“What?” Greg asked, looking in the nearest stall. He’d cleaned these out a million times. It looked exactly as it should. Maybe better with Christie pushing herself.
“Shoulda waited.”
Greg stared at the older man. “Waited for what?” Then it occurred to him. “Christie?”
Jake grabbed out a hunk of wood from the corner, then his knife. He sat down in a rocking chair near the door, starting to carve.
“I meant to wait. I think. Hell, I don’t know.” Greg ripped off his hat and thought about chucking it. “Look, it’s been a year. Then there’s Paige, and no, that wouldn’t go anywhere, but she’s ready and anxious and a man can only do so much.”
“Time to move on.”
Greg’s mouth dropped open in confusion. “A week ago I’m supposed to wait. Now I’m supposed to move on? Old man, you should stick to silence.”
Jake’s glacial blue eyes rose slowly. They stuck to Greg in a hard and fast way. The hair stood up on Greg’s arms. Jake didn’t say a word, but he didn’t have to. Greg had stepped over the line, and Jake was giving him a few seconds to realize it and back down.
“Sorry. I just don’t know which end is up anymore. I should move on, but…” He shook his head and stared out the barn door at nothing in particular. He just didn’t want to. Christie had as good as admitted that something had happened to her. The look of fear and sadness on her face before she closed down squeezed his heart. And what Sara had said rang true—Christie hadn’t been with anyone in all the time he was close to her. Not even one date.
Maybe it wasn’t him…
His mind turned to Paige. Her willingness. Her eagerness.
But then…what if it was?
Chapter 6
Later that night, after a tough day waiting on people who couldn’t make up their minds, Christie was dressed in jeans and a hoody while contemplating something nicer. The thing was, she hadn’t brought that many nice things up here. Usually, there wasn’t any point. She got dirty, and she waitressed. Once or twice a season she went out. The end.
Dragging her lip through her teeth, she ran her fingers over another pair of jeans. They were cleaner versions of what she was wearing. In the dark, no one would even notice, and she’d still feel frumpy next to Paige.
With that thought, the woman of the hour emerged from the bathroom with hair and makeup done, wearing a smart little black dress with stilettos and carrying a patent leather clutch.
“Patent leather with those flat blacks?” Christie asked before she could stop herself.
Paige paused, quirked an eyebrow, and couldn’t hide the moment of doubt. She looked down at herself, then at her clutch. Her scowl spoke volumes—how could a poor girl like Christie, who only had hoodies and jeans, possibly know anything about fashion? Not that it mattered either way. No one in this small town would notice.
“Not going to the fire pit, I take it?” Christie asked as she pulled her hair into a ponytail.
“No. Greg is taking me out.”
Christie’s movements slowed and her stomach dropped out. “Greg?”
A knock sounded at the door. Like she was moving through molasses, Christie went to answer it. Greg stood there in black slacks and a dusty green button up that brought out the color in his eyes. Hair done up in a stylish messy, his face was clean-shaven, giving an interesting contrast that had her looking harder. His strong jaw with the small cleft chin contrasted with those full lips, pulled to the side in a cute lopsided grin that always made her smile. But it was all about those gorgeous eyes. Wide set with the lashes and eyebrows, they were so dramatic and beautiful. They delved into her, holding her hostage in a clever and intelligent gaze, while still being soft enough to make her feel easy and safe. In fact, everything about him had always made her feel easy and safe. Comfortable. She hadn’t had that a lot in her life.
How come she was only realizing this now?
Her heart ached seeing him dressed up like this, ready to show a lucky lady a great, fun time on the town.
Why hadn’t Christie said yes to a date with him? She bet he would’ve understood about the no sex rule. He was a good guy. He wouldn’t have pressured her.
His look and stance with Paige earlier in the day came back to her.
Then again…
Christie smiled, trying to hide the sadness she felt in her soul as she backed away for someone that could give Greg everything he deserved.
