She did her best to put on a cheery smile. “I cooked a roast and vegetables for Holt, but he can’t come tonight. I thought you two might want to share it.”
Ollie’s face suddenly appeared over Sol’s shoulder. “That’s nice of you to think of us, Isabelle. And it sure smells good. You want to come in and eat with us?”
Handing the box to Sol, she said, “Thanks, but I’ve already eaten and I have some chores in the house to finish before bedtime. You two enjoy it.” She started to leave, then on second thought turned back before the men had a chance to shut the door. “Uh, I forgot to mention it earlier this evening, but if you two would like the day off tomorrow to go to Gold Rush Days, it’s okay with me.”
Sol’s solemn face brightened considerably. “Thanks, Isabelle. Are you going to go? Me and Ollie might get in the parade. You could watch us ride down the street.”
Ollie elbowed him in the ribs. “Goofy, she sees us on horseback every day. She might want do something else. Like go to the carnival.”
Any other time, Isabelle would be laughing at the two men. But tonight she could hardly keep her voice from wobbling. “No. I won’t be going to town. I have something else to do,” she told them. Something she should have done from the very first day she’d met Holt Hollister.
* * *
Back in the house, she sat down at the kitchen table and picked up her phone. Gabby had been ringing her earlier, but she’d been outside helping finish the evening chores. After that, she’d gotten busy with supper, until she’d gotten Holt’s inauspicious call.
Now, as she punched her mother’s number, Isabelle wondered what she was going to tell her. What could she tell her? That she was happy? That everything was wonderful? Three days ago, she’d thought everything was great. In fact, the intensity with which Holt had made love to her had almost made her believe he was really beginning to care for her. Perhaps even falling in love with her.
But now her eyes were wide-open. And they were filled with stupid, useless tears.
“Hello, Issy! I gave up on you calling back. I was about to step into the shower.”
“Sorry, Mom. Go ahead with your shower. I’ll catch you later.”
“No! I’m already wrapped up in my bathrobe and taken a comfy seat on the end of the bed. I just wanted to see how things are going and if you’d taken time to call your father.”
Isabelle tried to swallow the lump around her throat. Her mother had lived without a loving husband for more than twenty years and she was happy. Isabelle could be happy, too. Just as soon as she got Holt out of her system.
“I called Dad yesterday. He sounded good, but like he was on another planet, as usual. He’s been working on some new arrangements,” Isabelle explained. “You know how preoccupied he gets.”
Gabby laughed knowingly. “Why do you think I’m living alone? Bless his heart, he can’t help himself.”
Just like Holt couldn’t help his fascination for horses and women, she thought sadly. In the very plural sense.
“So how are you and your rancher friend getting on? Holt? Isn’t that his name?”
“Forget his name, Mom.” Isabelle’s throat was so tight she could scarcely speak. “Because I’m definitely going to forget him!”
Gabby went silent for a long stretch. Then she said, “Okay. What’s wrong?”
Isabelle explained how she and Holt had been seeing each other on a regular basis until the past three days. Then she went on to relate everything she’d overhead Ollie and Sol discussing.
“Oh, Issy, you’re being unreasonable and unfair. You can’t make that sort of snap judgment just because your ranch hands think Holt is the wrong man for you. That’s crazy thinking!”
“Yes, it would be. But Ollie and Sol know Holt just as well as anyone. They’ve worked around him for years.”
“Yes, but people change, darling. Now that Holt has been dating you, he might be thinking differently.”
“When I first mentioned Holt you didn’t approve of me seeing another wealthy man, Remember?” Isabelle asked pointedly.
“That’s because I spoke before I thought,” Gabby said. “Having money or several girlfriends in his past doesn’t make him a bad person. Nor does it mean he’s the wrong man for you.”
Her mother had always had a Pollyanna sort of view on everyone and everything. Isabelle sometimes wished she could be more like Gabby. But where Holt was concerned, she had too much of a realistic streak in her to believe he was a changed man.
