by Lori Wilde
“Don’t lie to me. I know when something’s bothering you.”
She slid a sidelong glance his way and in a bit, her lips curled into a new smile. “I can’t hide anything from you.”
“Ditto.”
“I’m sorry I’m not normal enough for you.”
“I didn’t mean it the way it came out. I was startled. I enjoy the fact that you’re not like other women. Please forgive me.”
She shrugged, grinned again. “No biggie.”
Maybe not, but the easiness between them was gone, and Ranger couldn’t help feeling he deserved a swift kick in the ass.
They soared along for several more minutes, and then Ember put slack in the sail, slowing down.
“We’re stopping already?” he asked.
“We’re almost back at the start.”
“So soon?”
“You want to keep going?”
“Well, we did come all the way out here.”
Ember’s nimble fingers worked the rigging and the land sail did a one-eighty.
His stomach lurched with the motion, but he’d asked for it. A helpless grin took over his face when she cornered on two wheels again, spinning them around in a complete circle. Once, twice, three times.
“Show-off,” he accused good-naturedly.
She beamed. A right happy bit of sunshine. “Fun, isn’t it?”
“No,” he lied.
“That’s a shame because I’m doing it again on the other side.” She shifted, and they spun another two-wheeled circle on the other side.
“What am I going to do with you?”
“Nothing,” she said, whispered almost inaudibly, “everything.”
She winked at him, saucy and daring. He loved that wink. He dreamed about that wink. He let it wash over him like rainbows after a storm, luxuriating in the feeling, knowing if he permanently moved away to the opposite side of the world and could no longer see that wink every day, he would be poorer because of it.
Ranger didn’t think she was normal either. That was her takeaway from their land sailing adventure.
They’d been having such fun, and then he’d gone and said something like that. Ranger, the one guy who she thought accepted her unconditionally. She was too much for him too, just like she’d been too much for Trey.
Why had she insisted they go land sailing?
Honestly? She’d wanted one last adventure with him before she started seriously trying to find him a wife. There weren’t many more days like this in their future.
That made her sad.
Shake it off. Life moved on. Things changed. People changed. They would still be friends even after she found him a normal woman.
Okay, that sounded a lot like self-pity, and Ember had no patience for self-pity, not even her own.
She glanced over at Ranger as he took off his helmet and handed it to the tour operator and oh, dear God. “You’re toast.”
“What?” He looked up at her, blinked, frowned, and twisted his mouth sideways.
“Burnt to a crisp.”
He touched a hand to his face, to a cheek torched fiery red. “Ouch.”
“I gave you sunscreen.”
“I know. I’m an idiot.” Looking chagrined, he took the bottle of sunscreen from his pocket and passed it to her.
“Not an idiot. Just forgetful.” She dug in her oversized tote bag. “Hang on, I’ve got aloe gel.”
Chewing on a licorice stick, the tour operator watched them with mild interest. “That bag is big enough to hold a dead body.”
Ember ignored that, found the aloe, and surged toward Ranger, who was looking pretty sheepish in his scarlet sunburn. “Stand still.”
She leaned in closer, her breasts accidentally grazing his shoulder. Instantly, a zing of electricity passed from him to her. Shocked at the intensity of sensation, she sucked in a deep breath, stepped back a few inches and tried to act like nothing had happened. But his masculine scent had gotten tangled up in her nose and she felt mildly dizzy.
“What are you doing?” Ranger asked, his voice coming out in gravelly clots.
“Um . . . um . . .” she said, not really sure how to respond. Her mind was still whirling from their unintentional contact. Her entire body tingling.
“She’s trying to keep you from turning into a lobster, brother.” The tour operator bit a chunk off his licorice stick. Chewed vigorously. Swallowed. “I’d do what she says.”
“I’m not a kid,” Ranger growled, and scowled at Ember. “Stop treating me as if I was one.”
