by Lori Wilde
As if he’d dusted off a garbage rock to find a sparkling diamond. Ranger pushed back his chair and got to his feet, settled his Stetson onto his head.
“Where you going?” Luke asked.
“I’ve been cleaned out.”
“At low-stakes poker?”
“She . . .” Ranger nodded at Fiona and grinned affably. That was one of the things Ember loved about him. He was a good loser. Probably because he so rarely lost. Maybe he was in shock. “Mopped the floor with my reputation.”
Fiona blew on her knuckles, polished them against her chest, looked sublime. “But the floor’s clean.”
Ranger laughed, a bright bubble of a sound that made Ember’s stomach hurt. Yesterday, he’d barely seemed able to give Fiona the time of day. Tonight, he was eyeing her like she was the blue-plate special.
“So you’re gonna tuck your tail between your legs and head for the hills?” Luke clucked his tongue.
“Nope, I was hoping to take Fiona out for ice cream before the Dairy Queen closes.”
Luke stroked his chin pensively. “Without ever giving us your pitch?”
“All three of them”—Ranger indicated Angi, Andre, and Spencer with a tip of his Stetson—“have more compelling charities than I do, animals, kids, senior citizens. I just want the same thing I always want, to study the stars.”
“Psst,” Ember hissed in his ear. “Outside, Lockhart. Now.”
Ranger grinned and held up a finger. “Go ahead with the card game. We’ll be right back.”
Before he could linger over Fiona, Ember grabbed Ranger’s hand and dragged him through the exit door. They ended up in the alley behind Chantilly’s, breathing in the night air, the smell of refried frijoles from La Hacienda Grill over on Main Street, and the sweet rot of agave cactus blooms scattered across the surrounding desert.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Huh?”
“Don’t be thickheaded.”
“Honest, Sparky, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You’re practically giving Luke’s endowment away, and after I worked so hard to think up alternative funding for Angi and Spencer. It was down to just you and Andre, and you threw in the towel without a whimper.”
“I didn’t throw in the towel. I lost . . . at poker.”
“Yeah, how did that happen?”
“Fiona’s damn good.”
Ember folded her arms over her chest. “Better than you, apparently.”
“I underestimated her.” That same shiny light of respect and appreciation that had come over his face when she’d brought the new and improved Fiona into the poker game lit him up again. “I won’t make that mistake twice.”
“Meaning?”
“I’m going to ask her out.”
“What? Yesterday you jumped my butt for trying to match you.”
“Wasn’t that why you brought her around tonight? To get me interested?”
Initially, but that had changed once she saw how interested he’d gotten. “You’re not the only bachelor on the planet. Spencer and Andre are both single.”
“Fiona’s prettier than I first thought. She’s quiet and she’s good at poker. Three pluses in her column.”
“What column?”
“The I-need-a-wife-to-help-me-further-my-career column.”
Ember settled her hands on her hips. Everything was going according to her plan. Why was she feeling disgruntled? “Fiona is not a doll to be toyed with.”
“No? Then why are you playing dress-up with her? You wanted me to ask her out, I’m asking her.”
Ember’s head was like a swivel, wagging back and forth. “That’s not the best idea in the West.”
“Why not?”
“She’s not right for you.”
“I thought you wanted me to date her,” Ranger said, his tone taking on a cagey note. “Yesterday, you practically threw her at me.”
“That’s when I thought you were opposites. Today I find out she’s a female version of you.”
“And that’s bad?”
“The worst.”
“Why’s that?”
“You need someone the opposite of you. A real go-getter.”
“Fiona was go-getting after that poker hand.”
Ember lifted both shoulders, felt a band of tension stretch her muscles taut. “Point made. Let’s move on.”
“To where?”
“Back inside the bar.”
“What for?”
Ember leaned over to knock her fist against the side of his head. “To get your endowment money, numbskull.”
Being this close to him affected her in a strange way. A way she’d never quite been affected before. She couldn’t really put a name to it, but suddenly, she felt awkward and gangly around him. Not at all herself.
