Gone Country: Rough Riders, Book 14

by Lorelei James

  Great plan. Ben had warned him not to treat Rielle like a dirty little secret. He’d love to show her this wasn’t a fling by taking their relationship public. But she’d given him the impression she wasn’t ready for that.

  Now he had to ask a huge favor. He tracked her down and the instant he saw her, he wanted her. So he dragged her to bed.

  Afterward, being naked, tangled up with her, hearts pounding and flesh damp, he realized he didn’t want to hide this affection he felt for her. He didn’t want to hide anything from her.

  Gavin kissed the small of her back. “I could stay here all damn day, but I’ve gotta go.”

  She rolled over to face him, still modest enough that she’d pulled the sheets up to cover her breasts. “I saw your suitcases in the entryway before you carted me off to bed, tycoon.”

  “I wanted to give you a proper good morning and goodbye.”

  “Mmm. I did come two times so you got me coming and going.”

  He grinned. “Love that dirty mouth. I have to go to Arizona for business for a few days.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Possible land deal sale. Possible huge land deal sale.”

  Rielle cocked her head. “How huge? I’m not asking for a spreadsheet, but I hear you wheeling and dealing on the phone, so I’m interested how this came to pass.” She poked him in the chest. “You always ask me for explicit details about my businesses. So I want you to know I’m interested in your professional life as well.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep. Your real estate tycoon-y side formed you as a man. And since I like your man form…I want to know more.”

  He kissed her forehead. “Basically, I’ve been holding on to a chunk of land that’s worth a lot of money. There’s some confusion in my office as to why the potential client couldn’t get in touch with me. So I need to straighten out office snafus and hopefully cash a really big check.”

  “Better than six bucks apiece for plums?”

  “Let’s just say this land deal could be worth…five point eight million six dollar plums.”

  Her eyes rounded. “Wow. That’s a plum sweet deal.”

  He groaned at her pun. “Anyway, I can’t take Sierra.”

  “No problem. You go make your bajillion dollars and I’ll crack the whip on your daughter. Not that she needs it.”

  “You sure?”

  “Positive. Just bring me back a suitcase full of—”

  “Money?” he supplied.

  Rielle elbowed him in the gut as she rolled out of bed. “I’m not interested in your money, Gavin Daniels. Bring me back a suitcase full of grapefruit and oranges. They want like four bucks a pound at the grocery store and I’m too cheap to pay it.”

  He laughed.

  Fifteen minutes later he stood next to his car, saying goodbye to Rielle. “Are you sure you’ll be okay staying with Sierra?”

  “If you’re okay with me letting her throw a Halloween party and providing an open bar and condoms for her friends, then we’re good.”

  Gavin tapped Rielle on the butt. “Not funny.”

  “Relax. Vi and Charlie are getting her to and from school. She’s self-sufficient for breakfast and I cook myself supper so it’s no biggie to make extra. You’ll be gone what? Four days? She’ll be fine.”

  “I’m not asking about her. I’m asking about you.” He caressed the side of her face. “Sierra can be a pain.”

  “Are you trying to get me to change my mind?” Rielle said lightly. “Because I can.”

  “No. I feel I’m taking advantage of you, especially after you gave me the whole, just because we’re sleeping together doesn’t mean I’m helping you parent your daughter speech.”

  “I volunteered, which is different than you assuming I’ll deal with childcare in your absence.” Rielle stood on tiptoe and pecked his lips. “Go. Don’t worry.”

  Gavin kissed her longer. Hotter. Then sweeter. “For the thousandth time, thank you.”

  “For the thousandth time, you’re welcome. Now go, before you miss your flight.”

  “I’ll see you Friday.” After Gavin climbed in his car and buckled up, Rielle tapped on the window.

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t get sunburned.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  November…

  The first three days with Sierra were almost too easy. She came home from school and retreated to her room until supper. She wasn’t surly, just preoccupied with a school project.

  So after Charlie dropped Sierra off Thursday, Rielle was surprised when she hung around the kitchen. In Rielle’s experience with teens, that meant Sierra had something on her mind.

