Reuniting With the Rancher Page 12

  “So you’d give them summer experiences that would help them keep up?”

  “That would be part of it, along with taking them out of danger for a while.”

  “I think you’d find a lot of teachers around here who’d want to help with that. Want me to ask around?”

  “Not yet,” she said finally. “I haven’t even figured out the first steps. I probably need a complete plan. And somewhere along the way I’ll need licensing. But for now, I’ve got to figure it all out. Who it would serve and how.”

  She released the last of her resistance, and tried to envision the complete life change she’d only been playing with so far. Had this been what Martha had meant about finding her dream? It was possible.

  Apparently he decided they had been serious long enough. He sat up straighter and said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. I had breakfast before sunup. If you haven’t noticed, the sun is rising awfully early these days.”

  His change of subject came as such a relief that she giggled. “I didn’t notice.”

  “Slugabed,” he teased. “Jean filled me up before the crack of dawn.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “I helped my hired men start the worming and the vitamin shots.”

  “You have to give vitamins?”

  “You saw my range. Do you really think I’d have healthy, plump animals if I didn’t supplement from time to time?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” she admitted. “I feel kind of stupid.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I never bothered to learn much about what you do.”

  He waggled his eyebrows at her. “I seem to remember we were busy with other stuff.”

  She felt her cheeks heat and hoped he couldn’t see. Even though the trees weren’t completely leafed out yet, they did cast the world in a greenish glow.

  She accepted half a ham sandwich from him and bit into it, savoring it. “Great ham!”

  She also noticed his bare feet. That long-ago summer she had told him he had beautiful feet for a man. He still did. They were masculine, for sure, but narrow and well formed with high arches. More than once she had made him moan with pleasure by giving him a foot massage. He had always reciprocated, too, teaching her that nothing could relax her as fast or deeply as having her feet massaged.

  She missed that.

  She squirmed as she realized there was a whole lot more she missed, as well. Like being able to reach out and touch him at any time, in any way she chose. Like seeing that look come into his eyes that meant they were about to find a private place to make love.

  She giggled unexpectedly as a memory returned.

  “What?” he asked.

  “The person who thought that making love in a hayloft would be romantic never tried it.”

  A laugh escaped him. “That wasn’t one of our better ideas, even with a blanket.”

  “A horsehair blanket!” she reminded him. “That was almost as bad as the hay.”

  “Hey, it was the only one handy.”

  “I don’t know what was worse, the stink or the itch.”

  The shared laughter filled her with warmth, relaxing her utterly. It was good.

  And there was only one way it could be better. She quickly looked away as laughter faded and resumed nibbling at her sandwich. She’d had cereal for breakfast, but it seemed to have moved on, and despite the relatively early hour, she felt ravenous.

  Crossing his legs, Cliff dove into the contents of the bags and came up with a leafy green salad to go with the sandwiches, some warming bottles of soda and a small plastic container of cupcakes. “A feast,” he said. He held up a couple of sporks, making her laugh again. “I’m more in the mood for coffee than soda, though.”

  She passed him the vacuum bottle she’d carried. It had a double cup and he filled them both with steaming brew, passing her one.

  A bridge had been crossed, she realized. They had moved beyond all the lingering tension left by that summer and were growing comfortable again. Only now did she understand how much she had missed that. Missed him.

  Oh, yes, she had ached when she left him. Months had passed before she could stop thinking about him almost constantly.

  But the weirdest thing was that now she was sitting here wondering why she had insisted on breaking it off with him. She’d been full of youthful idealism and determination, sure she couldn’t be content being a ranch wife for the rest of her days, but in the process of making those decisions she had cut herself off from other possibilities and a number of wonderful things.

  She put her sandwich down on the wax paper, wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her chin on her knees, staring up along the rushing, swollen creek, thinking about the way choices rushed by in much the same way, often with unintended consequences. Choices that couldn’t be recalled.

  Cliff, seeking to pursue his own life, had married the wrong woman. She had married no one. She’d dated a few times, but if she was honest with herself, no one had measured up to Cliff.

  “It couldn’t have been any different.” She spoke the words aloud, musingly, then wished she hadn’t. That was going to open up a whole bunch of questions she wasn’t sure she could answer.

  Seconds ticked by before he said, “Us breaking up, you mean?”

  “Yeah. I guess.”

  He surprised her. “I don’t think it could have.”

  She turned her head, resting her cheek on her knees. “Why?”

  “You’re asking me? And damn, I wish you’d eat more.”

  “I will.” She waited, wondering if he was going to answer her.

  He had started his second sandwich, but put it down and reached for coffee. “We were too young and we were pulling in different directions. You needed to go places, I needed to stay here. Hell, my family has been planted here since 1878, and how likely do you think I was to abandon the homestead? I couldn’t.”