It wasn’t the first time since he’d been back that things had felt different with him. Since he’d been away, it seemed Ranger had gotten handsomer, if that was even possible. His shoulders broader. His winsome smile deeper. His brown eyes darker. His cheekbones more honed. His jawline more chiseled. What in the hell had they fed him in New Zealand? She needed to order a warehouse load of it, ASAP.
Then again, maybe not.
The way she wanted to be near him was rapidly approaching conduct unbecoming of best friends.
She stepped back and tried not to look at him, turned her eyes to the stars, searching for the constellations she’d committed to memory because of him. But tonight, clouds shrouded her view, and it wasn’t exactly a prime sky-eyeing situation. She peeked over at Ranger, and he gave her that endearing you’ll-always-be-my-best-friend smile that generally made her feel all warm and cozy inside but tonight left her feeling off-kilter and out of sorts.
What if she wanted more than friendship?
Oh shit, oh damn, oh three kinds of lollipop hell. Where was this coming from and why?
Ranger reached for the door handle, brushing his arm against her waist in the process and setting innovative tingles firing across her skin.
What was going on? Maybe she was getting shingles. Because it surely couldn’t be a sexual reaction to Ranger.
Could it?
No. No. Absolutely not. Get those weird ideas out of your head right now, missy. Ranger was not a romantic possibility for her.
But why not? whispered her recalcitrant inner monologue. Why the yellow-mustard frig not?
Ranger stopped and stared at her as if he was feeling something novel too. Was it her imagination? Were things shifting between them? Was he becoming as aroused as she was? Ember’s nipples tightened inside her bra.
He lowered his head. Licked his lips.
Holy chain-of-title, she was staring at his lips and he was staring at hers. They had to stop this. Right now.
“Inside,” she barked in her best imitation of a drill sergeant.
“After you.” Ranger held the door open for her, his eyes dark and hooded, giving away nothing, poker-faced and cool.
No. Nothing unusual or suggestive there. It had definitely been her imagination.
Snapping out of her bizarro trance, Ember breezed in ahead of him like nothing had happened, because, let’s face it, nothing had.
And she was glad for that.
So glad.
Glad. Glad. Glad.
Uh-huh. Gladder than glad.
“Hi, Ranger,” Fiona peeped like an Easter chick when they returned to the poker table. She gave him an I-wanna-have-your-babies-and-starch-your-laundry smile. “We’re starting a fresh game. You in?”
With one makeover, meek little Fiona Kelton had become the belle of the ball and a cardsharp to boot.
Irrationally irritated, Ember jammed her fingers through her hair. She should be patting herself on the back for Fiona’s transformation. Instead, all she could think was, I’ve created a monster.
Chapter 7
“Indeed, I am very sorry to be right in this instance. I would much rather have been merry than wise.”
/>
—Jane Austen, Emma
“We heard Andre’s pitch while you were gone,” Luke said, an impish quality creeping into his voice. “It was quite compelling.”
“Very persuasive,” Angi added. “I was ready to give him money.”
“You’re the last one to pitch, Range.” Luke cocked his chair back on two legs. “Let’s hear it.”
Ranger sank into the chair he’d vacated earlier, feeling strangely light-headed after talking with Ember in the alley, and he had no reason for it. He’d only had the one beer.
But for a crazy moment there, when he’d stared into her eyes and she’d moistened her lips with her pink feminine tongue, he’d had an overwhelming urge to kiss her and not in a hey there, good buddy, kind of way.
Now, he was having a hard time meeting her gaze.
It wasn’t the first time he’d had an impulse to kiss her. But years ago, Ranger had chosen the high road with Ember. He’d done the honorable thing, the noble thing, and sacrificed his desires for the sake of their friendship. He might be a gambler at cards, but when it came to the possibility of losing Ember’s friendship, he was as cautious as an actuary.
