Читать книгу The Man Who Had Everything - Christine Rimmer - Страница 15

Chapter Nine

As the float rolled down Main Street, past the charming century-old brick buildings and covered sidewalks of Thunder Canyon’s Old Town, Steph waved her hat wildly—and planned her next move with Grant.

Her mom wouldn’t have approved of her scheming in the least. Partly because Marie Julen was a woman who found scheming beneath her—and partly because she remained doubtful about her daughter’s decision to grab her chance with Grant while she could.

Too bad. Steph was all grown-up now, old enough to make her own decisions. Yeah, she and Grant had had a rough patch in their new relationship when he’d considered selling the ranch. But they’d gotten through that. Things were looking up in big way.

And today was a day tailor-made to suit her plans. A great opportunity for the two of them to be together, to enjoy each other’s company. To have a little fun.

The celebrations would continue all day and into the night. There would be the annual races, right there on Main Street. And after the races, over at the fairgrounds, the big Independence Day Rodeo. She planned to sit next to Grant for the rodeo—except during the barrel races where she was a contestant.

She figured she could leave him on his own while she competed. By then, he’d feel duty-bound to root for her while she raced—especially since the resort was her sponsor and had paid a pretty penny for her top-of-the-line gear.

After the rodeo, she’d get him to take her to dinner. And after dinner, the big Independence Day dance.

She just had to make sure that, when the parade was over, Grant didn’t get away.

The problem was Trixiebelle. She needed to get the mare back to her trailer and over to the fairgrounds for the rodeo. But if she took the time do all that, she just knew Grant would find some way to disappear on her. It never paid to give a skittish man the time to have second thoughts. To keep him with her for the day, she’d have to stay close at his side from the moment the float pulled to a stop.

She needed someone to take care of Trixiebelle—and what do you know? As the float finished its ride down Main and turned into the parking lot of a local motel called the Wander-On Inn, she spotted Rufus and Jim. The hands stood right there on the sidewalk, at the edge of the lot.

She waved at them and shouted, “Rufus! Hey, meet us when this thing comes to a stop!”

Rufus pulled a sour face, but he and Jim were there waiting when she led Trixiebelle down off the float. Arletta, who’d somehow managed to race down Main through the packed crowds and was waiting when the parade trailed into the motel lot, had cornered Grant again and was gushing all over him.

Great.

She had a minute or two, at least, before he’d have time to make his escape.

“Rufus—”

The old cowboy grunted. “You say my name that way, gal, and I know I’m about to be gettin’ my orders.”

“I just wonder if you’d mind taking Trixiebelle back to the parking lot at Cedar Street? Her trailer’s there, hitched to my pickup, along with my racing costume and barrel saddle. If you could—”

“Hell. Why not?” He knew where to meet her and what time. He rattled them off. “Right?”

“Thanks.”

“No thanks are needed—and you better hurry. Looks like your gold miner’s gettin’ away.”

She laughed and paused long enough to kiss his grizzled cheek. “You know too much, you realize that.”

“I’m arthritic, not blind. Best get a move on.” Beside him, Jim was looking at the ground.

Steph knew the hand was kind of sweet on her, but she’d never encouraged him. She’d always kept things strictly professional between them.

Now, when he finally glanced up, she gave him a quick, no-nonsense nod—not ignoring him, but not encouraging him, either—and then whirled, her mind instantly back on the man who filled her heart. Grant was heading off into the crowd.

“Hey, Mr. Miner!”

He stopped. Turned.

She stuck out a hip and propped a fist on it. “Buy a girl a drink?”

He grunted. “It’s barely noon.”

She hurried to catch up and looped her arm with his. “A root beer will do.” She linked her arm with his. “Love that hat.” It was leather, floppy and silly and it made her smile. And he was so big and tall and handsome, even in his pink long-john shirt and dirty bandanna. Just looking up at him had her heart beating faster. He was her favorite cowboy and he always had been.

He groused, “As a matter of fact, I was just thinking about where I could go to change.” The good news was he made no effort to pull away from her. In fact, he looked down at her as if he never wanted to leave her side—and hated himself because of it.

She could almost feel sorry for him. If she wasn’t so dang happy to be the object of his guilty lust. “You can’t change your clothes.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Well, if you change, then I’ll change. You know you’d hate that.”

A smile tried to tug at the edges of his scowl. “Okay. I admit it. You look damn cute in that skirt.”

“Thank you.” She shook the arm that wasn’t clutching his, making the fringe dance. “It’s this fringe, right? You just love a lot of fringe on a woman.”

“Er…that’s it. The fringe.”

The loudspeakers over by the grandstand in front of the town hall crackled to life and over the noise of the crowd, they heard the voice of the honorable Philo T. Brookhurst, town mayor. “Folks, step back off the street now. Time to cordon off Main from South Main to Nugget. We’re gearing up fast for the annual Thunder Canyon Races. Get your kids ready to win a twenty-dollar prize.”

She let go of his arm and grabbed his hand. “Come on. The toddlers run first. They’re always so cute, the way they forget where they’re going and wander off in all directions. Let’s get us a good spot.”

She hauled him along behind her, weaving her way through the crowd. He didn’t try to protest, so she figured she had him—for the moment anyway.

And she did. She had him.

