by Diana Palmer
“Where’s Luke?” Keith called.
“Right here,” Luke said in a voice that caused Maris’s back to stiffen. Without even addressing her, he had let her know that he didn’t agree with her attitude against kisses and affairs.
Luke walked past both her and Keith. “I’m going to bed. Good night.”
Keith looked at Maris with a perplexed expression. “What’s wrong with Luke?”
Maris took a breath and lied through her teeth. “I couldn’t begin to guess. Call it a mood.” She formed a smile for Keith. “I think I’ll go to bed, too. Good night, Keith.”
“Well, heck,” Keith mumbled. “It’s still light out and everyone’s going to bed.”
“If you turn on the TV, please keep the volume down. ’Night, Keith.” Maris went back into the house and directly to her bedroom.
She wasn’t over the shakes yet, but she was beginning to wonder if anything would ever be normal again until after Luke Rivers left the No Bull.
Five
Luke waded through the weeds behind the barn, going from vehicle to vehicle to look them over, then inspected numerous electric and gasoline motors all but concealed by huge clumps of dandelions and overgrown wild grasses. He paused at the riding lawn mower and finally stopped his wandering near the row of old refrigerators, shaking his head in amazement, wondering why a man would collect and save so much junk. Maris had been right to ask if he’d known Ray at all; obviously he hadn’t.
All morning while working with the horses, the junk strewn behind the barn had kept popping into his mind. What was junk to one person was pure gold to another. Take that Corvette, for example. Rusting away behind the barn it was worthless. But to Jim Humphrey the car was a collector’s find. And if Jim found the car to his liking and bought it, it would no longer be worthless to Maris but cash in her pocket.
What if some of these other things could also be turned into cash? That was the question hounding Luke this morning, although the cold shoulder Maris had given him at breakfast was hardly an incentive to approaching her with any new ideas. He shouldn’t have kissed her. Now she acted as though he was just lying in wait for another opportunity to grab her, which simply wasn’t true. He understood the word no as well as Maris did and would abide by her wishes, even though he knew damned well that she had kissed him back and enjoyed it every bit as much as he had.
But…that was behind him. Behind them. Maris would soon realize it wasn’t going to be repeated, and then she would relax around him again. In the meantime, he would act as though nothing had occurred in her kitchen last night, and he would begin by going up to the house right now and talking to her about the veritable gold mine in back of the barn. Starting on his way, Luke had to chuckle. “Gold mine” was a terrible exaggeration, when the truth was that she might pick up a few bucks by selling some of that junk. But his impression of her financial straits was that even a few bucks would be welcome.
Maris had told Keith to finish repairing the section of fence he’d been working on for several days now, so Luke hadn’t seen the boy since breakfast. He hadn’t seen Maris, either, but then, he’d been so engrossed in whatever horse he’d been working with in the corral, he hadn’t been watching for her. She hadn’t, however, come near the corral.
He strode across the compound from barn to house and rapped on the screen door, as the inner door was wide open. “Maris?”
Maris was in the kitchen, making sandwiches for lunch. She’d been out helping Keith with the fence repairs, and had returned to the house only a few minutes ago. Wiping her hands on a section of paper towel, she went to the screen door. “Lunch will be ready in a few minutes.”
“Great, but that’s not why I’m here. I need to talk to you about something.”
“Oh. Well, come on in.” Maris backed away from the door and returned to the counter, with its array of bread, cold meat and condiments. She had vowed to remain aloof of Luke’s personal charms, but she had to allow communication on anything concerning the horses. “What is it?”
Luke was standing near the refrigerator, as that location provided a side view of what she was doing. “I just took another look at the stuff behind the barn and I think some of it could be sold.”
Maris sliced a sandwich in half. “Other than the Corvette, that stuff is pure junk. Why would anyone want it?”