“Well hello, Prince Charming. Come to pass out slippers?” Christie said as she leaned against the wall, out of the way.
Greg watched her for a second, not smiling.
“What? Did I get the wrong Prince?” She threw up a hand. “Give me five.”
He looked skyward his customary grin threatening to return.
“C’mon, man, don’t leave me hanging…” She waved her hand at him.
“Ready, Greg?” Paige stepped in the way and put an arm on his bicep, which was straining his shirt.
“You need to get a bigger shirt, fatty,” Christie said as he turned to let Paige by.
“You need to get a unicycle, clown.” Greg’s grin finally broke through. He threw her a wave. “See ya.”
“Be good.” Christie watched them go before she allowed the feeling of utter disappointment to drag her down for a moment. Heat prickled her eyes, threatening tears.
She blinked and ignored the fuzzy feeling in her middle. It seeped into her, overcoming her mood and turning her outlook black.
She scoffed and wiped under her eyes. This was stupid. Despite how absolutely awful Paige was, it couldn’t go anywhere. She was only here for a season, and he lived here. There was no way she would stay—she had to get back to daddy’s ranch. And he couldn’t go—what would he do? For now, it was harmless fun.
Besides, she needed to be happy for him. Paige sucked, but maybe she was a different person to him. Maybe she rolled back her assholery and let out the person beneath, which could be a really cool cat.
Grimacing, because Christie didn’t have much hope of that being the case, she made her way to the fire pit.
A couple of hours later she was full and sitting next to Jake, staring at the fire. Around her people chatted and laughed, still no more than acquaintances but some now working on friendship. A few of the permanent employees were loitering, but they mostly, avoided the seasonal people.
“So anyway, Jake. What’s shaking?” Christie didn’t bother looking over. She wouldn’t be able to decipher his speech code anyway.
The scrap of knife on wood competed with the crackle of the fire. She glanced at her watch, found it was too dark to read it, and then looked up at the moon. “What time do you think it is?”
“Hour ’til bedtime.”
“My bedtime or yours?” She did look over this time, catching him pointing at her with his knife. “And how do you know my bedtime?”
“Routine.”
She made a duckbill with her mouth and tapped her knees with her fingers. “That is good looking out. So my bedtime is at ten, which makes it nine. I wonder if you are as good as you think you are.” She heard a huff of laughter. “Hey Noah.” Noah turned around from the other side of the fire. His face lit up. “Do you have the time?”
Noah looked at his wrist, and then fished out his phone. “Nine-o-nine.”
“Jesus.” She turned to Jake, who made no sign of being surprised. “I am impressed, Sir Jake. That is some marvelous moon time keeping.”
“He probably looked at his watch a second before you asked.” Noah said, taking a place next to Christie on the log.
Christie could make out the ghost of a smile as it crossed Jake’s lips. He didn’t look up from his carving, but he paused long enough to hold out his wrist. An old Timex wrapped around it, in league with his truck and would probably last forever.
“Sneaky devil.” Christie rested her elbows on her knees and went back to watching the flames dance. “He did know my bedtime, though.”
“Ten, right?” Noah
was looking at her.
“What is the story? Are you all stalkers?”
Noah laughed. “You’re that predictable.”
“Apparently. Well, tonight I will shock you all and go to bed early.”
Noah stood with her. “I’ll walk you back.”
“Afraid a mountain goat will try to claim me for his own?” Christie brushed off her backside. “Good night, Jake.”
Jake raised his knife. Apparently that was his “good-night.”
With Noah shadowing her steps, she waved at a couple more people and moved out of the light.
“Hey Christie, listen.”
Christie’s hackles rose and her limbs tightened up. She knew that tone, and she never had a good reason why she answered in the negative.
She opened her mouth to quickly change the subject, but he was already talking.
“Do you want to get some dinner this weekend?” Noah asked nonchalantly , as if he wouldn’t be troubled if she said no. But in reality, he would. He’d take it personality, and probably stop talking to her all together. Only Greg had stuck around. He had been rebuffed verbally a few times—as nicely as she could—and silently turned down many more. Still he hung around her, dropping his desires all together.
