Wrangling the Redhead

by Sherryl Woods

  Wade laughed. “Good idea.” He held out a hand and helped her up. “Now scoot, before these noble intentions of mine lose out to my hormones.”

  “Your place in a half hour?” she asked.

  “Perfect,” he agreed.

  Okay, maybe not so perfect, he thought as he headed home. How the hell was he supposed to keep his hands to himself all evening long, now that he knew exactly how Lauren felt beneath his touch?

  Chapter Seven

  Lauren spent ten of the precious thirty minutes Wade had granted her down in the barn trying to make herself presentable in case she ran into Grady or Karen up at the house. She didn’t want either of them to take one look at her and conclude that she and Wade had been rolling around in the hay. Which, of course, they had been. Unfortunately—from her perspective—they had stopped short of making love.

  Okay, maybe it wasn’t unfortunate. Wade had seen what she hadn’t been willing to admit. She wasn’t ready to make the kind of commitment that would go along with that kind of intimacy. More important, she wasn’t sure Wade was ready for any kind of commitment at all.

  If she were a different person, maybe it wouldn’t have mattered. They could have spent a few wonderfully wicked hours in each other’s arms, then gone right along as if nothing momentous had happened. Sadly, though, Lauren had learned that she was really lousy at casual sex. Come to think of it, she wasn’t much better with committed relationships, either, she reminded herself. She had two divorces to attest to that.

  Of course, maybe the reason she’d jumped into those marriages had been the belief that commitment and sex went hand in hand, an anti-free-love morality, as it were. Maybe this time she should try to separate the two and not assume that just because she and Wade had all this delicious chemistry between them, they were suited to making a lifetime commitment.

  “Well, hell,” she muttered as she tried to make sense of it and couldn’t.

  She tied the ends of her blouse together in a knot that would at least give the illusion it was meant to be worn without buttons. As long as she didn’t make any sudden movements or quick turns, it should get her past any inquisitive gazes.

  En route to the house, Lauren went back over her quandary. If she wasn’t any good at casual sex and was no better at marriage, what was left? She had a feeling she’d better figure that out in a hurry, since the heat between her and Wade wasn’t something she could ignore forever. They were going to land in bed together. The only question left was on what terms? It was one thing to have a relationship end messily in Hollywood, quite another to stir up talk in Winding River.

  As she neared the house, she could hear Grady and Karen in the kitchen, so she slipped around to the front door and fled up the steps. Once she’d washed her face, put on a light dusting of fresh makeup and brushed her hair, she felt marginally better. Clean clothes accomplished the rest. By the time she went downstairs, she was prepared to make a quick dash right back out the front door.

  She’d almost made it, too, when Karen planted herself squarely in her path.

  “Going somewhere, Lauren?” her friend inquired cheerfully, a glint in her eyes. “Don’t think for a second that I didn’t see you sneaking around the house and creeping upstairs hoping that we wouldn’t see you. Now, here you go again, trying to slip out the front door undetected.” She glanced toward Grady, who was watching the entire scene with amusement. “I think she’s trying to keep something from us, don’t you?”

  “Looks that way,” he agreed.

  “If I had to guess, I’d say she has a hot date,” Karen noted, surveying Lauren intently.

  “I’m wearing old jeans and a T-shirt. Why would you think that?” Lauren demanded, totally perplexed by the assumption. “There is nothing remotely ‘hot’ about this outfit.”

  “Maybe not on the average woman, but on you?” Grady said. “I’ve got to go with Karen on this one.”

  Lauren frowned at him. “Oh, for Pete’s sake, I’m running over to grab a quick bite with Wade. That’s it. No mystery. No big romance. Just dinner.”

  Grady’s eyebrows rose. “At his place?”

  “Yes, why not? Is that some sort of big deal?”

  Karen grinned and rolled her eyes. “She’s going to a man’s place and he’s cooking, and she wants to know if it’s a big deal? Girl, you have been out of circulation too long. It is a very big deal.”