“Oh, Mom,” she said in a choked voice. “This misery is all self-inflicted. I knew all about Holt before I ever agreed to date him. I kept warning myself, but I couldn’t resist him. And now I have to own up to the fact that I’ve made another mistake with a man.”
“You’ve fallen in love with him, haven’t you? I can hear it in your voice. I can hear the tears. Oh, Issy, I think—well, I can step away from the art exhibit for a weekend. I’m going to catch a flight up there!”
“No! No! And no! You’ve been waiting years for a break like this. You’re not going to mess up the exhibit because of me. I’ll be fine, Mom. Really.”
Gabby was slow about replying and when she finally did, Isabelle was relieved that she sounded reassured.
“All right, honey, if that’s the way you want it.”
“I do. Now I need to get off the phone. I have laundry to do.”
She told her mother goodbye, then hung up and promptly burst into tears.
* * *
Early the next morning, Holt was sitting at his desk, trying to sift through a list of hay suppliers, but Isabelle’s voice kept drifting through his mind and getting in the way.
To grow my own hay would be a big savings. Especially when my herd gets a lot larger.
She was always so animated when she talked about Blue Stallion. She loved the land and the horses with equal passion. But what about Holt? In lots of ways, she’d showed him that she cared about him. But she’d never said the word love to him, or even hinted that she might be falling in love with him.
But you’ve felt it in her kiss, Holt. You’ve felt it every time she puts her arms around you. Each time she welcomes you into her bed. That’s why you’ve been finding excuse after excuse to avoid seeing her. You’re afraid that you’re falling for her, too. And you don’t know how to stop it. Other than stop seeing her completely.
To hell with that, he silently shouted back at the arguing voice in his head. He wasn’t going to stop seeing Isabelle. She was the only thing that made his life seem worthwhile.
Shaking his head, he tried to refocus his attention on the list in front of him. Burl Iverson, Kern County, California; Walter Williamson, Churchill County, Nevada; Renaldo Ruis, Fresno County, California. The list continued, but Holt’s attention was drawn away once again as he caught the sound of a woman’s voice just outside the door.
Dear God, he was beginning to hear Isabelle’s voice everywhere.
“Thank you, Matthew. You’re very kind.”
That was her voice! She hadn’t said anything about coming here to see him. And at this early hour!
He jumped to his feet just as she was stepping through the open doorway. Her usual smile was nowhere to be seen. In fact, she looked drawn and peaked.
“Isabelle! What are you doing here?”
She carefully shut the door behind her, then walked over and took a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk.
Not bothering with a greeting, she said, “Don’t worry. I’m not here to ask you to introduce me to your family. I’ll be gone before they ever know I’m here.”
The bitter tone in her voice knocked him off-kilter for a moment. “I’m not sure what that is supposed to mean. But you meeting my family isn’t worrying me.”
“I’m sure it isn’t. Why would it?”
“I don’t know. Why would it?” he repeate
d inanely.
She crossed her legs and tapped the air with the toe of her cowboy boot. This morning she was wearing a pair the color of butterscotch. Tiny metal studs covered the tops and the slanted heels, and he didn’t have to be told they cost a fortune. Clearly she wasn’t here to walk through the horse paddock, he thought wryly.
“Why would you worry about something you never intended to do in the first place?” she asked, then shook her head. “Sorry, Holt, I’m going at this all wrong. I didn’t come here this morning to be curt or tacky. I wanted to be nice about all this. That’s the way two people who’ve shared the same bed should be to each other, wouldn’t you say?”
“Nice. Naturally, I would.” He walked around the desk and looked down at her. “I’m not yet sure what this visit is about, but I’m glad to see you.”
She swallowed hard and as he watched her features tighten, he realized something was very off with her. This wasn’t the Isabelle he knew, the Isabelle he’d spent hours with, the one who made him feel as if he was the only man in the world.
“Are you?” she countered.