Until today. Today he acted on someone else.
A shock of jealousy flared through her. She snuffed it out immediately, and then paused to make sure that any residual bitterness toward Paige was washed away. Noah didn’t need that directed at him.
When she was sure she could answer softly, she said, “It is the weekend, silly! But I have to cook all the meals—or help, anyway. I doubt I’ll be able to sneak out. Thanks for asking, though.”
Noah lifted a tree branch for her. “No sweat. Maybe just hang out, then. After dinner, like this.”
The sight of the big house had never been so welcomed. She picked up the pace as she contemplated what to say to gently throw him off her trail.
“I’m usually pretty tired—terrible company.” She laughed, nearly to safety. “Although I do tend to talk more than Jake. Has he always been that quiet?”
She reached the door, a little out of breath. Turning, flashing a smile, she didn’t bother waiting for the answer. “Anyway, thanks for the walk back. See you next time!”
Not giving him time for a real good-bye, she ducked through the door and then turned on the jets, almost sprinting to her room. Sometimes guys followed her in after a moment’s contemplation, not wanting her to get away. Those were always the most awkward situations ever.
“You’d think I was a beauty queen,” Christie murmured to herself as she entered her room. Two steps and she fell, face first, onto her bed. Her face hit off something large and dull, spiraling pain across her forehead and cheek. Rolling off and rubbing the offending spot, she remembered that wasn’t her bed this season, and that Paige didn’t pick up after herself.
A square jewelry box lay on the bed taunting her. It had just kicked her ass.
Christie traipsed into the bathroom to analyze the wound. Red already covered the area just below her right eye as pain throbbed down through her jaw. Her finger moved over a small bump that would probably be much bigger anywhere else on her head.
“Great.” It would probably leave a mark, and she’d have to try and cover it up when she dealt with the guests.
Christie washed her face and changed for bed, constantly glancing over at Paige’s empty spot. The room felt too quiet. Murmurs from the jerk twins next door broke Christie’s solitude, reminding her of the previous year when she and Sara had laughed and danced around, each pushing through their own problems, but doing it together. Although, Christie didn’t really push. She just kind of stewed.
She glanced at her phone, seeing it call and text free. A glance at the bedside clock said half-past nine. He was late.
A sickening realization came to her. The goodnight text wouldn’t come. He had someone else to say goodnight to. And he could do it in person.
That horrible sinking feeling that had come so often lately filled her stomach, twisting it. She’d never really thought about it before, but now that the text was absent, she realized that she’d always looked forward to it. She’d wait to rest her head on the pillow until it came in.
Why had she never answered? Or sent him a goodnight in response?
Tears blurred her eyes.
Because she’d taken him for granted, that was why. He was the sweetest man on the planet, and she’d just taken for granted that all the little thoughtful things he did. He didn’t express that side of himself to most people. To Paige and Noah and usually even to Mike, Greg was rough and tumble. He wrangled horses, he pushed aside bulls, and he stared down the occasional wolf or mountain lion that threatened his herd or his home. He didn’t baulk, and would never say die. Calloused hands and a stack of muscle, Greg was more man than most, and loyal to an absolute fault. Whether it be a bar fight or two stray dogs fighting, he’d wade in and sort things out, danger be damned.
All that was great, but it was the man he showed at close quarters that really mattered. He treated her with velvet hands when she needed it. If she saw him after a rough night, with her eyes all puffy and her smile slow to surface, he’d stick around as long as she would permit, keeping his body close and his tone supportive. Or if she was PMSing and ready to wage war, he’d draw out the fighting words and verbally spar with her, sporting his adorable lopsided grin.
She called up a picture of that smile as she lay in the dark. His face swam into view, his eyes flashing and his masculinity shining through. The grin that tweaked his features turned him from good-looking into dashingly handsome. His eyes shone with intelligence and fire, daring her to step away from her insecurities and join him.
