“So as a teenager you must have really taken to this place,” she said.
“At first I missed Diego something awful. Besides that, the other ranch hands were quite a bit older than me, and that made me feel out of place. But they were all kind enough to put up with a wet-nosed kid and after a while it started feeling like home. Now, it is home.”
“Do you ever get the urge to leave?” she asked. “To build a place of your own?”
He frowned. “Why should I do that when I’m perfectly happy here?”
There was a testy note in his voice, one that told Leyla he didn’t appreciate her question. She didn’t let it deter her, though. Not when Laramie didn’t think twice about plying her with personal questions.
“Because you don’t own this place,” she answered. “It belongs to someone else. You work very hard and you’re so devoted to your job. Seems like you’d want your efforts to benefit you.”
“Is that what’s important to you? Owning things?”
“A home isn’t just a ‘thing,’” she said defensively.
He slanted her an annoyed look. “Well, my home is here. I don’t care about the name on the deed.”
The man was satisfied with what he was and where he was. And that was well and good for him, Leyla thought. As a teenager he’d lost his father and his home. He deserved to be happy and contented now. She only wished that her and Dillon’s future was as settled as Laramie’s and that once they left this ranch they would have a decent home waiting for them.
“It’s nice that you feel so deeply about this ranch. Everyone needs a place where they feel like they belong,” she said quietly.
He turned his head slightly to look at her, and this time she could see that his features had softened.
“Maybe you and Dillon belong here, too.”
His subtle suggestion set her heart to pounding, and she purposely turned her gaze away from him and out to the passing landscape.
“Only for a while,” she murmured and wondered why those words put an ache in her heart.
*
For the next ten minutes Laramie drove the truck on a westerly dirt track that took them away from the ranch yard and close to the river’s edge. Along the way, Laramie remained quiet and preoccupied and Leyla got the impression that he was disappointed in her for some reason.
Maybe he’d not appreciated her question about him leaving the Chaparral to build a ranch of his own. Or maybe he’d expected her to say more about her future plans. She didn’t know what the man was thinking and she tried to tell herself it didn’t matter. But that would be a lie. Laramie was beginning to matter to her. Very much.
“Cow, Mommy! Cow!”
Dillon’s excited shouts pulled Leyla out of her thoughts and turned her gaze toward the windshield. Her son had spotted a large herd of red cattle with white faces.
“Yes, I see. The cows are eating grass.” She responded to her son, then glanced at Laramie. “I’ve only seen black cows at the ranch yard. These are different.”
“They’re Herefords. Normally we only run Angus, but we decided to invest in a couple hundred of these just to see how they play out on the cattle market. After we eat, I’ll take Dillon for a closer look,” he told her.”
“I’m sure he’ll like that,” she murmured.
A short distance on down the road, the hard-packed dirt track split in two directions. Laramie took the one that climbed a short distance up a foothill covered with juniper and piñon pine. When they reached the top of the incline, Leyla let out a gasp of delight.
“Oh, how beautiful!”
Below them, the river valley stretched for miles. To their right a ridge of tall pine-covered mountains stood sentinel over the herds of grazing cattle.
“I thought you and Dillon might enjoy eating here,” Laramie spoke up. “It’s a pretty view and there’s plenty of open space here for Dillon to safely explore.”
“It’s great, Laramie,” she said. His thoughtfulness left her feeling somewhat awkward. She’d never had anyone go to this much trouble to give her and her son an enjoyable outing, and she could only wonder if he was expecting something from her in return.
No, she mentally argued. He wasn’t the sort of man who expected payment for doing a thoughtful deed. She needed to quit worrying about his motives and simply focus on enjoying this special time with Laramie and Dillon.
After parking the truck, Laramie lifted the chest with their lunch out of the back of the truck and carried it over to a flat area sheltered on one side by a stand of juniper. Two fallen logs had created a natural L shape perfect for seating.
“Looks like someone has built fires up here before,” Leyla commented as she spotted a ring of blackened rocks.
“Me and a few of the guys stop here sometimes and brew a pot of coffee. It’s a nice place to rest before we finish the ride to the ranch yard.”
The ranch yard was a good five or six miles away from this spot, she calculated. She couldn’t imagine herself staying in the saddle for that long, but when she looked at Laramie’s tough, sinewy body, it was clear he had the stamina to keep going far beyond a normal person’s endurance.
To Leyla’s utter surprise, the bunkhouse cook had gone to the trouble of cooking them a meal of fried chicken and the usual picnic additions to go with it. Dillon ate everything she placed on his paper plate, then asked for more.
Once his tummy was finally full, the boy wandered a few steps away to dig in the dirt with a stick. As Laramie watched him form a shallow trench and fill it with tiny pebbles, he said, “I believe Dillon is enjoying all of this, don’t you?”
On the smooth, bleached-out log, Laramie was sitting no more than a hand’s width away from Leyla and as she turned her face toward his, the distance between them seemed even closer. His nearness caused her pulse to skitter and her breathing to quicken.
“Very much. Other than me taking him to the park, no one has ever bothered to take him on a picnic before. You’re giving him all sorts of new adventures.”