Whenever unwanted desires arose, he’d always managed to stuff them away—mainly by focusing on what he loved best, astronomy—but since he’d been back home, Ranger found himself drawn to Ember so strongly that he didn’t know if he could keep resisting.
That new knowledge scared him more than he cared to admit.
So when Fiona batted her eyes at him, Ranger thought, what the hell, why not, and just went with it. If Ember thought Fiona was a good choice for him, he should give her a chance.
“We missed you,” Fiona said.
“Because you couldn’t wait to beat the pants off me again?” he teased, doffing his Stetson and setting it on the table.
“Strip poker!” Fiona said gleefully. “Now there’s an idea.”
“No one is taking their clothes off!” Ember snapped as if it had been a serious suggestion.
Ranger shot Ember a sidelong glance. What was going on here? Was she jealous of Fiona? That thought intrigued and delighted him.
Ember tacked up a quick smile and rushed to make amends. “This is a business meeting, after all . . . well, of sorts.”
Nah. He had to be imagining things. Why would Ember be jealous? She was the one throwing Fiona at him. Then again, she had backpedaled on Fiona out there in the alley.
He tilted his head, eyed Ember, who was shuffling the cards and purposefully avoiding looking at him. Hmm. Yeah? Maybe?
“Or we could forget the game entirely and go for ice cream,” Ranger suggested to Fiona.
“I’m game.” Fiona reached for her purse.
“Really?” Ranger said, watching Ember.
“Oh absolutely,” Fiona chirped.
“Dairy Queen closes at ten during the week,” Ember said, her gaze firmly fixed on the cards she was expertly shuffling.
“I’ve got Blue Bell in my freezer.” Fiona was giving those false eyelashes a real workout.
“You don’t say?” Ranger drawled, toying with the label on his empty beer bottle.
“Is it Rocky Road?” Ember asked. “Because Rocky Road is his favorite.”
“No,” Fiona said. “It’s plain vanilla.”
“You know,” Ranger said, never taking his eyes off Ember, noticed goose bumps popped up her arms and it was not cool in the bar. “Sometimes a guy likes his roads nice and smooth. No rocky nuts. No sticky marshmallow. Plain vanilla sounds mighty good.”
“Since when?” Ember snorted.
“I’ve been down under for a year.” Ranger grinned, loving that he was getting Ember’s goat. “A lot of things have changed.”
“Ahem,” Luke said. “Tell us about the stars, Ranger. Convince me why the observatory deserves my endowment.”
“Yes.” Fiona sighed dreamily and peeked at the cards Ember had dealt, ice cream apparently forgotten. “Tell us about the stars. I’d love to hear all about it.”
As much fun as he was having needling Ember, the pull of his favorite topic took over and Ranger found himself waxing about the wonders of outer space.
“Wow,” Andre said. “Luke, you should give Ranger the money. Everyone will donate to kids, but not as many will invest in something as intangible as space research, and he’s making it sound so important for the future of our species.”
“Andre is right,” Ember told Luke. “I know at least two dozen people who’d be willing to donate either time or money to Andre’s summer camp. I can get on the phone tomorrow morning and round up donations for him.”
“Notice how hard she’s working it for Ranger?” Spencer pointed out. “Ranger, I hope you appreciate what a gem you have in Ember.”
No news flash there. Ranger studied his best friend; hell, he’d known she was special since he was eight years old and stuck in bed with rheumatic fever. She was the only one who’d consistently dropped by his sick room every day after school, loaded with stories of her adventures on the playground. She’d been his window to the world.
In all honesty, wasn’t she still?
They kept playing. Spencer dropped out at eleven p.m., quickly followed by Angi and Andre until it was just Luke, Ranger, Ember, and Fiona at the table. This time, Ranger did not underestimate Fiona. He’d quickly learned her tells and bidding strategies and he was winning.
Marginally.
“Where did you learn to play poker?” he asked Fiona.
“My daddy was a degenerate gambler,” she said in a tone so cheerful it was unsettling. “It’s why I work for the church. Don’t get me wrong, I love my daddy, but what he put our family through . . . let’s just say it made me want to walk closer to the Lord.”