  No reason you can’t listen.

  Sierra rested her chin on her hand. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but it’s cool that you know how to do so many things most people don’t.”

  “How could I take that the wrong way?” Rielle asked, stirring the bundle of raw wool soaking in beet juice.

  “Because my mom was almost…proud of being helpless. She couldn’t cook, she couldn’t sew, she couldn’t garden. She hired this Mexican woman and paid her cash to clean her house and wash her clothes.”

  Rielle couldn’t fathom that type of lifestyle. “What did your mother do all day?”

  Sierra shrugged. “I’m pretty sure she went back to bed after she dropped me off at school. She watched TV or went shopping or to the salon or out to lunch with her friends or was at the beck and call of whatever boyfriend she had at the time.”

  Before Rielle asked specifics, Sierra said, “So I bet Rory can do all sorts of cool life skill stuff like that, huh?” She pointed to the various jars of dye that held small bunches of yarn Rielle had opted to dip-dye.

  “I taught her how to cook, bake, garden, raise various things for food and how to make things to sell, if that’s what you mean. Does she do any of it now? Very little.”

  That surprised her. “Why not?”

  “She’s busy in grad school and her landlord frowns on her keeping bees, chickens and goats in her apartment.”

  Sierra snickered.

  “I’d like to think she’ll get back to utilizing some of the skills she learned growing up, but I won’t be upset if she decides homespun activities don’t work for her. Heaven knows I don’t do all the things my mom used to.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like raising chickens. I miss the fresh meat, but I hated butchering. And I never liked gathering eggs because chickens can be nasty creatures. At the time, selling organic eggs wasn’t profitable. I didn’t replace our dairy cow after Rory developed a milk allergy. I never sold any milk products; it was strictly for our own use anyway. As much as I like goats, I don’t keep them, either for their angora or their milk. I love goat cheese, but goat milking is one of my least favorite things to do.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “I’ve never milked anything.”

  Rielle twisted the wet bundle until the water ran clear. “It’s not fun. My mom used to make goat cheese, but Chassie Glanzer has a thriving business with excellent milk and cheese so I support her. Also, my mom handcrafted soap, but with Sky Blue creating unique products from natural ingredients, I’d rather buy from them than make anything myself.”

  “That’s my dad’s business philosophy too. No reason to compete with a business that’s providing a service better than you can offer.”

  “Smart man, your father.”

  “Yes, but if you tell him I said that or that I was quoting him, I’ll deny it,” she said with a grin. “He lives to explain things; in other words…lecture.”

  Rielle laughed. “You sound like Rory.”

  “Selling all of this—” she gestured to the piles of fiber, “—is how you get paid?”

  “Yep. I chose to make my living this way, in spite of some people believing being self-sufficient with self-sustaining products is an outdated concept. It’s hard work and I know I’ll never get rich. Growing up, Rory had to pitch in. If we didn’t get a good harvest
—whether it was veggies, fruit, honey—then we’d have a lean winter, finance-wise and food-wise.”

  “But you got to spend time together.”

  “True. It wasn’t all work. We had fun too.” Probably not the type of fun Sierra knew—shopping, mani-pedis, spa treatments and fancy luncheons.

  Stop assuming and ask her. The admiring way she talks about her father makes it obvious her mother isn’t the only one who influenced her life.

  “What about you? What did you do for fun?”

  Sierra pressed her finger into the poppy seeds on her plate, left over from her lemon poppy seed muffin. “When I stayed with my mom, we did what she wanted. Sometimes she’d let me choose.”

  “And when you were with your dad?”

  “My dad worked a lot. But when he came home, he didn’t flop on the couch and ignore me like a lot of my friends’ dads did. He’s a sports guy, but he taped all the games so we could do stuff together. Some fun, some that was supposed to teach me a lesson. Dad was big on learning life lessons.”

  That remark piqued Rielle’s curiosity because Gavin had stuck to his guns with not letting Sierra drive until he felt she was ready. “Like what?”