A faint smile grooved his cheeks and Leyla couldn’t help thinking that for such a rugged man, his blue eyes looked so soft and tender, so very tempting.
“What about you? Have you ever been on a picnic before?”
“My sisters and I used to have play picnics in the backyard. We’d pretend we were in a big city park with lots of people in fancy clothes strolling around. And we’d have wonderful things to eat, like exotic fruit that we’d never even seen, much less eaten.” She let out a wistful sigh. “But that was when we were little girls. We didn’t understand what being poor really meant. It’s funny how I look back on those times now and think of us as being rich. At least, us being all together made it feel that way. But it will never be like it was when we were little girls pretending to have a picnic.”
Reaching over, he slipped his big hand over hers. “Nothing stays the same, Leyla. Children grow up. Some day Dillon will be a man and he’ll strike out on his own—away from you.”
“Maybe that’s why my mother stays with my father,” Leyla replied on a pensive note. “She doesn’t want to be alone when all of her children are gone.”
“No one wants to be alone,” he said.
The warmth of his hand and the soft, husky sound in his voice pulled at her, and she couldn’t stop her gaze from settling on his lips or her memory from reliving his kiss.
“Laramie, when I talked to you earlier about building a ranch of your own, it wasn’t my intention to offend you.” The urge to touch him was so great, she couldn’t stop herself from laying her hand on his forearm. “I was… I guess I’m just curious as to why a man as gifted as you doesn’t strike out on his own.”
Something flickered in his eyes before his gaze dropped to her hand resting on his arm. “Someday I’ll try to explain everything better—why this ranch means so much to me.”
“Is living here the reason you’ve not married?” she asked.
That brought his eyes back up to hers. This time th
ere were shadows in the blue depths.
“Partly. It’s hard to get interested in a woman when right off the bat she wants to change me—move me away from all the things I love. I used to tell myself there had to be a woman out there somewhere who’d take me as I am and be happy to live on this isolated ranch. But I gave up looking.”
“You said partly. What’s the other reason you haven’t wanted to marry?”
His gaze flickered back to hers and Leyla’s breath caught in her throat. She’d expected to see defiance in his eyes, not a lost and hungry look that made her want to wrap her arms around him and hold him close to her heart.
“Like I told you, Diego was an old bachelor. It was a long time before I ever knew what a husband was, and even then it was just a word to a kid. I went from a bachelor’s home to living in a bunkhouse with a bunch of other bachelors. Lewis was a husband, but I never saw him interacting with his wife, Frankie. I guess I learned more about what it means to be a husband after Quint married Maura. And that was just a few years ago.”
“So you didn’t grow up with a role model,” she stated.
“That exactly what I’m saying.”
She shook her head. “I thought maybe you weren’t married because you’d had your heart broken or something like that.”
His lips twisted to a wry line. “A few little breaks. Nothing like what you went through.”
Her gaze swung to Dillon. “Having a child changed my life and I don’t regret it. Dillon is my life. Just like the ranch is yours.”
And she’d be crazy to think they could all blend together. She wanted a home for Dillon and herself. She wanted permanence and security. She wasn’t yearning for riches, or things or a fancy house. She only wanted a home. One that couldn’t be taken away from her.
Suddenly it dawned on her that her hand was still resting on Laramie’s arm and his hand hadn’t moved from hers. Being close to him felt almost natural. But where was all of this going to take her? she wondered. Straight to another heartbreak?
The thought had her easing away from him and rising to her feet.
“I think we’d better show Dillon the cows, then start back. He takes a nap in the late afternoon. He’ll be getting sleepy pretty soon.”
“Sure,” he said. “Let’s walk down this side of the hill. There should be a herd right below us.”
*
By the time Laramie drove the truck through the ranch yard, shadows were extending out from the barns and adjoining corrals. The ranch hands were spreading feed to the penned livestock and Dillon had fallen asleep with his head resting against his mother’s arm.
After Laramie parked the truck at the backyard gate and killed the engine, he looked across the seat at her. “Will he wake if I carry him?”
“He’ll never know it,” she assured him. “I’ll walk ahead and open the doors for you.”
As soon as Laramie scooped the child up, he understood what Leyla meant. Dillon’s little arms and legs were limp as he cradled the boy against his chest and started toward the house.
Inside Leyla’s apartment, she motioned him into a small bedroom furnished with two twin beds. He placed the sleeping child on the one that she pointed to, then watched as she removed his tennis shoes and placed them on the floor.
“He’s really out of it,” Laramie said with amazement. “I didn’t know that kids could sleep so soundly.”
“I’m sure all the fresh air and excitement did him in. He’ll be up early. But that’s okay. He had such fun today.”
She covered Dillon with a light blanket, then turned from the bed. “What about you?” Laramie asked. “Did you have fun?”
“I enjoyed it very much,” she told him, then gestured toward the open door of the bedroom. “Would you like to have some coffee or something? Or do you need to get down to the barns before the day ends?”
“I need to check on my mare. The one that had surgery. But I’ll do that before I go to bed. Right now coffee sounds good.”