“Look, Isabelle, if you’re angry because I’ve not been over—” He broke off as she began to shake her head.
“I’m not angry,” she said. “I understand you have more work on your shoulders than any one man should have.”
Folding his arms across his chest, he said in a slow, inviting voice, “Okay, so if you’re not angry, then why aren’t you kissing me? Why aren’t you telling me how much you’ve missed seeing me?”
Her sigh was weary. “Because I’m not going to kiss you anymore. I’m not going to see you anymore. Period.”
Her words were like a punch in the jaw and he reached backward to clamp a steadying hand around the edge of the desk. “Isabelle, I’m well aware that you like to tease, but this isn’t amusing. Frankly, I don’t like it.”
Her head dropped and Holt was faced with the shiny crown of her blond hair. The other night when she’d talked about finding gold nuggets, he could have told her he’d found his treasure when she’d come into his life. But he’d kept the thought to himself. He didn’t dare utter anything she might take to heart. That was the way a man like him had to be.
“I’m not teasing, Holt. Whatever we had between us is over.”
“Who says? You? Isn’t that a one-sided decision?”
She looked up at him and Holt was shaken by the emptiness he saw in her blue eyes.
“Probably,” she answered. “But I’m sure you’ve made more than your share of those one-sided decisions before. You understand the drill.”
He frowned with confusion. “I’ll tell you one thing I don’t understand—this—you! Do you think I’ve been seeing another woman? Is that what this is about?”
“I don’t think you’re seeing other women. Not now, but you will soon.” Shaking her head, she stood up and stepped close enough to place her hand on his arm. “Holt, it’s become clear to me that the two of us are headed nowhere. At first I told myself that didn’t matter. But I can’t keep fooling myself. It does matter. All those evenings I waited and watched for you to come to Blue Stallion, I asked myself why I was devoting so much time and emotion. Just to have you in my bed? That’s not enough, Holt. And it’s my fault for ever thinking it could be.”
The anger that poured through him was far more potent than a double shot of Sam’s bourbon. He wanted to ram his fist into the wall. At least he could think about the pain in his hand, instead of the one that was boring a hole in the middle of his chest.
“Oh, this is perfect, Isabelle. This coming from a woman who insisted she didn’t want strings between us. Now you’re whining because there are no strings.”
Her nostrils flared as two red spots appeared on her cheeks. Dear God, she was so beautiful, he thought, so perfect. What was he doing? Had he lost his mind?
No. He was hanging by his fingernails, he thought. He was desperately trying to hold on to his life the way he’d always lived it. The only way he could live it. Without fences or restraints.
“I’m not whining, Holt. I’m walking out. Because I can see the future that I’m dreaming of is nothing like the one in your mind.”
He sneered. “Oh, that’s right. I keep forgetting you were born to a couple of dreamers. And you have to be just like them—always carrying around a fantasy. What is it now? Rainbows and unicorns? A fairy tale where some prince appears and makes everything perfect for you? Well, I don’t want a dreamer. I want a real flesh-and-blood woman!”
Her teeth snapped together. “Good! Because I don’t want a man like you! You’re just like Trevor—incapable of giving your heart—your love. And as far as I’m concerned, you can go find yourself a real flesh-and-blood woman. Gold Rush Days has Wickenburg brimming over with people. Today would be the perfect time for you to start looking for one!”
She turned to walk away and he instinctively reached out and caught her forearm. “You’re wrong, Isabelle.”
Her blue eyes darkened with shadows. “I only wish I were,” she said soberly, then quickly added, “Don’t worry about your brown mares. I’ll have Ollie and Sol bring them to you.”
The brown mares. The mares he’d wanted for her and only her. He felt sick to his stomach.
“I don’t want the mares! Keep them!”
She pulled her arm from his grasp. “I don’t want anything that doesn’t belong to me.”
There was nothing for him to do now but to watch her walk out the door. But even after she was gone, her soft scent lingered about him, her cutting words continued to wound him.
