by Nora Roberts
Then he just stood there a moment, eyes on hers, fingers lightly rubbing her skin.
“Riding’s out.” He vaulted over the fence. “But we can take a walk.”
“I haven’t even gone in to say hello to your mother.”
“Couple of minutes.”
With her hand in his, the sun warm on her face, she walked with him.
She heard a cow lowing off in a field, and a chittering she knew came from some busy squirrel. And through an open kitchen window came laughter.
“You’ve put pansies in.” She paused a moment, looking at the pots on the back porch steps. “My grandmother always put pansies in early, in the window box outside the kitchen window. She said they made her smile while she did dishes. Made her happy spring was coming around again.”
“I didn’t think you’d stay through the winter.”
Genuinely surprised, she stared up at him. “Why?”
“I figure now it was my problem more than yours.” He drew her around the front side of the house, and to the bench between the ginkgo trees. “I thought, just look at her, she’ll run back to New York after her first Montana blizzard. But you didn’t.”
“You really saw me as that…” What was the word he’d used for Alice? Spine. “That spineless?”
“No. That was mostly me, and it wasn’t my spine I was worried about. Can we sit a minute? I feel like I’ve got to finish this out.”
“Yeah, maybe you should.”
“Jessica. I’d say I saw you as this exotic bird. So pretty it hurt my eyes, and just out of my reach. Apt to fly off.”
“Exotic bird, my butt. I’ve worked all my life, and worked hard. I—”
“More about me than you,” he reminded her. “The first time I saw you, you were wearing a red suit, and your hair was coiled up, and you smelled like something mysterious blooming in a hothouse. You shook my hand, and said: ‘Jessica Baazov, it’s nice to meet you.’ I could barely get my tongue to work. And all I could think was I hope like hell Bo doesn’t hire this one.”
“Well. That’s nice to know.”
He just put a hand heavy on her shoulder when she started to get up. “I told her it was a mistake when she did, and I’ve come around to seeing that was a lot more about me than you.”
In a defensive gesture, she folded her arms under her breasts. “If you’d taken such an instant dislike to me, I’m surprised you didn’t put a lot more pressure on Bodine.”
“It wasn’t dislike, and pressuring Bodine when her mind’s made up’s a waste of time. Taking your time’s not wasting it.”
And he took his time now.
“I thought it was a mistake, believed it was because I didn’t see you staying. So pretty, so polished, I didn’t see how you’d fit in. And since I was damn near struck deaf, dumb, and blind the first time I saw you in that red suit, it didn’t bode well for me. I figured to keep my distance until Bo came home and said how I was right and you were leaving.”
“Apparently you’ve been disappointed there.”
“No, just wrong. I kept my distance as best I could because every time I saw you I wanted to touch you. And I knew if I touched you I’d want more. I knew when you left—even keeping my distance—I’d think of you. I wasn’t going to cross that line. Then, well, I did.”
She audibly sniffed, but softened. “I yanked you across that line.”
“I was working my way across. It would’ve taken me longer, but I was working my way across. Then I knew, if you left I wouldn’t just think of you. I’d never get over you. Any woman who came along after, I would put up against you—and she’d never measure up. She wouldn’t have your face, or be as smart as you, have your grit under all that polish. There’d be nobody else.”
He tugged her hand into his, studied it. “And I want a woman, and a family, a life we can grow into. I don’t mind waiting for it, but without you, I’d wait forever.”
“I … I watched Tombstone. I can ride a horse. I have a Stetson.”
His lips curved as he pressed them to her fist. “I love you. I think I loved you before any of those things were true if love can hit that fast. I love knowing they’re true now. I feel settled knowing you’re happy here.”
“I am happy here. There’s nothing for me back in New York. I’ve built my life here. Friends, work, a life. I lost my family, Chase, when I lost my grandparents. And I’ve made a family here when I never thought to have one again. I’ve never had a friend like Bodine, and now Chelsea. And … everyone.”
“I’m asking if you’d think about building onto that with me. If you could come to love me enough for that. For making a life and a family with me.”
Marriage, good God, he was talking about marriage. The fast leap from a slow-moving man left her dumbfounded.
Sitting very still, barely breathing, she thought of her parents on one side. Selfish, careless, cold, abandoning her without a second thought. Then her grandparents. Kind, loving, giving, enfolding her into their lives without a second thought.
Then she thought of him.
“I don’t know how I could love somebody so stupid he can’t see I already love him more than enough already. But apparently I do.”