  “He’s fixing an omelette, not serving caviar and champagne,” Lauren retorted irritably.

  Grady suddenly looked worried. “Lauren, is that what it’s going to take to impress you? Caviar and champagne? I don’t think Wade’s that kind of guy.”

  “He’s not, thank heavens,” she agreed fervently. “Now if you two will stop hovering, I can go over there before dinner’s ruined.”

  “Seems anxious,” Karen teased.

  “Very anxious,” Grady agreed.

  “You know, as two people who spend every spare second sneaking off to their bedroom, you may not have the best qualifications to act like a couple of nosy chaperons,” Lauren pointed out. “If you’re not careful, Wade and I might decide to keep you company every single evening from here on out.”

  Grady wrapped his arms around Karen’s waist from behind. “Let her go,” he said at once.

  Karen laughed. “By all means.”

  Lauren darted out the front door, pretending that she didn’t hear the hoots of laughter that followed her. That was the trouble with two people knowing her as well as Grady and Karen did—they thought they could get away with anything. After all, she had popped up repeatedly during their courtship. One of these days, though, Lauren was going to get even with them for tonight. She just had to come up with a plan diabolical enough. Maybe the rest of the Calamity Janes would help—although more than likely they’d be on Karen and Grady’s side. They were all born meddlers. Heck, she’d been one herself up till now.

  As Lauren neared Wade’s house, her footsteps slowed. Memories of the heat she and Wade had generated earlier in the barn flushed her skin. Was she expecting a repeat of that tonight? Hoping for it?

  “Dinner’s going to be burned if you stand out there too much longer.”

  Wade’s voice carried on the still night air, startling her. She could barely see him in the shadows, his feet propped on the porch railing.

  “Sorry, I got sidetracked by Grady and Karen,” she muttered as she joined him.

  “Which doesn’t explain why you were just standing out here,” he teased. “Scared to come inside?”

  The accurate accusation grated. A flash of temper came and went in a heartbeat. “That just makes me smart,” she said.

  “Oh? How so?”

  She forced herself to meet his gaze without blinking. “Because of what happened in the barn a little while ago. We agreed we were going a little too fast. Now here we are alone together again, with all that energy still charging around in the atmosphere.”

  He grinned. “Then it is still charging around for you, too? I was afraid it was just me. I took the coldest shower I’ve ever taken in my life, and then you waltz across the yard and I’m so hot I could haul you straight off to bed right now.”

  Lauren swallowed hard at the temptation that shot through her. “We had a deal,” she reminded him.

  He sighed heavily. “I was afraid you were going to bring that up. Leave it to you to test a man’s honor. Oh, well, come on inside and let’s eat. We’ll have a pleasant, quiet dinner and then discuss the rest.”

  She grinned despite herself. “You, a man of action, intend to discuss whether or not we have sex?”

  “Hey, I’m a reasonable guy. I’m willing to look at all sides of the issue.”

  “I’ll hold you to that.”

  When he led the way inside, carefully keeping his hands to himself, Lauren looked around curiously. It was a typical, simply decorated ranch outbuilding—a cottage, really—with masculine colors and a few oversize pieces of furniture suited to big men. The only personal touch she cou
ld see was a small framed picture of a woman, her arms wrapped around the waist of a grinning boy. There was no mistaking that the boy was a younger version of Wade.

  “Is this your mother?” she asked him.

  He glanced at the picture, then nodded.

  “She’s beautiful.”

  The comment seemed to startle him. “Yeah, I suppose she is.”

  “What about your father?” she asked, then saw at once that it was the wrong thing to bring up. His jaw clenched visibly at the mention of his father, and his hands bunched into fists.

  “Never knew him,” he said tersely. “It was just my mother and me.” He turned away and began cooking the diced onions and peppers in the omelette pan on the stove. He focused so hard on his actions, Lauren was surprised all the circuits in his brain didn’t burn up.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, hoping to smooth things over.