“Uh-huh,” Ember murmured, dabbing his hot cheeks with aloe. The zinging tingle that had lit up her breasts when she brushed his shoulders now danced and pulsated in her fingertips.
“Quit rubbing on me.”
“Stop grouching at her,” the tour operator said.
“Shut it,” Ranger told the guy.
“Just a second more.” Ember massaged his chin, prickly with a day’s growth of thick, dark beard, in a circular motion.
He reached out to manacle her wrist, stopping her in mid-daub. “Ember!” His tone was sharp, commanding. “Dammit woman, give me the gel. I can put it on myself.”
There was something in the way he said “woman,” all manly and in charge that sent her heart fluttering.
Jolted by his gruffness, she dropped the gel in his upstretched palm, her stomach whirling and diving, took another big step back. Felt sand shift over the side of her sneakers and into her half sock. Dropped her gaze. Saw Ranger had a partial erection.
Had she caused that?
Ranger smeared his face with a handful of gel and didn’t meet her gaze, a guilty expression darkening his eyes.
Her best friend had gotten a boner over her touching him. Ember gulped. It was a lot to process.
“Babe,” said the tour operator. “Don’t bother with that guy. You can rub me with gel anytime.”
“Shut it,” Ranger and Ember hollered at him in unison.
“Well,” said the tour operator, clearly miffed. “If y’all are gonna be like that, I’m not offering you one of my licorice sticks like I was gonna.”
“Thank God for that,” Ranger said to him. To Ember he said, “Wanna get the hell out of here?”
“We need to talk about what happened back there,” Ember said, driving her Infinity back to Cupid.
“Let’s not.”
“Denial is—”
“Nothing happened,” he said, lacing his voice with steel. A voice that told her to drop the topic like a hot potato.
But Ember was notorious for ignoring commands. “You got a bo—”
“Ember,” he warned. “Do not say anything more.”
She clamped her lips together, a pulse at her temple throbbing visibly. “But—”
“Shh.”
“I—”
“Hush.”
“Did—”
“Don’t even.”
“Ranger, we—”
“Drop it,” he snarled, and then added, “please.”
“You have nothing to be ashamed of,” she forged ahead.
“I’m not ashamed.”
“But you don’t even want to talk about it.”
Ranger groaned. “Look,” he said. “Don’t take it personally. I haven’t had sex since Tonya. It doesn’t mean anything.” That wasn’t true, but the last thing he wanted was to alienate her.
She pursed her lips, slipped a quick glance over at him. “I didn’t think it did. Trust me. I get it. Long dry spell here too.”
Whew. That was good. He guessed.
She was quiet for a moment, then added, “I was flattered.”
Ranger smacked his forehead with the heel of his palm.
“What?” she said, sounding totally innocent, as if she had no idea how much she turned him on.
Maybe she didn’t.
“We’re best friends. We should be able to talk about this. We should be able to talk about anything.”
Like the fact he wanted to ask her to pul
l over onto the shoulder of the road so he could take her in the back seat of her car, right here, right now. Yeah, that would go over like a lead balloon. He wasn’t about to risk losing their friendship just because he’d gotten a boner when she’d put lotion on his face. Being in the friend zone was better than no zone.
“Ember,” he said.
“Yes?” She turned her head, her blue eyes open and warm.
“For all that is holy, let us never speak of this again.”
For the first time in thirty-two years, Ember seriously considered what it might be like to have sex with Ranger.
Oh sure, she’d had fleeting thoughts over the years, but the second they cropped up she’d immediately dismissed them. And she’d been pretty good at stamping them out.
Until he’d returned.
Something was different. About him. Between them. She didn’t know what that something was, but she certainly didn’t know how to navigate the current of sexual tension that had been building between them since she’d thrown herself into his arms at Susan and Bryant’s wedding.
Now he was in her head, and all she could think about was having wild, crazy sex with him in all kinds of exotic and erotic places.
The boner was a big deal.
It meant he wanted her.