Now he held her hand to his cheek, just held it there, before turning his head, pressing his lips into her palm. “Is that a fancy way of saying yes?”
“It wasn’t fancy.”
“It was a lot of words. How about I put it another way? Will you marry me sometime?”
“‘Sometime’ is pretty open-ended.”
“You say yes. You say when.”
“Give me a second.” She looked out, over the land, to the mountains, to the sky that spread blue over everything. She felt him waiting, so steady and strong in his silence. She trusted him to wait until her head caught up with her heart.
“I say yes. I say October. After my first summer, before my next winter.” Again, she laid a hand on his cheek. “And saying yes, Chase, just saying yes, fills up little spaces in me I didn’t know needed to be filled. You did that. You helped fill those little empty spaces.”
He kissed her, sweet as a promise, held her close.
“You still got that red suit?”
“I’m not getting married in that red suit.”
“I was thinking more of the honeymoon.”
She laughed. Steady and strong, she thought again. And often surprising. “I’ve still got it.”
* * *
While at the Bodine Ranch Sunday dinner turned into a celebration, the man known as Sir bumped his truck along the narrow road where winter had carved pits and shallow ditches. Every jolt rammed through his body.
He stopped, climbed out to unlock the gate posted with No Trespassing signs. The old metal shrieked as he shoved it open. He climbed back into the truck, drove through across the old cattle gate, got out again, dragged the gate closed, locked it, chained it.
A coughing fit seized him until he had to brace himself on the gate. He coughed up and spat out phlegm, caught his breath, then climbed back into the truck to jolt and bump his way back to the cabin.
Since he had to stop and rest often, it took him an hour to unload the supplies. He downed medicine first, the cough suppressant, the headache pills—he always seemed to have a headache these days—the decongestant, mixing them together in a kind of medicinal cocktail, downing them with the whisky-laced coffee he considered another element of his cure.
He’d picked up a meal, ate the two cheeseburgers slowly and without real appetite. He needed meat, good red meat, and forced it down bite by bite.
Breathing, wheezing, and whistling, he fell asleep in the chair in front of the fire as the sweat slicking his skin went cold. He woke in the dark.
Cursing, he lit the oil lamps, got the fire going again.
He spent too much time sleeping, and needed to spend more planning.
He’d driven all the way to Missoula and back, proving to himself he was recovering from the damn plague Esther had cursed him wi
th. He’d gotten medicine and supplies, even managed some scouting around.
He’d seen plenty of women. Women showing their bare legs, women with their breasts rising up under low tops. Their faces painted.
He’d thought one or two of them might suit him, might make a good wife once he broke them. But he lacked the strength—as yet—to take one.
So he’d take the medicine, eat red meat, and get his strength back. When he had, he’d hunt the back roads, haunt the dark places outside the dens of sin. The bars and cheap motels.
The right one would come along. God would provide.
Not another like Esther. Or the one he’d christened Miriam, who’d managed to hang herself with her bedsheet weeks after delivering a girl child.
Or Judith or Beryl.
He’d buried them all, all but Esther. Given them Christian burials, though they’d been sinners. Been disappointments.
He had to find another quickly. A strong, young, fertile woman, one who could be trained to obey. And to tend to him, as his illness had shown him he was no longer young.
He needed sons to carry on his legacy, to honor him as he aged. And he needed the woman to provide them.
The tourists would come soon—those parasites—they’d come, as would those needed to make their meals, make their beds. As he drifted to sleep again, he thought the coming weeks would offer opportunities.
* * *
Callen would rather have ridden horseback to work, and he sure as hell would rather have ridden Sundown. Since neither made a spot on the plate, he rode shotgun in Bodine’s truck.
“I could’ve come in with Rory.”
She spared him a glance. “Something wrong with my driving, Skinner?”
“I’d rather be behind the wheel.”
“Take what you get.” But she glanced again. “What’s bothering you? The leg?”
“Christ, it got grazed. I didn’t get gut shot.”
She jerked her shoulder, maintained silence until she pulled up at the BAC. “Out, and take your crappy mood with you.”
He sat another moment. “I’ve spent a lot of time with Alice the last few days.”
“It’s noted and appreciated.”
“Careful you don’t smack your head on a tree branch riding that high horse with your nose pointed at the sky. I liked the time with her—it took my mind off other things. And I feel like she got to trust me. I’m not going to be around today when she tries working with Tate and the artist.”
