by Wendi Darlin
Garrett’s face visibly relaxed and he restacked a perfectly straight stack of files. “We have to be careful here. Not everyone believes we run the kind of business we actually do.”
“That kind of brings me to my next apology. I’m sorry about the movie thing last night. The ranch feels so much like home, and Gavin’s so generous, it’s easy to forget that this is a business. But I know what I signed on for, and I should’ve had more respect for your privacy.”
“I’m sure you weren’t uninvited.” Garrett smoothed the back of his head. The lines in his forehead deepened again.
“Gavin’s been really good to me.” Rebecca smiled. “Probably too good, but I’m not blaming him.”
“He plays this game better than anybody.” Garrett’s eyes held hers. There was more he wasn’t saying, but she didn’t know what that might be. She shifted in her seat, uncomfortable with his stare and the stone cold reminder of how well Gavin could play the game and manipulate women into feeling something for him that he didn’t feel in return.
“About you and Gavin,” Garrett began.
“What about us?” Gavin said from the doorway.
Her heart picked up its pace. She couldn’t deny how much she liked having him around.
“I was just going to make the same suggestion to Ms. Ryder that I made to you last night,” Garrett said.
“I’ve already told you what I thought of that.” A warning flashed in his eyes.
“Thought of what?” Rebecca asked.
“Nothing,” Gavin said quickly. “Nothing you need to worry about. I’ve handled it.”
Rebecca turned to Garrett. Her brows creased in question.
“I shouldn’t have brought it up,” Garrett said.
“No, you shouldn’t have.” Color had risen in Gavin’s neck, and his tendons were more pronounced than usual.
“There’s a reason—” Garrett started.
“There’s a reason for everything around here,” Gavin snapped back at him. “I know all the reasons.” He turned to Rebecca. “Have I tried to sleep with you?”
She shook her head unable to take her eyes from him. Obviously the movie business had been more serious than she imagined. At least between Garrett and Gavin, and she knew whose side she was on.
“Are you uncomfortable with me?” Gavin continued. “Afraid that I’ll do anything beyond the boundaries of the contract you signed?”
“Not at all.” Even in this state he didn’t frighten her. As much as she knew she shouldn’t, she trusted him more than she wanted to admit. Her ability to trust him so easily was what frightened her. But that made her afraid of herself, not him.
“That’s not what I meant,” Garrett said.
“You ready?” Gavin asked Rebecca without responding to his brother’s last remark. She joined him at the door. He lifted the belt from her hand and tossed it on his desk. “I’ll bring it to you later,” he said.
* * * *
“Your days of being a doormat are over, my friend,” Clayton plopped onto the loveseat in Marge’s cabin with several sheets of ranch stationery and a pen in hand.
“I’ve never been very assertive.” She sighed and took a seat next to him.
“That’s why we’re making you this little handbook. It’ll be Marge’s Rules of Empowerment, complete with relevant footnotes and infallibly wise antidotes provided by yours truly.”
“This dog might be too old for new tricks.”
“Honey, age is a number. And that’s a totally different book. Now sit up and pay attention, Rome wasn’t built in a day.
“Rule one. Refuse to play second fiddle. If you don’t you’ll always be making the music for somebody else’s song.”
“I’m going to need some wine.” She pushed herself off the loveseat and crossed the room to the chiller.
“Rule two. Control your own destiny.” Clayton kicked his boots up on the coffee table. The pencil scratched the page as he scribbled, and Marge’s nerves kicked up a notch.
“I don’t know.” She placed two bottles on the baker’s rack and searched for the corkscrew. “People around me tend to take charge.”
“Because you let them. If you put your foot down hard enough, they’ll stop yanking you along.”
She reached for the glasses. “You want red or white?”
“None for me, thanks.”
“I refuse to drink alone, and since I’m taking charge now you’ll have a glass.”
“Sorry. No wine for the cowboys until after ten thirty.” He tapped his eraser on his knee then pointed the pencil back on the paper. “Rule three. No more unavailable men.” He laughed. “Maybe I should make myself a copy of this page. Let’s examine this. Why should we stay away from men we can’t have, and why would we want them in the first place?”
“Harold made me feel like I was somebody he needed to love even when he shouldn’t. Like I was worth more than he had to lose.” She poured Pellegrino in one glass and merlot in the other.
“Ahhh…Grasshopper! The student has surpassed the teacher. But the teacher must remind you, you’re only as valuable as the price you put on yourself.” He reached for the water she offered. “Let’s list your most stellar attributes. Give us something to gauge your worth by.” He sipped the water and set the glass on the table. “I have a feeling that once we’re done, Old, Fat and Harry won’t be able to afford you.”
* * * *
“Is that a tree fort?” Rebecca asked, staring up at a small log structure that stood a head above the ground. A pulley hung from the floor and a rope ladder led to an opening cut into the side. She circled the playhouse, craning her neck. Opposite sides had perfect Lincoln Log construction windows. “Can we go up?”
“If you don’t mind the squirrels that live in it now,” he said.
She grabbed hold of the rope ladder and climbed up. As soon as her eyes cleared the door, Rebecca stopped and looked back at Gavin, still on the ground.