  “Nothing to be sorry for. It’s just the way it was,” he said, his grim expression belying the casual tone. “We did okay.”

  “Where is your mother now?”

  “Still working at the same bar in Billings.”

  Lauren debated her next question, then decided to ask anyway. She needed to know what made Wade tick, and the only way to get to the truth was to push the boundaries, even when the topic clearly made him uncomfortable. “Is that where she met your father?”

  He turned and scowled at her. “Why do you care about this?”

  “Because you’re not as blasé about it as you want me to believe. What do you know about him?”

  “I know that he was a no-good son of a bitch who used my mother, then paid her off, rather than deal with the consequences. She wasn’t the first woman Blake Travis used and discarded, and she likely wasn’t the last. That’s what his kind do.”

  Wade’s bitterness cut straight through her. “His kind?”

  “The rich and powerful. They take whatever they want. They’re users. Give me someone who does an honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay any time.”

  Lauren felt her gut tighten at the depth of his anger toward an entire category of people. Worse, in his eyes, she was probably a part of that very category. He just didn’t know it. How would he feel about her once he learned the obscene amount of money she made for what must seem like play to the uninitiated?

  “Grady’s rich, but he’s not like that,” she pointed out, testing the waters with an example less risky than herself.

  “No,” he agreed. “Grady seems to be a decent guy. I have no complaints where he’s concerned, but I also have no illusions. He’s got money and he’s got power. His grandfather’s a politician and a Native American activist. I’m an employee here, not Grady’s pal.”

  She stared at him in shock. “You’ve got to be kidding. Grady respects you. He likes you. What would ever give you the idea that he doesn’t consider you his equal in every way?”

  “That’s just the way it is,” he said, his mouth set in a tight line. “We get along fine as long as I don’t cross that invisible line between us.”

  “If Grady was like that, do you think he’d approve of me being here with you tonight?”

  He hesitated, then shrugged, dismissing the question. “It’s not up to him. He probably knows he can’t control you.”

  “Talk about being prejudiced,” she accused. “That’s the worst case of reverse snobbery I’ve ever heard.”

  He shrugged off the accusation. “Well, that’s who I am. Take me or leave me.”

  “What if I were to tell you that I’m rich?”

  He laughed as if it were the most ludicrous idea he’d ever heard. “For starters, I wouldn’t believe it.”

  “Why not?” she probed, curious about exactly how he’d reached the conclusion that she didn’t belong to a class of people he despised.

  “Because you’re living off the kindness of the Blackhawks, for one thing. And you work as hard as anybody else, no matter how filthy or demanding the job.”

  “Thank you,” she said, even though he was only half-right. She did work hard. What was he going to do, though, when he found out the rest was wrong, that she was as rich as Grady and then some? She should tell him, right here and now. Get the truth out in the open and force him to deal with it. Or not.

  It was the latter that made her hesitate. Wade was the best man to come into her life in a long time. She didn’t want to risk losing him over something as trivial to her as the amount of money in her bank account. In time, when and if their relationship was on solid ground, she would tell him everything—about her career, her money, her marriages.

  “You went quiet all of a sudden,” he said as he set a plate in front of her. “Something you want to say?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing. I could debate you all night on the absurdity of your bias, but I can see I’d be wasting my breath.”

  He nodded. “You certainly would.” He held up a bottle of white wine and a beer. “What’s your pleasure?”

  “Beer,” she said at once, then realized she’d done it in some mistaken attempt to prove that she wasn’t some sort of elitist who only sipped wine with her meals. She refused to be somebody she wasn’t just to avoid a conflict with his prejudice. “No, actually, I’d prefer the wine.”

  “No problem,” he said easily, opening the bottle and pouring a glass for her. He popped the top on the beer for himself and drank it from the bottle.