They walked into the living area and Leyla motioned for him to take a seat, but he shook his head. “While you fix the coffee, I’ll go to the truck and get the leftovers from our lunch. There’s a container of brownies in there, remember?”
She smiled at him. “Yes, I remember you have a sweet tooth.”
And she had very sweet lips, Laramie thought. That was something he couldn’t forget. Even now the urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her was rolling over and over in his mind. Yet sweet as it would be to kiss her again, he didn’t want to risk ruining the day or the closeness he could feel growing between them.
But was getting close to the woman what he really wanted and needed? What would he do if by some miracle Leyla actually fell in love with him or he fell in love with her? Ask her to marry him? Hell, he didn’t know how to be a husband. He’d already made that clear to her. And she was far too precious to hurt with a dead-end affair. But he wanted her. Not just physically. He wanted her company, wanted to hear her voice, see her smile, drink in the sultry scent of her hair and body and pretend, yes pretend, that she would always be with him.
“Laramie? Have you changed your mind about the coffee?”
Her voice penetrated his thoughts and he realized she was waiting for him to follow her out the door and into the main house.
“Changed my mind? Not at all. Let’s go.”
Ten minutes later they were sitting in the atrium drinking coffee and finishing the brownies when Laramie pointed out the splendid sunset spreading across the western skyline.
Leyla set aside her cup and walked over to the end of the room where the glass wall faced the ranch yard.
“How beautiful,” she murmured. “Everything is pink and gold and lavender.”
Laramie came up behind her and placed a hand on the back of her shoulder. “It is beautiful,” he agreed. “The whole day has been pretty special to me. I figure you may have enjoyed a trip into town more, but Dillon seemed to like being outdoors with the animals.”
“Dillon loved it and so did I.”
She turned slightly and the movement caused his fingers to catch in her hair. He used the opportunity to lift a silky strand to his nose and draw in its subtle scent.
“Where do you get the idea that I’m a town girl?” she asked. “I’ve never lived in town.”
“I thought you lived in Farmington before you moved to your aunt’s place on the reservation,” he said.
“My parent’s house is a few miles from Farmington. It’s on the same property where my paternal grandparents lived before they passed on.”
“Hmm. I’ve not done much traveling, but I’ve been through that area. It’s mostly high desert plains with lots of cliffs and rock formations. What did you do there for fun?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Sometimes my sisters and I would go to town and see a movie or window-shop at the mall. But we only had enough money to do that occasionally. I played on a softball team until I was sixteen. And I used to hunt for Native American artifacts with friends. Lots of Indian ruins are located in that area. I’ve saved pieces of pots and tools that I’ve found so that when Dillon gets older I can show him and teach him about his heritage.”
That didn’t surprise him. She had a pride about her that he admired. “Did you work when you still lived at home?”
She nodded. “At night, after school. I bussed tables at a steakhouse in town. I had my driver’s license then but no car, so my mom or sister would pick me up after work. Until I—” Her lips pressed into a thin line and she looked away from him.
“Until you what? Met Heath?”
Surprised, she turned and stared at him. “How did you know I was about to say that?”
He shrugged. “Just a feeling. It’s a cinch you had to meet the guy somewhere. Must have been the steakhouse.”
“No. I wished it had been. Then I probably wouldn’t have given his flirtation any notice. But he was a friend of my cousin, Alonzo. They worked together as roughnecks in the oilfields. He
was a twenty-two-year-old charmer, and I thought because he was such a good friend to Alonzo that he would be trustworthy. By the time I realized he wasn’t, it was too late. I’d already gotten too deep into his lies.”
He touched the back of his forefinger to the faint dent in her chin. “Leyla, when I think of what that bastard did to you I’d like to hunt him down and beat him until he needs his jaw wired shut.” He shook his head with disgust. “Guys like him aren’t men. They’re worse than creatures that crawl on their bellies in the dirt.”
She sighed. “You don’t think he was simply being a man, taking what he wanted?”
“Hell no! Didn’t your mother teach you that a man should treat you with respect? Diego was never a husband, but he knew right from wrong and he taught me that much. And that a man had to stand up to his responsibilities.”
She dropped her head. “I’m not sure my mother knows how a man should treat her. All she knows about is men like my father.” Lifting her head, she gazed up at him. “Heath did turn out to be a scummy person. But in the end I was the stupid one, Laramie, for allowing myself to get involved with him. And I never intend to be stupid again.”
With his hands on her shoulders, Laramie drew her to him. As she settled her cheek against the middle of his chest, the fierce need to love and protect her left an aching knot in his throat.
“You’ve grown into a woman since then, Leyla. You need to trust yourself just as much as—well, as much as you need to trust me.”
“I’m trying, Laramie,” she said, her voice muffled by the folds of his shirt.
For most of Laramie’s youth, he’d been shy and awkward around the opposite sex. Later, his encounters with women had mostly been the short, casual kind where genuine affection in any form hadn’t been required. So he was hardly a practiced lover. But with Leyla everything felt natural, not clumsy or contrived. When he touched her it was actually an extension of the feelings in his heart. And that stunned him.
A Daddy for Dillon Page 9