“You did this?”
Lunch was spread on a thick blanket that covered the damp floor. The roof was too low for either of them to stand, and years of dirt and cobwebs had accumulated in the corners and on the window frames. She didn’t have to ask. This place was not where he entertained guests.
“You like it?” he asked.
“I love it.” She climbed the rest of the way in and hung her face over the side. “All that’s missing is you.”
“That was my line.”
“I stole it.” She smiled back at him. “And there’s something else I want to steal.”
“What’s that?
“You’ll have to come up here to find out.”
He pulled himself up and crawled in beside her. One window opened to a view of the mountains and an old silver hubcap hung from a nail on the wall. Painted on the hubcap’s smooth surface in two different hands was:
Rule #1 NO GIRLS
Rule #2 NO OTHER RULES
Rebecca laughed. “Who came up with the rules?”
“Garrett made the first one. I made the second.”
“And let me guess, you kept breaking the first one and he kept breaking the second.”
“Something like that.” All the tension from the scene in the office had completely disappeared, at least from the surface.
“This is really nice,” she said, plucking a grape off her plate. “You didn’t have to go to so much trouble.”
“It wasn’t trouble.” He opened a Diet Coke and offered it to her. “I’m just glad the squirrels didn’t run off with our food before we got back.”
As if on cue, feet scampered across the roof and Donald Duck chatter broke out in the trees overhead.
“So what did you play up here?” She sipped her drink and pictured the little boy with light blond hair and the broad grin she’d seen in the family room pictures.
“The usual. Outlaws. Cowboys and Indians.”
“Were you the cowboy or the Indian?”
“Indian.”
“You’re not goi
ng to kill me are you?” She popped another grape in her mouth and laughed at the confusion that crossed his features. “Before I came here, one of my sister’s theories was that Fantasy Ranch was a front for some serial killer’s garage.”
“What kind of serial killer goes after women who like cowboys?”
Rebecca laughed again. “Melinda’s answer: the one who always had to be the Indian.”
“Are you and your sister alike?” Gavin lay on his side and propped his head in his hand. He hadn’t eaten much. Maybe he was more upset than he was letting on. From the smile on his face, he didn’t appear to be.
“We look alike, but we’re opposites in just about every other way. Kind of like you and Garrett from what I gather.”
“Does she drive you as crazy?”
“We’re family. She’s supposed to drive me crazy, but I love her anyway.” She offered him half her turkey and vegetable wrap. “Mine must taste better than yours,” she said.
“What about your parents?” he asked, and took a bite.
“They’re great. Still married and live about half an hour from Charleston. Now that my sister’s pregnant, they’ll probably try to move even closer.”
He studied her for a couple of minutes before he asked, “Why didn’t you and Todd have children?”
“He wanted to wait until he’d gotten more established in his career.” She put the wrap down and pulled her hair back. “We had just started trying.” She paused, she hadn’t even told her family this. She and Todd were planning to surprise them. “The Lifetime Channel asked us to let them document the pregnancy because we had been part of a wedding documentary and they thought it would make a great follow-up piece for us to have a baby. A happily ever after kind of thing. I guess it’s better I didn’t get pregnant right away.” The subject was bittersweet. If they’d had children she would still have a piece of him, but their kids wouldn’t have known their father, and that was a tragedy she couldn’t wish on anyone. “Do you have any kids?” she asked.
“No.”
“Think you ever will?” With his easy manner and the patience he’d demonstrated in the lessons she’d taken from him, it wasn’t difficult to imagine Gavin would make a wonderful father.
“I think it’d be great to have kids,” he said, “if I had married the right woman. I’m not looking to do it half-ass, living under separate roofs, or waiting around for weekend visits.”
Either he’d changed a lot since he was married, or his wife had missed something that seemed incredibly easy to see. Or maybe he had cheated on her. Just a more handsome, more polished version of Scott who talked a really good game. She resisted the urge to ask him. He’d made it clear he didn’t want to talk about his marriage.
“It’s kind of hard to have the kind of family you want without even having a girlfriend,” she said. “You might want to change your attitude about dating.”
“I’m working on that. Starting tonight.” He reached over and pulled a grape from her plate.
“About tonight.” She wrinkled her nose. “I won’t exactly have to spend an hour trying to figure out what to wear.”
“Don’t worry about it. You knock me out every time I see you.” He sounded so sincere a wave of warmth flowed through her.
“We’ve still got a few hours,” she said. “Maybe my suitcase will get here.”
“You’re determined to worry about it.” He reached for her waist, his fingers gripping her through the thickness of his sweatshirt. “Is that all that’s bothering you?”
“I’m a little nervous about going out with you,” she confessed.
“Why? We’ve been together non-stop since you got here.”
“Yeah, but you just called it a ‘date.’” She leaned into his shoulder, so he couldn’t see the tears if they sprang to her eyes. She prayed they wouldn’t. “I haven’t been on a date yet.”
“It’s just dinner, hopefully at a place you’ll like and with company you won’t mind.” His voice was reassuring. He made perfect sense and it was so much better this way, going out with someone she was so comfortable with. He was like a good set of training wheels on her first bicycle.