Ranger had a wild urge to say, “Amen.” He met Ember’s eyes and could tell she had the same urge too. They burst out laughing.
“What?” Fiona asked, her eyes widening and her perky smile losing some of its starch. “What’s so funny?”
“Ranger,” Ember said at the same time Ranger said, “Ember.”
“Don’t pay them any mind,” Luke soothed. “Those two can communicate with just a glance. They’re like twins with their own secret language or something.”
Fiona yawned, covered her mouth. “This is way past my bedtime. I get up at five-thirty every morning to pray and read the Bible before work. Rain check on the ice cream, Ranger?”
“Rain check,” he agreed easily.
“Could you give me a ride home?” Fiona asked Ember.
“Sure, sure.” Ember grabbed her purse, and ruffled Ranger’s hair as she went past him.
“I had a very nice time,” Fiona called to Luke.
“You can join Monday night poker anytime.” Luke stood up and bowed gallantly.
“I don’t think I’ll become a regular. I don’t want to end up like my daddy. In the poorhouse and sorry for everything on his deathbed. Good thing Mama divorced him before he could blow through all my inheritance.” Fiona wriggled her fingers. “Good night.”
Ember and Fiona left, and Luke sank back down into his chair, a Wile E. Coyote grin eating up his face. “And then there was one.”
Ranger had a feeling the entire night had been orchestrated for this moment. “What’s going on here, Nielson? Has this card game just been a setup?”
“Setup?” Luke said it so innocently, Ranger knew it was true.
“Cards on the table,” Ranger said. “No more pussyfootin’ around. What’s the story?”
Luke splayed both his palms against the table. “Straight up?”
“Straight up.”
“Ember already had donors lined up for the other causes. I’d planned to give you the endowment all along.”
“Ember was in on this?”
Luke shrugged. “The whole thing was her idea.”
He should have known. Ember thought she knew what was best for everyone. “And Fiona’s card playing?”
“Fiona was a curveball. Neither Embe
r nor I saw those four threes coming.”
“Why the subterfuge?”
Luke rubbed his chin, considered Ranger with a speculative stare. “There is a stipulation I didn’t think you’d agree to unless you knew that other people were vying for the endowment.”
An uneasy feeling crawled across his skin. He needed this money if he wanted the permanent position at the observatory, and he needed it fast. Luke was his only reasonable chance of achieving his goal. “What stipulation?”
“Just in case you didn’t know, I’m producing a film about the Trans-Pecos and the founding fathers of Cupid.”
“Huh?” He might have heard someone mention it at the christening, but he hadn’t been paying much attention since it seemed galaxies away from affecting him. “What made you decide to go into the movie business?”
“I’m not in the movie business, I’m in the promoting tourism to our hometown business.”
“What does Melody think about this?” Ranger said, referring to Luke’s wife, who had a background in advertising and had once worked on Madison Avenue.
“She’s the driving force behind the whole thing. Much as Ember is the driving force behind you.”
“What’s all this got to do with me?”
“For starters, more tourists to the Trans-Pecos means more tourists at the observatory. I’ll make sure Wes understands how crucial your involvement is in my decision to donate money. Adds a feather in your cap.”
“I wear a Stetson,” Ranger teased.
“Cap. Hat.” Luke’s shrug was mayoral, a man accustomed to navigating obstacles with aplomb. “Same difference.”
“It’s a feather in your cap, Luke.”
“Finish hearing me out, would you?”
Yeah, about that. Ranger wasn’t sure he wanted to hear him out. “Just tell me what hoops I have to jump through to get the money.”
“The role of Edward Fitzgerald Beale—”
Aww crap. Ranger knew where this was headed. “You want me to play him?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“For one thing, you look a bit like Beale. For another thing, you’re the only one around here besides Zeke Tremont who knows anything about camels. And we’ve got a lot of camels that need wrangling.”