  “When I was ten I begged for a puppy and he kept saying no. Finally after a year, he said if I proved to him that I could be responsible with an animal, he’d let me have a pet.”

  “What did you have to do?”

  “Volunteer at the animal shelter for two months. I learned to take care of all kinds of dogs and cats. I scrubbed cages. Emptied litter boxes. Helped with flea baths and combed matted fur. I fed the animals and filled water bowls and cleaned up after them. I saw what an abused and neglected animal looked like and acted like. It was so freakin’ sad.”

  Not the type of parenting reaction she’d expected from Gavin; Rielle thought he would’ve given his daughter anything without restriction. “Did you end up getting a puppy?”

  Sierra shook her head. “Learning all that changed my mind. Especially when my dad said I’d have to take my dog everywhere with me, even to friends’ sleepovers, because he had a life that didn’t entail babysitting my pet. Of course, my mom offered to buy me any kind of puppy I wanted, mostly to piss my dad off.”

  That behavior wasn’t shocking after what Rielle had learned about Gavin’s ex-wife. “Well, for never having a dog of your own, Sadie is sure taken with you.”

  “Probably because she misses Rory, huh?”

  “Nope. I got Sadie after Rory went to college, so she’s pretty much my dog.”

  “I thought my dad said you had, like, a pack of dogs?”

  Rielle transferred the dyed fiber from the pint-sized glass jars into individual plastic grocery bags. “That was true the first time he stayed here. We had three dogs. Spuds died last year. Rory’s dog, Jingle, is around if she is. I take care of Ben’s dogs, Ace and Deuce, whenever he and Ainsley go out of town. So maybe that is a pack.”

  Sierra watched her tying off the plastic bags. “Now what do you do with that?”

  “Heat it in the microwave to set the dye.” She set two bags in the microwave and set the timer. “Then it cools, I rinse it, spin out the excess water and hang to dry. The immersion batches on the stove are left to cool to room temp. Then I rinse it, spin out the excess water and hang to dry. Sense a theme?” She pointed to the piles of raw, combed wool. “That is called wool roving. Sometimes I dye it whole, or tie it off and tie-dye it. But this batch I’m hand painting. It’s a messy process and I like to use several different colors. The dyed fiber looks weird, but once I spin it into yarn, it is amazing. I can’t keep it in stock and I have ten batches to finish.”

  “Where do you sell it?”

  “I’ve been working with several stores over the years who know my quality is good and I’m not afraid to experiment with different fibers, so that keeps me in a higher paying niche market. I also sell directly to experienced knitters I’ve met over the years. I supply all sorts of different spun and dyed fibers to a woman who knits projects specifically for publication in how-to books. It’s cool to see the patterns she creates from the yarn I’ve hand-dyed and spun.”

  Sierra peered in the pot. “That’s a really pretty color. It would be so awesome to wear something you’ve made.”

  “I’ve got so much of this burgundy hue; I’ll keep some and work on a project over the winter.”

  “Could you teach me how to knit?” Sierra blurted. “I know you’re busy, but if you’re just sitting by the fire some night, maybe I could watch you and take notes?”

  Rielle was absurdly touched by the request. Sometimes when she looked at Sierra she saw a privileged, world-weary teen. But other times, like now, she saw a sweet girl who was eager to learn something out of the norm because it interested her. “I’d be happy to teach you.”

  “Really? Cool!”

  “Vi won’t get upset? I know she likes to do crafty type activities with you.”

  Sierra shook her head. “Grams crochets, just like my other grandma did. It doesn’t interest me because you can knit much cooler things.”

  “Okay. I’ve still got a pair of beginner’s knitting needles around someplace.”

  “Yay!”

  Rielle took the bags out of the microwave, checked to see if all the dye had been absorbed and set the bags on the cooling rack. Then she put in the next two bags and set the microwave timer.

  “Now I know you’re big on the barter system, so you have to let me teach you to do something.”

  “Sierra, that’s sweet, but not necessary.”

  “Fair’s fair. And there’s one thing I’m good at, because I’ve been doing it since I could hold a brush.”

  Please. God. No.