“Some of it could be fixed up, Maris. Cleaned up, at least. That riding mower is missing its battery and its tires are flat, but maybe those are the only things wrong with it. If we could get it in shape and slap a coat of paint on it…”
Maris turned. “Do you have the time to do it?” It wasn’t said kindly. If they were still counting on that September 30 deadline, which she was wholeheartedly doing, then every minute of Luke’s time was already scheduled.
Luke’s face hardened. “I’ll find the time. Keith could help and so could you.”
“Me!” Maris emitted a sardonic laugh. “I’m hardly a mechanic. Besides, with tending the herd and keeping this place from falling apart, I’ve got enough to do.”
“Well, you can damned well find the time to wield a paintbrush and use a little soap and water!”
“Don’t you dare get angry with me because I didn’t jump for joy at your suggestion!” Maris drew a calming breath. She didn’t want to argue with Luke; they were skating on thin ice as it was. “I’m sorry. Let’s not fight about something so silly. I appreciate your calling your friend about the Corvette but—”
Luke folded his arms and interrupted. “Maybe you’re not as broke as you let on. Appears to me that a person who’s as short of money as you’ve led me to believe would jump at the chance to make a few bucks.”
Maris’s eyes widened. “I have not misled you, and I’m not a liar. But trying to sell that junk would be a waste of time.”
“Come out there with me.”
“Why?”
“Maris, don’t be so damned obstinate. I’m trying to help you out here.”
Her mind was cluttered with problems, and Luke was one of them. Why, even now when he was angering her by pushing her into doing something she thought utterly senseless, was she so aware of his good looks? And remembering how she’d felt in his arms?
With her jaw clenched, she draped a clean towel over the food on the counter. “Fine,” she snapped. “I’ll go with you.”
They made the trek in silence, but Maris’s temper had cooled considerably by the time they had rounded the barn and reached the junkyard. Luke began talking. “There are—I counted them—fifteen motors of various sizes and types lying in these weeds. There are tools, electric saws, a lathe, woodworking equipment and on and on. You can see the old cars, trucks and tractors for yourself, and I have no intention of trying to put any of them in running order. Other than the riding lawn mower, which I think needs only minor repairs.”
“There is also a room filled with junk,” Maris said wearily, far from convinced that anything out here—other than the Corvette—was worth two cents.
“A room? Where?”
“Through that door.”
It was just another door to get into the barn, Luke had figured. “Is it locked?”
“Is anything on the ranch locked?”
Shooting her an irate look—she sure wasn’t being very cooperative—Luke made his way through the weeds to the door and pulled it open. He stepped in and then stared in utter amazement. Picture frames, paintings, old clocks, tables, chairs, bedsteads, boxes and boxes of hand tools, stacks of galvanized pails, golf clubs, skis, tennis rackets—he had never seen so much stuff crammed into one small room before. Everything was coated with a thick layer of dust, but it had been protected from the weather and he could see that the wood tables and chairs, for instance, weren’t warped and misshapen.
“Maris,” he said slowly. “You could hold a yard sale to end all yard sales.”
Ray’s obsession with junk had annoyed and irked Maris so intensely for so long that she found it difficult now to alter her attit
ude. “Who would want it?” she scoffed, looking directly at an ugly lamp without a shade. “Would you want that thing in your house?”
Luke followed the direction of her gaze and had to laugh. “No, I wouldn’t want that thing in my house. But someone else might fall in love with it.”
“Yeah, right,” she drawled. But one of the old clocks had drawn her attention. It was a grimy, dull-black color, but it had an ivory face and had the configuration of an ancient Greek building. Winding her way through the litter, she reached the clock and touched it. Then she tried to pick it up, and found that she could hardly budge it. “This thing weighs a ton!” she exclaimed.
Luke came over to peer at it. “Looks like it’s made out of marble.”
Maris turned to survey the hundreds of objects crowded into the room. “Do you really think people would buy some of this junk? Wait! I know the person to ask, Winona Cobb. You had to pass her place on your way here, the Stop ‘n’ Swap? You must have seen it. Her front yard is littered with old sinks and hubcaps, and there are animals running everywhere. Winona is as eccentric as they come, but if anyone’s an expert on junk around here, it’s her.”