“It’s good of you to worry about her. I mean that. Nana and Grammy will be there, Dr. Minnow, too. And Dr. Grove said he’s coming out to have a look at her.”
She watched the sun break above the horizon in a thin line of bright, beaming gold. “You’ve helped take her mind off things, too. It may sound strange to say you picked a good time to get shot, but it worked out that way.”
“That’s one way to look at it.” He shifted to her while the eastern sky exploded. “How about that fancy dinner Saturday night?”
“Not only a fancy dinner, but a Saturday night fancy dinner?” Wide-eyed, she jiggled her shoulders back and forth. “I might have to buy a new dress.”
“If you’ve got more than one, I haven’t seen it anyway.”
She laughed, kissed him. “Go on, get out, Skinner. You’re on my clock.” When he had, she leaned out the window. “If I get hung up, I’ll have Rory come back and pick you up after work.”
“I’ll wait for you.” He walked back to the window. “Come home with me tonight. I’ll pick something up from the kitchen here for both of us. Come home with me.”
“All right, but I’ll get the food. I’m closer to the kitchen.”
“Not fancy,” he called out as she backed up. “That’s for Saturday.”
It occurred to Bodine as she turned, flicked a glance back at him in her rearview, they weren’t just sleeping together. They were dating.
* * *
She did work longer than she’d hoped. Seasonals were dribbling back, others needed to be hired. New hires meant interviews, vetting, training, orientation.
“It’s all a good thing,” Bodine told Jessica as she packed her briefcase. “Bookings are up for spring right through to the first of the year, and they were solid last year. With us adding more activities and packages, it’s only going to head up from there.”
“You need a full-time assistant. I know how great Sal is, but you could use her full-time, or if you’d rather she run the front desk, you need somebody else. Having Chelsea’s made a huge difference for events. You need the same.”
Bodine frowned over it, over the simple truth of it. “I always get an itch in the middle of my back when I think of a formal assistant.”
Jessica pointed with a perfectly polished pink fingernail. “That’s your control button talking.”
“I’ve heard that before. Maybe I’ll talk to Sal. Maybe. Meanwhile, I’ve got an order to pick up from the kitchen. I have a date.”
“Me, too. Apparently it’s past time I saw Silverado. In exchange, Chase is going to try my lemon pasta with wilted arugula.”
It struck Bodine again, and she stopped in her tracks. “My God, he’s in love like Romeo. You’re getting married.”
“Yeah.” Jessica patted a hand on her chest. “You’ll be my maid of honor, won’t you?”
“I can’t believe it’s taken you a damn day to ask!” After dancing forward, Bodine gave Jessica a squeeze. “I was my cousin Betsy’s maid of honor, so I have some experience. And I trust you won’t make me wear raspberry-pink organza with poufy shoulders.”
“Blood oath on that one.”
But as Jessica’s smile struck Bodine as a little frantic, Bodine angled her head. “Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts?”
“I’ve already had two dozen thoughts. They all circle back to I really love him. It’s the marriage idea that scares me.”
“He’s going to eat wilted lettuce and you’re going to watch a classic Western movie. In my book, you’re already married. You just haven’t had the party yet.”
“As my maid of honor, will you keep saying things like that now and then over the next few months?”
“Absolutely. Now let’s go round us up a couple of cowboys.”
Shortly, as she drove home with two hearty chicken dinners in the back and Callen beside her, Bodine wondered out loud.
“Have you ever eaten wilted arugula?”
“Why would I?” Turning, he gave the containers in the back a suspicious study. “That’s not in those take-home dinners, is it?”
“No. It’s going to be on Chase’s plate tonight at Jessica’s.”
“That man is sick in love,” he said with some pity. “He doesn’t much like unwilted lettuce.”
“I was thinking the same. She’s getting the better end of the deal, as for him eating it, she watches Silverado.”
“Classic.”
“And a visual feast for the female eye. We’re having us some Cajun chicken, rosemary fingerling potatoes, and asparagus.”
“You’re making me glad I’m not in love with Jessica.”
“Add on some huckleberry cheesecake.”
“Maybe we should get married.”
Laughing, she turned sparkling eyes at him. “Careful, Skinner, some women grab at straws. How about we watch Silverado? I’ve got my own DVD.”
“Got popcorn?”
“I believe I can come up with that.”
“I’ve got the beer.” He reached over, touched her arm. “Alice is sitting out on the front porch.”
Even as he spoke, Alice rose, her hands clutched together at her waist.
As if she’d been waiting for her cue, Cora stepped out.