  “I’ll give you a makeover!” Sierra jumped off the barstool. “This is gonna be so awesome!”

  Shit. “Well, I need to finish setting the dye in the last two batches. And clean up.”

  “It’ll take me ten minutes to get my stuff together anyway. Then I’ll meet you in your bathroom.”

  The enthusiastic teen was through the swinging door before Rielle could reply. How did she tell Sierra she wasn’t interested in a makeover?

  She couldn’t. She’d always considered herself lucky that Rory hadn’t forced her love of all that girly stuff on her. Although…Rielle could admit her new hairstyle had made a world of difference in how she viewed herself.

  What did she have to lose except for a few hours? Nothing.

  But she poured herself a big whiskey Coke anyway before she wandered down the hallway.

  Sierra had already set up in Rielle’s bathroom. She pointed to the toilet. “Sit. Get comfy.”

  Rielle sat, drink in hand.

  “Where is your makeup?”

  “Drawer on the right. There’s not much.”

  Sierra cleaned Rielle’s face with a warm cloth, which was really weird. She asked questions about Rielle’s skincare regimen, which consisted of washing her face with Ivory soap and moisturizing with Lubriderm lotion.

  Surprisingly, that didn’t earn a heavy sigh like it would’ve from Rory.

  Rielle kept her eyes closed and took the occasional sip of her drink as Sierra discussed skin tones, the best way to mask her under eye circles and cultivate the natural look. Which prompted her to ask, “So not wearing any makeup isn’t an acceptable natural look?”

  “It’s fine when you’re working outside, as long as you’re wearing skin protection with at least thirty SPF.” She smeared something beneath Rielle’s eye. “But you don’t want to look like you just whipped off your gloves and sun hat when you go to town, do you?”

  That’s exactly what Rielle had always done. So she deflected. If Sierra was anything like Rory, she’d love to talk about boys. “I haven’t heard you mention any cute guys at your school.”

  “I try to avoid talking about guys around my dad. He gets a little uptight and lecture-y about it.”

  “Your dad isn’t here. Since you’re avoiding my question, is there so
me guy you’re interested in?”

  Sierra sighed. “There’s one guy. He’s nice and funny and bossy and kind of quirky. I see him at the library or around school and we talk and stuff. But he’s made it clear that he just wants to be pals.”

  “Huh.” Rielle stayed still as Sierra’s fingers dotted something cool on her cheeks, nose and forehead and gently smoothed it in. “Doesn’t the new girl catch guys’ interest?”

  “Two guys offered to break up with their girlfriends to go out with me. But I don’t need any more crap from the girls at school.”

  Rielle opened her eyes and looked at Sierra. “Are you having a hard time and can’t talk to your dad about it?”

  “No. Close your eyes. Well, I mean yes. Girls at school aren’t mean, they just ignore me. Marin is fun and we have a great time together, but now she’s got a boyfriend. Two other girls ask me to do stuff, but they both drive and I feel like a…loser because they’d have to pick me up and bring me home. I’m thinking about asking my dad if I could be home schooled.”

  Her eyes flew open. “God, no, Sierra, don’t do that. Home schooling sucks. Trust me. My parents didn’t give me a choice. And if you think it’s tough not being able to drive, imagine how much harder it’d be if you didn’t see anyone but your dad, me and your grandparents.”

  “Keep your eyes closed,” Sierra reminded her. “You didn’t consider home schooling Rory?”

  “Not for a single second. I won’t say her school years were easy, especially not after she started middle school and hit the six-foot-one mark, making her taller than all the girls in her class and most of the boys. But she had a couple of good friends, she earned the highest GPA in her graduating class and she’s socially well-adjusted. Without making generalizations—because I know what that’s like—home schooled kids are awkward in normal society.”

  “You’re not awkward and you were home schooled,” she pointed out.

  “Really? You sure? I can’t even put on my own damn makeup.”

  Sierra snickered.

  “I’m also forty. An old forty.” Sierra dragged something wet close to her lash line and Rielle flinched.

  “Hold still. Geez. I’m not gonna jab you in the eye unless you do that again.”