At least on a physiological level. But psychologically? There were a lot of land mines. More than she could count. Too many to take a chance on with this new sexual chemistry surging between them. If they tried to take their relationship to another level and one of those land mines detonated . . . goodbye best friend.
She really had only one choice. Get him hooked up with an appropriate woman ASAP. He needed somewhere to channel his sexual energy and she needed . . .
Well, what did she need?
She wanted Ranger to be happy, but at her own expense?
What was she saying? That she wanted more than friendship from Ranger?
Ember glanced over at her best friend. He was cocked back against the passenger seat, Stetson pulled down over his face, hands folded over his flat belly, booted feet stretched out. Mismatched boots.
Again.
She smiled at his absentmindedness, a tender tug at her heart, and she mentally erased the sexy thoughts bubbling in the back of her brain. Her best friend might be the hottest thing since Texas toast, but did she dare cross that line and make him her lover?
Ember was a line crosser from way back, but when it came to maintaining her friendship with Ranger, she respected the fact that this new, multifaceted chemical reaction was like a downed power line.
Alive with electricity and dangerous as hell.
Chapter 10
“One half of the world cannot understand the pleasures of the other.”
—Jane Austen, Emma
A week had gone by since the boner incident, and things had gone back to normal between Ranger and Ember.
At least on the surface.
They did the things they usually did. Texted or called each other at least once a day, met for Sunday brunch at the Sunshine Diner. Volunteered at the adult literacy center on Tuesday night, helping people learn to read. Played pool and shot darts at Chantilly’s afterward with Rhett and his date, and nobody bothered to learn her name because they knew she wouldn’t last. They spent Memorial Day weekend together, a party at the Silver Feather, riding horses in the desert, hanging out at Ridge and Kaia’s house on Monday for a barbecue and spent the afternoon alternating between swimming in the pool and cuddling their goddaughter.
But underneath, something significant had shifted, something that they did not talk about or fully acknowledge even to themselves. Their easy camaraderie evaporated, and in its place was an odd alertness, an on-guard tension that had not existed before.
Occasionally, Ember would glance up and catch Ranger studying her with a watchful eye. Whenever they touched, instead of the casual brushing of their hands or knees or feet, suddenly everything felt weighted, important. It was as if even the simplest contact held new and mysterious meaning. A hidden context, deep and wary.
Ember was unhappy in this new reality, but she didn’t know what to do about it, so she pretended it wasn’t happening.
Ignorance was bliss, right?
Filming on The Cupid Camel Corps started Tuesday following Memorial Day, and the first scenes were being shot at Fort Davis. On that morning, the sun shone intensely bright, but there was a solid breeze coming down from the mountain, cooling things off.
Unfortunately, the wind was also kicking up sand eddies and swirling bits of desert debris.
Ranger stood on the front steps of one of the old barracks, looking too damn handsome in his military costume, an enigmatic smile on his face. She knew how much he liked wind. He claimed it cleared out stagnant energy. He was the kind of man who shut off the AC and opened the windows whenever weather allowed.
Bullhorn in hand, Ember was in her element, telling people what to do. She might not be the most lovable person in town, but when she spoke, folks listened.
“Everyone gather ’round,” she commanded.
Immediately, the film crew and actors ringed her.
She liked being in charge. It made her feel useful. Needed. Important. And after Trey, her ego could use the boost. Which honestly, wasn’t that why she’d agreed when Luke approached her about directing the film?
Quickly, she introduced herself to those who did not know her well, welcoming everyone to the set, thanking them for being part of the team and launching into the housekeeping details—her expectations, rules and regulations, human resource issues, etcetera . . .
Her assistant, Chriss Anne, stood at Ember’s elbow taking notes on her tablet computer. Ember hadn’t forgotten Chriss Anne’s request to find her a man. She’d just been busy with other things.
There were sixteen male crewmembers. Ten under the age of thirty. Six of those unmarried. Included among those six were Palmer and Zeke. Either one might work for Chriss Anne. But which was the right man?