She squeezed his side. “I’m glad it’s you I’m going out with. Any man who can make a tree fort romantic is definitely worth at least one date.” The tears didn’t come. She lay back and stared up at the log rafters. G.I. Joe hung in a parachute from one of them, a spider web stretched above him. “I like it here,” she said, slipping her hands in the pocket of her sweatshirt.
Gavin lay next to her and folded his hands beneath his head. Outside the rain started to fall again, and the squirrels scampered for cover chattering to one another. This felt real. Nothing like a game at all. And that wasn’t good. Not if she wanted to protect herself.
“Ever play five kisses?” Playing on her terms was so much easier. The games were uncomplicated, the objectives too simple to lose sight of.
He rocked his head from side to side, not meeting her eyes, giving her a pretty clear indication that elementary school party games didn’t hold much appeal anymore. Not that she should expect them to, he was a grown man obviously used to getting a lot more from women than phone sex and lip action. Silence stretched between them.
“What are the rules?” he finally said.
“I ask you a question. If you get it right, you kiss me. But not on the mouth.”
He propped himself on his elbow, studying her, obviously still uncertain. “Then what?”
“You get to ask me a question. Five questions total. Do you want to play?”
“I’m in. Ask me anything,” he said, the easiness had returned to his voice. “Preferably something I know.”
“What’s my favorite color?”
He hesitated. “Green.”
Close enough. This week it was. She’d never seen a more beautiful shade than the one that was staring at her right then, waiting for permission.
“Good guess. Where are you going to kiss me?”
He smiled and moved toward her. “Sit up and turn around.” His voice was low, reminding her again how he had sounded on the phone, the muscles between her thighs contracted. She positioned herself the way he wanted her. Her body tingled with anticipation, wanting to feel his lips, to see which part of her he wanted to taste first. He brushed her hair to one side and draped it over her shoulder.
“Did I mention how sexy you were last night?” His breath was on her ear, his fingers slipped beneath the neck of her sweatshirt, pulling it down enough to expose the curve of her shoulder. “I loved hearing your voice in the dark, imagining how you looked.” His lips were hot, barely grazing her. “How you felt.” His tongue glanced lower. “How you tasted.”
She completely lost her fleeting train of thought as his mouth came down on her shoulder. His hair brushed her face, filling her with the clean scent of his shampoo. His kiss moved up again toward her neck and the wet heat of his tongue struck a fire between her thighs.
“This isn’t the way we played in fifth grade,” she said, her voice betraying the power he had over her.
“Let’s hope I’ve learned a little more about women since then.” His laugh was low in his throat, his breath warm on her neck. “I think it’s my turn to ask a question.”
She licked her lips in anticipation and turned around to face him. He’d upped the game a notch higher than she’d planned on, but she wasn’t about to complain.
“What is dendrochronology?” he asked.
“I thought you’d want to make this easy.” She smiled at him. “Don’t you want me to kiss you?”
“I do. Very much. Now, are you going to get this one right or not?”
“The method of using tree growth rings to determine the age of wood.” Nothing screamed NERD louder than seventh grade vocabulary spouting out of a thirty-two year old woman as easily as if she’d just taken the quiz on it.
“Did I mention, it turns me on that you’re smart?” He held his arms open in invitation. “Please make t
his interesting.”
“You’d better be glad I carry a dictionary around in my head, or you wouldn’t be getting a kiss at all right now.” She took his hands in hers and trailed her fingers up his arms. “Now which part of this smokin’ hot body am I going to pick?” She leaned in until her cheek grazed his. His hand heated her waist and slid beneath her shirt to the small of her back.
“Close your eyes,” she whispered, her mouth at his ear. “I’m not wearing anything. Nothing but a smile. Do you like the feel of my skin?” His hand moved further up her back, urging her closer.
“I love the way you feel,” he breathed.
She pulled his earlobe into her mouth with her tongue. His grip on her tightened, both hands covered her back, and his breath caught in his throat. She drew the kiss out, sucking gently, reveling in his response, in knowing one of his sweet spots. She sat back on her heels and smiled. “You have a good imagination, don’t you?”
“Is that your question?” He shifted forward, ready to kiss her again.
“Not so fast,” she said. “Are you good with numbers?”
“Yeah.” His smile crept across his face. “Give me the best you’ve got.”
“When’s my birthday?” She raised her brows in a challenge.
“March twelfth.” No hesitation.
“What else do you know about me?” she asked, surprised he’d paid such close attention to her application and taken note of such a personal detail.
“Not nearly enough,” he said. “I think I’d like for you to lie down for this kiss.”
She brought her legs around and lay back on the blanket.
“Raise your arms,” he said.
She did as he instructed. He pushed the waistband of her sweatshirt above the top of her jeans, bent over her, and brought his mouth down in the valley above her hipbone. She dug her hands into his hair and squirmed beneath him. He steadied her with his hands on her hips, but didn’t stop until she’d worked herself into a lather.
“You cheated,” she gasped when he finally held his face above hers. “You can’t lift my shirt up.”