  “Certainly not with your mother ailing. How is she, by the way? I wish I could have met her.”

  “Nobody saw much of her back then. She couldn’t get out of bed. She’s doing okay. She and Dad have settled in New Mexico where the weather is warmer year-round and she cuts quite a swath in her motorized cart. Her multiple sclerosis hasn’t worsened any. Maybe it’s even improved.”

  “I’m glad they’re okay.”

  “So am I. Anyway, I couldn’t leave. You know that, even if I didn’t tell you all the reasons. Primarily I needed to make this ranch run so that I could help them out, as well as support a family of my own. I couldn’t just pack and leave, Holly.”

  “I understood that.”

  “Not saying you didn’t. But you had to leave. Nothing of what you wanted was here.”

  “Except,” she admitted quietly, “you.”

  He nodded. “I felt the same about you.”

  She hesitated, feeling her heart hammer with trepidation, but deciding it was high time she told him the truth. Hell, she should have had the guts to do it years ago, but back then she’d been too chicken to face up to herself. “I’m sorry I was so hard on you. God, I took an ax to you, to everything. I was horrid.”

  “No kidding.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the rebirth of an old pain.

  “You had to be cruel,” he said after a moment.

  With difficulty she forced her eyes open. “No, I didn’t.”

  “Yes, you did. I was arguing with you, objecting to everything you said, fighting to keep you, which would have been about as good as caging you. You had to ax it. You made me so mad I started to hate you, which I needed. And you made sure you burned the bridge completely so you’d have no further contact with me. I get it. You deliberately left us with no way back.”

  She averted her face, looking up the stream
again, thinking life was like that water, rushing by, here and then gone. Nothing to cling to. Her throat tightened, and her eyes burned. “I was still awful.”

  “I don’t think there was another way to do it, so stop beating yourself up. At that time, there was no other way to go. You set us both free to do what we needed.”

  “It didn’t feel a whole lot like freedom.”

  “No,” he agreed. “It felt more like desperation. Anyway, I was furious with you for a long time. I’m not sure I ever really got over it until lately, but it eased, and eventually I could even see the justice in what you’d done.”

  “I’m not sure it was justice.”

  “It was at least right. Damn it.” He threw out an arm. “We had an idyll. It wasn’t reality, for the most part. Two crazy kids locked in a haunting and fantastic summer romance. But then like everyone else on the planet, we had to face reality. We were headed down different roads. End of story.”

  She nodded, unable to find her voice around the lump in her throat. He had described it perfectly, just the way she thought of it, as a summer idyll without a future.

  But how often had she wished she could recapture those halcyon days, however briefly. They couldn’t build an entire lifetime, but they could sure as hell make up a beautiful experience. Nor did she feel that she wanted this story to end again.

  She watched him move the food out of the way. Then he reached out and gently unclasped her arms, easing her back on the rock. He leaned over her, his head framed by the trees and sky.

  “It was perfect,” he said, brushing her hair back behind her ear. “Absolutely perfect. Perfection is a rare and priceless thing. You don’t find it often, and it seldom lasts. We were blessed.”

  She tried to swallow the lump, then asked, “Are you measuring everything else against it?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “I think I have.”

  Despite the fact that his face was in shadow, she saw his eyes widen. “Oh, damn, Holly, no.”

  He scooped her into his arms and rolled over so that she lay on him, not the hard rock, then he caught her face between his hands and kissed her. Hard. The way he had once kissed her when the flame between them seared them with passion. She opened her mouth to him, wanting that kiss as much as anything she had ever wanted, well aware that this was dangerous, that they were still headed along their separate roads. If ever the universe had decreed that a relationship wasn’t meant to be, this was it.

  But she was helpless before the force of her longing and need. For some reason she needed him now, more than ever, but in different ways she could scarcely put a name to.

  His hands began to wander, first stroking her back, then slipping between them until he held her breasts. It was so familiar, yet as new as the moment. The hunger within her strengthened, driving everything else away except awareness of him beneath her and the magic his hands worked. It was as if she had been made only for him. She deepened her kiss and lifted her arms until she dug her fingers into his shoulders, silently begging for more. Her entire body tingled and ached, and the throb between her thighs intensified, promising heaven. Her hips rocked against him, and she felt his hardness rise up to meet her.

  It would be so easy, so right, and it would answer every craving she felt.

  He startled her by tearing his mouth from hers. He pulled his hands from her breasts and cradled her face once again. “What’s changed?” he asked.

  She felt almost sideswiped by the sudden shift in mood. It took a few seconds for his question to reach her. The way he said it left her wondering what he meant: Was he speaking to her or to himself? “Changed?”

  “Holly, I still want you every bit as much as I ever did.”