Uncertainty frayed her nerves, melting that picture and re-shaping it into something dangerous. Shivers of warning wracked her body as she remembered another handsome face. One with hard, brown eyes and unyielding, rough hands.
She clutched the bed sheets as a sob choked her, feeling those hands on her.
Christie sat up in a shock of panic as the door handle turned. Light spilled into the room. A heavy footstep fell, him coming again. Him wanting more.
“No!”
“What?” Paige filled the doorway with a condescending and confused expression. Only she could make that work.
“Christie?” Greg’s deep voice washed over her, stilling her tremors.
She breathed a sigh of relief and wiped the wetness from her cheeks. “Hey, guys. You’re back. How did it go?”
“You okay?” Greg asked, stepping around Paige and into the room. His eyes bored into her, solemn and unwavering.
“Yeah. Nightmare turned reality. I was dreaming of your ugly mug.” Christie gave him a grateful, relieved smile. “So? Where’d you go?”
“Thanks for a great night,” Paige said, stepping into Christie and Greg’s line of sight. She flung her arms around Greg’s neck and leaned her slinky body against him.
Christie looked away, that flare of jealousy eating into her again.
“No worries,” Greg said. “See ya.”
Christie heard the rustle of fabric and the heavy boots moving away. She glanced up in time to see Greg’s broad back right before Paige shut the door.
“I should’ve gotten a place in town.” Paige jutted out a hip and gracefully put her hand to it as she glanced around the room. “But he stays at the ranch house sometimes, so…no harm, I don’t think.” She moved further into the room while undoing her earrings. A small smile graced her lips.
“Had a good time, then?” Christie pulled her comforter up to her chin.
The smile spread across those uber full lips. She sighed in a way that transcended their differences and women as a whole. Her fingers drifted to her chest. “He is…” Her loose curls shook from side to side. “Perfect. Unbelievable.” She moved to her dresser and shook the drawer open. A silk nightie came out. “Such a gentlemen. I didn’t even have to hint for him to o
pen my car door for me. He just did it. Doors, pulling out my chair—he did things that only people in westerns do. And yet, he’s so…masculine. Ugh!” She rolled her eyes like she’d just licked a chocolate spoon, and then bounced a little.
Her clothes slid down her perfect body to the floor before she shimmied into the nightie. Almost dancing, she went into the bathroom. “I was thinking about passing the time but…” She paused and braced her hand on the sink. She leaned with her butt popped out and a toothbrush in her mouth. “He’s too good to leave behind.”
“Are you…going to stay?” Christie moved the comforter over her mouth and nose.
The sound of toothbrush against teeth filled their small room. After she spit, she leaned closer to the mirror. “Absolutely not, no. What could this town possibly have to offer me?”
“But he has a job here. He’s worked hard for it.”
Paige waved the thought away with a delicate hand. “Daddy has a million jobs. I could get Greg a ranch assistant title. He’d just have to outshine the ranch manager, which he definitely could, and take over in a few years.” She smiled at herself in the mirror. “That would be perfect.”
Christie didn’t know what to say. Greg wasn’t the vindictive type to force out a superior, but with someone as manipulative as Paige was bound to be, she could make that happen. It would be a good move for him, career-wise. Financially, too. He seemed pretty eager to make more money and buy things, so this was right up his alley. She said as much. But if Paige heard her, she made no sign.
Christie rolled toward the wall and blocked out Paige’s delighted humming. Closing her eyes, she almost didn’t recognize the vibration against her back. Turning back and awkwardly reaching under her, she closed her fingers around cool metal and glass, her phone forgotten and nearly lost to her back and the mattress. Bringing it to her face, joy lit her up like fireworks. Across the screen was: “G’night.”
A smile crawled up her face as she held the phone tightly to her chest. A tear rolled down her cheek. A moment later she sent, “Sweet dreams.”
Conquering Love Page 7
