouldn’t like that at all.”
“He has a crew and foreman to keep him company,” Liz pointed out.
Under her breath she muttered, “They probably can’t stand him, either.” Then, in her normal voice, she said, “He could sell the ranch and find a job in the city, where he’d collect a regular paycheck,” Lana suggested.
“With acreage prices at record lows, this isn’t the smartest time to sell,” Lana’s dad said. “Besides, Cousin Tim is a rancher through and through. As bitter and rough around the edges as he is, at heart he’s a decent man. He wouldn’t poison anyone’s cows.”
Lana frowned. “Then why would Mr. Pettit accuse him of such a thing?”
“God only knows, but I’m sure Tim is eager tell me all about it. I suppose I’d better call him, since he hasn’t called me.” Her father’s heavy breath indicated it would be a chore.
“Changing the subject...” Lana said. “Remember the reporter from the Prosperity Daily News who took pictures of the day care and interviewed me back in early March? He’s going to highlight the story as the Small Business Profile of the Month. It’ll run in the paper a week from Tuesday.”
Her father beamed. “That’s terrific, honey. My daughter, the businesswoman. Just like your old man.”
Prosperity wasn’t just a ranching town. Thanks to heavily wooded areas, the Ames and Missouri Rivers, Prosperity Falls and the Cascade Mountains beyond, during spring and summer the town attracted thousands of outdoor enthusiasts. Lana’s father had cashed in on those tourists with a popular recreational-equipment business that rented and sold camping, hiking and fishing gear.
“Eric’s good at business, too,” Liz said.
Lana’s father smiled at his son-in-law. “That goes without saying. Eric, you know I’m damn proud of you, son.”
Eric grinned. “I do, sir.”
“You’re the best, Eric,” Lana said. “I never could have opened Tender Loving Daycare without your help. I had no idea how to remodel an old dance studio into a day care.”