  She closed her eyes. “Me, too,” she admitted, wondering if her heart might hammer its way right out of her chest. She was pressed to him so intimately now, her breasts against his chest, her legs splayed to either side of his, leaving her feeling at once open and eager. She had never, ever stopped wanting him.

  “So what’s changed?” he asked again. “We’re lying here striking matches in a bed of pine needles, if you get my drift. Do we really want the forest fire? Has anything changed that much? You’re leaving in less than two weeks.”

  She couldn’t argue the truth of that. “One way or another, I have to go back. I still have a job.”

  “Exactly. So do we want to play with this kind of fire again if nothing has changed?”

  “When did you get so sensible?”

  She saw him smile faintly. “I grew up,” he answered. “I think you have, too.”

  “Somewhat, anyway. I know we can’t go back. I know we’re playing with fire.”

  “So that leaves the question. What has changed?”

  “This time,” she said slowly, “I don’t want to go back to my job.”

  “Ah, damn,” he said quietly. He released her face and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. “We can’t go back in time. You said it yourself.”

  “I know.”

  “So it could be really stupid to set off this conflagration again. We’re older now. We need something more. Right?”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I just don’t know. I’m so confused about everything.”

  “Which is a good reason not to strike the matches.” She felt him draw a deep breath, but at least he didn’t let go of her. He lifted a hand and stroked her hair gently.

  “I could make love to you right this minute,” he said almost roughly. “I’ve never forgotten, not an instant of it. Sometimes, when I let my mind wander, I can feel your skin against mine, feel your curves in my palms, remember the way your nipples tasted, the way you tasted. I can remember your moans and sighs, and damn, I miss it all. I want it again. But I’m older now and I need more than a couple of weeks. And so do you.”

  “I can’t promise that.”

  “Neither of us can right now. After ten years we’re practically strangers. You’re not sure which direction you want to take, and my direction is right here with sheep and goats and the land.”

  Her head lowered to his shoulder, and she inhaled his unforgettable scent as deeply as she could. He was right. She was more confused than she could ever remember feeling. It would be utterly stupid to light a fire that would burn them both, especially when they both remembered how badly it had burned them last time.

  She had to get her head sorted out. She had to pick a path. She had to settle on something internally one way or another. Part of her wanted to stay here, but part of her also recognized her obligations at home. Nor would she be content with a life where she wasn’t helping children.

  So that left a choice between Chicago and trying to build that youth ranch here. The ranch would be a huge undertaking, and while the idea excited her, it daunted her, as well.

  “I miss Martha,” she said against his shoulder. “She had more common sense in one finger than I’ll ever have.”

  “I’m not sure that’s true. In a lot of ways, you’re very much like her. She just had more years of experience. But if she were here, what would you ask her?”

  “Which way to turn.”

  “You know what she’d say.”

  “To make up my own mind. I know.” Holly sighed, then couldn’t prevent herself from nuzzling him. She turned her head until her nose touched the skin of his neck, slightly stubbled just below his jawline. He smelled so good. Just taking that aroma into her lungs swept her back to that long-ago summer.

  “Holly...” His tone was somewhere between a warning and a groan.

  This wasn’t good, she thought. It would be so easy to slip into the past, to feel so young again, so free, so heedless. But she wasn’t that person any longer and neither was he. And that was the danger. To try to relive that summer, no matter how wonderful, would be f
olly, and whatever came from it wouldn’t be based in the reality of now.

  She lifted her head, propped herself on her elbows and looked down at him. His turquoise eyes looked almost smoky and were half-closed. He held very still, as if he feared a movement might push them over the edge. It might. That would not be wise.

  But she rested as she was, savoring the close contact with him, realizing just how much she had missed lying with him this way, feeling his hard angles and planes against her softer curves. Not as soft as they had been back then, but still soft compared to him.

  “I missed you,” she admitted quietly. “Sometimes I missed you so much I ached and wondered if I’d been a fool.”

  He didn’t answer, leaving her to wonder if he’d moved from love to hate in an instant. Even though he said that he now understood, she wondered how long that understanding had taken him. How long it had been before he could forgive her for the awful things she had said, deriding him and his choices in life as going nowhere and doing nothing important.

  Cruel, hateful things that she still had trouble believing had emerged from her own mouth, things that remained etched in her brain as if with acid. She could hear herself and wanted to cringe.

  It had been necessary? That was an awfully generous thing for him to say. Maybe it had been. But the person she hoped she was, the person she wanted to be, wouldn’t have attacked him that way. She would have found a kinder way to sever the knot that had bound them over the summer, gentler words to explain that she had a different path to follow.

  Except even now she wondered if it would have worked. She’d been open all summer about how she was going back to school and into social work. Never had she once wavered in her determination. Even that hadn’t prevented him from falling in love with her.

  Or her with him, if she was honest. What else could have caused her all those tears, all that pain, after returning to school?