Holt was still standing in the same spot, trying to compose his fractured emotions, when Blake knocked on the door frame and stepped into the room.
“Was that Isabelle I just saw driving off?”
Holt shoved out a heavy breath and managed to walk around to the back of the desk. As he sank limply into the executive chair, he said, “Yeah. That was her.”
Blake poured himself a cup of coffee and took a seat. “Why didn’t she hang around? You know how much Mom has been wanting to meet her.”
Avoiding the truth would be pointless now, Holt thought miserably. He cleared his throat, but his voice still sounded like he’d been eating chicken scratch. “Mom might as well know that meeting Isabelle isn’t going to happen. She just dumped me.”
Blake’s jaw dropped. “Is this one of your jokes?”
Holt was suddenly furious at himself and the waste of it all. He’d been stupid to attempt to have anything remotely close to a long-term relationship with a woman. Or to think he could ever have what his brothers had with their wives. “No! It isn’t anything to joke about, Blake.”
Over the rim of his coffee cup, Blake carefully studied Holt’s mutinous face. “Well, well. A woman has finally dumped my little brother. How does it feel?” he asked, then barked out a short laugh. “Forget I asked. Whether you did the dumping or she did, you must be feeling damned relieved.”
Holt wasn’t relieved. He was angry and sick and crushed. Most of all, he was afraid. Scared to even think of the coming days without Isabelle.
Rising from the chair, Holt tugged on his jacket and plopped his hat onto his head. “As much as I appreciate this brotherly visit, I have things to do,” he muttered.
Blake frowned at him. “Go ahead. Run off. But before you do, I’ll tell you straight out, I’m glad Isabelle put an end to this.”
Holt pierced him with a steely look. “Can you explain that?”
“Easily. You’re not equipped to handle a woman like her. And I don’t want to see you unhappy.”
Blood was suddenly boiling beneath Holt’s skull. “You do manage Three Rivers, Blake, but that doesn’t mean you manage my life,” he practically shouted. “And while we’re at it, I’ll tell you something. If it turns out that our father was a cheating bastard, then our sisters are going
to know about it! You and Chandler and Joe might think you know what’s best for everybody else, but I have a say in this, too!”
“Holt! What—”
Holt didn’t stay around to hear more. He stalked out of the office and didn’t stop until he reached the mares’ paddock. But even though he was a quarter mile away from Blake’s know-it-all advice, he found no relief from the anger and pain inside him. The sight of the mares milling around in the small pasture only made it worse.
If Ollie and Sol showed up with the brown mares, he’d send the men right back to Blue Stallion Ranch with their load. The mares were a symbol of the day he’d spent with Isabelle in Tucson and the night they’d first made love. The horses were meant to be on Blue Stallion—with Isabelle.
And him? Well, he was going to get out his little black book and find a woman who’d make him forget.
* * *
Nearly two weeks later, on Friday evening, Holt was sitting in the den, having a drink with Chandler. A half hour from now, he needed to head to town, where he was meeting his tenth different date in as many nights. He wasn’t looking forward to it. Hell, he’d rather pull out his back molars with a pair of fencing plyers than to go pretend he was having a good time. Pretending that the woman sitting across from him was piquing his interest mentally, or sexually.
So why are you doing this, Holt? Why do you keep going through this long list of ladies, when you know none of them are going to wipe Isabelle from your mind? She’s burned into your brain and no matter what you do, she’s going to remain there.
The mimicking voice in his head was like a propaganda message being shouted repeatedly over a megaphone. And if it didn’t stop soon, he was going to go crazy, Holt thought.
“Well, look who’s here! Our beautiful sister,” Chandler said, suddenly breaking into Holt’s miserable ponderings.
Holt looked around to see Vivian strolling into the den. Since she was still wearing her ranger uniform, it was obvious she’d driven straight here to Three Rivers from her job at Lake Pleasant. He couldn’t imagine what she was doing here, but he was more than pleased to see her.
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