“I don’t think you need advice from anyone about holding a yard sale, Maris. Haven’t you ever stopped at a garage or yard sale and seen the kind of stuff people are selling?” Luke gestured at the clutter. “You’ve got great junk, Maris.”
The remark tickled Maris’s funny bone. “Great junk?” she choked out as she started laughing.
Luke smiled broadly, enjoying the sight and sound of Maris laughing. When she had calmed down, he said, “Let’s do it, Maris. Let’s throw a yard sale that’ll set Whitehorn back on its heels. You’ll make a small fortune, I guarantee it.”
Maris was beginning to warm to the idea. “It would take a lot of work. Everything in here needs a good cleaning.”
“Keith and I could haul it outside and you could use the hose on most of it.”
“We’d have to set it up in the front yard.” Maris laughed wryly. “The No Bull would look like Winona’s place.”
“Only for a few days. Anything that doesn’t sell we can haul to the dump.”
It was really beginning to sink in. What didn’t sell would be hauled to the dump. She would be rid of it, once and for all.
“The big pieces out back couldn’t be moved to the front yard, though,” Luke told her. “But Keith and I could chop down the weeds and clean up the area so people could check out the items for sale.”
This time Maris was the one who folded her arms. “And who’s going to be working with the horses while you’re chopping weeds and hauling around furniture?”
“The horses come first,” Luke said firmly. “Damn, Maris, I can do more than one thing at a time. Can’t you? Can’t anyone who really sets his mind to it?”
Maris’s wheels were turning. A good two-thirds of the things in this room were light enough for her to carry outside for cleaning all by herself. Keith could chop down the weeds out back, and then she could put him to work helping her with the yard sale. Luke wouldn’t have to do all that much on it and the horses wouldn’t be neglected, which, of course, was a much more important undertaking than getting rid of this junk.
But the thought of the ranch being junk-free, finally, was elating. Someday she wanted white painted fencing around the close-in pastures instead of barbed wire, and someday she wanted every single building painted the same color. She’d been thinking—for a long time—of a soft blue-gray color with white trim.
“Someday” was still a long way off, but getting rid of this junk was an extremely satisfying first step to attaining her dream.
A smile lit her face. “You’re absolutely right. I’ll do it!”
“We’ll do it.”
Maris started out of the musty room. “Keith and I will do most of it. I want you to…”
Luke grabbed her arm, halting her flight. “Are you telling me to stay out of it?”
Surprised, she lifted her eyes to his. “It was your idea and I appreciate it, but you said yourself that the horses come first.”
“And they will. But I can also help clean up this stuff.”
Why was he so insistent on doing more than he’d bargained for? He was still holding her arm, they were still looking into each other’s eyes, and it suddenly occurred to Maris to wonder if he wasn’t doubling his work load because of her.
She flushed. What had happened in her kitchen last night was in Luke’s eyes, and Lord help her, she wanted to move closer to him, to walk into his arms and have him hold her, and kiss her, and touch her.
Luke knew exactly what she was thinking. “There’s something happening with us, Maris. We can pretend it isn’t, we can act as though we’re nothing more than boss and employee, but we both know that’s not true.”
She dampened her suddenly dry lips. “I…told you how I feel about an…” She avoided the word affair. “Don’t push me into something that can only hurt me after you’re gone. This has never happened to me before. I knew only one man, I’ve slept with only one man, and he was my husband. Do you think I could sleep with you and then forget it after you drive away?”
Her words, so candid, so frank, startled Luke. “Ray was the only man? Ever?”
Oh, dear God. How could she have said such a thing to him? Profoundly embarrassed, Maris glanced away.
Luke looked at her turned face with its high color for a moment, then released her arm. “I told myself I wasn’t going to try anything else with you. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” It was a monumental effort to speak so calmly, when what he wanted to do was dust down one of those old tables and lay her on it. He could almost see himself peeling down her jeans and opening his own, almost feel himself inside of her, loving her, kissing her sensual mouth and beautiful throat. The intensity of his desire for Maris was overwhelming and impossible to comprehend.