  Maybe he hadn’t intended it that way, but Lauren saw it as a defiant gesture, an attempt to prove just how down-to-earth—how different from the rich and powerful—he was. Maybe it was even an unconscious attempt to put some distance between them. She stared at him over the rim of her glass.

  “It’s not going to work, you know.”

  His startled gaze met hers. “What?” he asked.

  “The attempt to remind me what a badass kind of guy you are.”

  His lips twitched. “Is that what I’m doing? How?”

  “The tough talk. Swigging your beer down straight from the bottle. Grady does the same thing. So do most of the men around here, rich or poor. I’m used to it. As you’ve already learned, character and money don’t necessarily go hand in hand. You can be poor and still be an honorable, decent guy. Or you can be rich as Midas and be a creep, like your father.”

  She studied him intently. “Or is it really your contention that only the poor, struggling working man can be decent? And that all the rich must be jerks?”

  “When you put it that way, it does sound like a gross generalization,” he admitted grudgingly. “Still, I’ve learned the hard way to watch my step around anyone with the big bucks. It’s better to steer clear than to be taken advantage of. If you don’t give them the opportunity, they can’t use you.”

  Now it was Lauren’s turn to sigh. “You’re not going to give an inch on this, are you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then I’ll save it for another day when you’re feeling more reasonable.”

  “Hell will freeze over first.”

  He said it with a ferocity that stunned Lauren. The words sent a chill over her. In that instant, she had a terrible premonition that they were doomed before they ever really got started.

  Wade sat at the table in his kitchen, sipping on his long-neck bottle of beer, and watched the mood deteriorate right before his eyes. He had no clue why Lauren seemed to take such offense at his attitude about the rich. She seemed to be taking it personally. Surely, in her experiences in California, she had butted up against plenty of wealthy people who treated lesser mortals the way his daddy had treated his mother. Heck, the way he saw it, that place must be the capital of the egomaniacal rich.

  “Let’s shift gears for a minute,” he suggested eventually, hoping to recapture the earlier mood of easy camaraderie. “Why don’t you tell me about your life in California?”

  Rather than seizing on it as the neutral topic he’d hoped for, though, she tensed perceptibly.

  “My life in California is over. I’m back i
n Wyoming to stay,” she said, sounding every bit as defensive as he had earlier.

  “Why did you go there in the first place?”

  “I told you before—it seemed like it would be exciting,” she said.

  “And it wasn’t?”

  “It was,” she said. “For a while.”

  His gaze narrowed at her terse replies. “Why don’t you want to talk about it?”

  “Because it doesn’t matter,” she said.

  “It’s part of who you are,” he corrected.

  “The same way your father and his actions are a part of who you are. You didn’t want to talk about that, any more than I want to discuss a period of my life I’ve put behind me.”

  He studied her. There was usually only one reason a woman ran from her past, a man. “Who was he?” he asked eventually, not even sure he wanted to hear the answer.

  She regarded him blankly. “Who was who?”

  “The man who hurt you.”

  Her mouth curved in the beginnings of a smile. “What makes you think there was a man involved?”

  “When a woman’s as beautiful as you are, there usually is. Of course, usually it’s the man who winds up brokenhearted.”

  “Your mother being the exception to that rule,” she said, deliberately taunting him.

  Wade frowned. He was forced to admit that she had pegged that right. “Yes,” he said, his voice tight.

  “Well, I hate to disappoint you, but no man chased me off. I came back here because I finally figured out that this is where I belong.”

  Wade regarded her with disbelief. “Really? What led you to reach this earth-shattering conclusion?”

  “Ever since our class held its reunion a little over a year ago, I’ve been coming back to visit my friends,” she explained. “I finally realized that I’m happier here than I was in Los Angeles. It’s as simple as that.”

  She was holding something back. He could hear it in her cautious choice of words, see it in her eyes. “What aren’t you telling me, Lauren?”

  She seemed to be waging some sort of internal debate. He waited. Finally, she met his gaze evenly.