On the one hand, you had flash and flair. On the other, you had true-blue, dependable, steady, but let’s face it, a bit boring.
Maybe it was neither. Maybe Chriss Anne’s best fit was someone else entirely.
Ember thought of the board game Mystery Date that she’d played with her sisters when they were kids. Open the door and find out if you got the prom date or the Nerd or somewhere in between. She’d always secretly been thrilled to get the Nerd, while everyone else sighed for the prom date. Face it, she was attracted to smart guys.
So why had she ended up with a go-getter frat boy type like Trey? Okay, he had been handsome as sin and built like a linebacker. Was she really that shallow?
Once everyone understood what was expected, Ember settled into the director’s chair—metaphorically speaking. She wasn’t the kind of director to sit and point. She was on her feet. Peering over Palmer’s shoulder.
Palmer smelled really nice, she noted, and hoped Chriss Anne liked aftershave with undertones of balsam.
As for herself, Ember preferred Ranger’s scent. A warm woody aroma, slightly sweet and papery—expensive leather, worn cloth, a hint of furniture polish. He smelled like a library, bookish and brainy. A magical bouquet as intoxicating to a reader as great wine was to a connoisseur—a literary version of vintner terroir. A fragrance of excitement, adventure, discovery, and knowledge.
Fiona, being bookish herself, should love Ranger’s natural cologne too.
Everything was on track. So why did she feel a pang in the center of her stomach at the image of Fiona and Ranger lounging and reading together on a Sunday afternoon?
To kick-start something between Chriss Anne and Palmer, she positioned her assistant close to where Palmer was filming. Ember skipped ahead in the script, jumping to the scene where Edward—Ranger—and his new bride, Mary—Fiona—had first arrived at Fort Davis and poor Mary was dismayed with the harsh conditions she found in the arid desert land.
Skipping ahead in the script was
a strategic move. The opening scene was set in Pennsylvania where Edward first kissed Mary and asked for her hand in marriage. From a directorial standpoint, she wanted Ranger and Fiona to be comfortable with each other when the big kiss finally came. And from a matchmaking standpoint, she didn’t want to rush Ranger and Fiona’s romance and throw them right into a kiss scene.
After all, a good courtship was well paced.
If everything played out the way Ember intended, by the end of the day, when filming wrapped, Ranger would take Fiona out to dinner and Palmer would be well on his way to asking out Chriss Anne. Even if Ember had to manipulate things a bit to make it happen.
But by noon things were not going according to plan.
Fiona and Ranger had zero chemistry on screen. They recited their lines by rote. No emotion, no verve, no joie de vivre.
Ember filmed take after take, nudging, cajoling, encouraging. “You can do this. C’mon, Ranger, remember Edward loves this woman. And Fiona, Mary was crazy enough about Edward to follow him to this dangerous barren land. Let us see how devoted you are to him.”
Fiona cleared her throat and raised a timid hand.
“You don’t have to raise your hand,” Ember said. “If you have a question, just ask it.”
“Okay.” Fiona bobbed her head like a prim little bird, a wren or something equally small and adorable.
Really, Ember? This was the life mate she’d chosen for Ranger? Upon reflection, this pair up wasn’t the best idea. Ranger needed someone with more grit and fire.
Ember pushed that thought aside. She’d done a lot of work making over Fiona, and Ranger had seemed amenable to dating her. Fiona just needed to overcome her insecurities. Ember could help with that.
Fiona could be a good match because as a wife, Ember convinced herself, Fiona wouldn’t get in the way of Ranger’s work. When he needed to dive deeply into his research, Fiona was the kind of woman who would be easy to tune out—undemanding, accommodating, easygoing.
But was this matchup fair to Fiona? Didn’t she deserve someone who was crazy for her?
And shouldn’t Ranger have a woman who captured his attention in every way? A woman for whom he would happily put a book down or step away from a telescope?