They walked out of the room not looking at each other, both shaken, both trying very hard to appear nonchalant and undisturbed.
“Well,” Maris said with false brightness, “I’d better get back to the house and finish up lunch. It’ll be ready in about ten minutes. Keith is probably on his way in.”
“Go ahead. I’ll be up in a few minutes.” As Maris disappeared around the corner of the barn, he mumbled, “Run away, little girl, and keep on running, ’cause the big bad wolf is right on your heels.” Then his own words disgusted him, and he parked his hips against one of the old tractor wheels to berate himself.
But he was so hard he ached, and no amount of self-reproach was going to cool him off. Damn! Cursing under his breath, he hurried around to the front of the barn, went inside, took the stairs to the loft two at a time, threw off his clothes, gave his stubborn, erect member a poisonous look, turned the shower on to Cold and stepped under the icy spray.
Maris was becoming enthused about the yard sale idea. It would take at least two weeks to get everything ready, she figured. Along with cleaning each item, there were signs to make and distribute. Advertising the event in the newspaper was crucial to the success of the venture, but the ad shouldn’t come out until the week just prior to the weekend of the sale. First things first, Maris thought determinedly, and the first chores, of course, were the sorting and cleaning.
That very afternoon she began by carrying out the stack of galvanized pails—three and four at a time—washed the dust out of them with the garden hose and turned them upside down to dry. During lunch she had told Keith of her plans, and he had immediately and eagerly offered to get involved. “Go back and finish the fence repairs,” she had told him. “That job is nearly done and we have to keep our priorities in order. What Luke is doing comes before anything else. When he wants either of us to start riding those horses, that’s what we’ll do.”
Luke had been rather grim lipped and silent throughout the meal. Not because of the horses and not because of the yard sale. But his own damned system was in some sort of rebellious mode and it was all because of M
aris. He wasn’t blaming her. It was himself, his own suddenly overactive libido that had him symbolically climbing the walls. He told himself to stop being such a damn fool. Women were a dime a dozen. He could walk into almost any tavern and find several of them sitting on bar stools or at tables with that expectant, inviting expression in their eyes. Of course, not every woman who went to a tavern without an escort was looking for a man. In his experience, however, the percentages were definitely in his favor.
But it wasn’t a woman he hadn’t even met yet that had his blood racing; it was Maris. Maris Wyler, rancher and the widow of his old pal Ray. Maris, with her sun-streaked hair and lean, sensual body. And Maris wasn’t cooperating. She wanted to cooperate, he knew, or thought he knew. But Maris had high morals and strict standards, and she was right about him leaving the minute those horses were sold, so he couldn’t blame her for saying no. Understanding Maris’s attitude didn’t alter his own, however.
After lunch, Luke had gone into the pasture and roped a nervous piebald gelding. He alternated further sessions with Mother and the other horses already in the training process with new trainees. The piebald wasn’t being taken in by Luke’s gift of apples, nor did he let Luke get close enough to rub him down with the feed sack.
The sun was high in the sky and hot. The piebald danced around the corral like a puppet on a string, and Luke patiently kept after him until his shirt was wet with sweat. Maris was hauling out straight-backed wooden chairs from the storage room, and she just happened to be setting one down on the grass, when she looked over to the corral and saw Luke tossing his shirt.
She stood up straighter and stared, drawing in a slow, uneven breath. With the leather gloves on his hands, his faded jeans, his boots and no shirt, he was the most gorgeous specimen of mankind she had ever seen. Intent on the piebald, Luke wasn’t aware of Maris watching. He deftly roped the horse’s back leg with one loop, then the animal’s opposite front leg with another. The ropes were pulled taut and tied to posts in the corral fencing. Blowing and snorting, the piebald tossed his head in fury, but he was unable to rear or run, and Luke walked over to the water spigot at the trough and got himself a drink. That was when he spotted Maris.