He stayed close at her side. He bought her that root beer and they watched the races, every one of them, from the plump toddlers on up to the final race for “octogenarians and above.” A ninety-five-year-old woman won that one. She held up her twenty-dollar prize and let out a whoop you could hear all the way to Billings. Then the old gal threw her arms around the mayor’s thick neck and planted a big smacker right on his handlebar moustache.

Steph leaned close to Grant and teased in a whisper, “Now that is a feisty woman.”

“Yeah.” He sent her a smoldering look, one that strayed to her mouth. She wished with all her heart that he would kiss her. Right there on Main Street, with the whole town watching. But he didn’t. He only whispered back, “Damn spunky, and that is no lie.”

After the races, Steph gave Grant no time to start making those see-you-later noises. She asked him for a ride over to the fairgrounds. After all, she told him sweetly, Rufus had taken her pickup to pull Trixiebelle’s trailer over there for her.

What could he say? He would never leave her stranded without a ride.

He’d parked his black Range Rover behind the town hall.

“Very nice,” she told him, once she’d climbed up into the plush embrace of the leather passenger seat. She sniffed the air. “Mmm. Smells like money in here.”

“Smart aleck,” he muttered as he stuck the key into the ignition. Before he could turn it over, she reached across and laid her hand on his.

Heat. Oh, she did love the feel of that. Every time she touched him, a jolt of something hot and bright went zipping all through her body. Making her grin. Making her shiver in the most delightful way.

“Steph,” he warned, low and rough.

She leaned closer. “Kiss me.”

He was looking at her mouth again. “You’re just asking for trouble, you know that?”

“Uh-uh. I’m not…”

“Oh, no?”

“What I’m asking for is a kiss.” She dared to let her fingers trail up his arm. Amazing, that arm. So warm and hard and muscular beneath the grimy pink sleeve of his long johns.

“A kiss?” he repeated, still staring at her mouth.

“Yeah. A long, slow, wet one.” She brushed the side of his neck with her forefinger and felt a shudder go through him. “That’s what I want. And I know that you know the kind I mean…”

He said her name again, this time kind of desperately.

“Oh, yeah,” she whispered as he leaned in that extra fraction of an inch and pressed his lips to hers.

Oh, my. He tasted so good. She opened her mouth and sucked his tongue inside, throwing her arms around him, letting out a moan of pure joy.

He stopped it much too soon. Taking her by the elbows, he peeled her off him and held her at arm’s length.

She tried to look innocent. “What? You don’t like kissing me?”

He said something under his breath, a very bad word. “You know I do. And if you keep this up…”

“What? You’ll make love to me? Oh, now wouldn’t that be horrible?”

“You’re just a kid and you—”

She swore then, a word every bit as bad as the one he’d used. “Maybe you’d like to see my driver’s license. It’s got my birthday right on there, in case you forgot how old I am.”

“You know what I mean. You don’t…date a lot.”

Gently she pulled free of his grip. “And you do. I know that. I’m not some dreamy fool, though you keep trying to convince yourself I am.”

He actually looked flustered, his face red and his blue eyes full of tender indecision. “I…meant what I said last night, that’s all. It wouldn’t last. And you’d end up hating me. I couldn’t take that.”

She held his eyes and banished all hint of teasing from her tone as she told him, “No matter what happens, Grant, I’ll never hate you.”

“You say that now…”

“Because it’s true.” She hooked her seat belt. When he didn’t move, she slanted him another glance. “Come on. Let’s go. The barrel race is up first. I have to track Rufus down and get my horse.”

For a moment, she thought he’d say more. But then he only swore again and reached for the key to start the engine.

* * *

She lost the barrel race.

Got too close to the second barrel, knocked it clean over. And that was it. The five-second penalty for tipping a barrel took her right out of the running in a race where the difference between first and second place was in fractions of a second.

She gave Trixiebelle an apple and handed her over to Rufus, who said he’d see to getting her home. “Jim can take the other truck back and I’ll take yours.” He shook a gnarled finger at her. “You watch yourself now. Don’t go stealin’ some innocent cowboy’s heart…”

With teasing solemnity, she vowed, “You know I would never do any such thing.” The ranch hand snorted and waved her away and she went to find Grant, who’d saved her a place in the stands.

He threw an arm around her and pulled her close.

“Hey, tough luck. At least we know you’re the best.”

She thought that she wouldn’t mind losing every race she entered, if it meant Grant would put his arm around her and tell her how great she was. “Truth is, I’m thinking my barrel racing days are over. I just don’t have the time to practice like I used to. After all, I’ve got a ranch to run—not to mention teaching the occasional resort-happy tenderfoot how to stay in the saddle.”

He looked at her admiringly. “You’re a good sport, Steph. Always have been.”

It wasn’t the kind of compliment the average woman could appreciate. But Steph recognized high praise when she heard it.

He sat right there at her side through the whole rodeo, from roping to calf wresting, bareback and bronc riding and bull riding, too. It was a dream of a day and she never wanted it to end.

They were back at his four-by-four at a little before five. “Take me to dinner,” she commanded.

“This is getting damn dangerous,” he said.

But he didn’t say no.

He drove to a friendly Italian place he liked in New Town, east of the historic area around Main. He said they’d never get seats anywhere in Old Town, where all the restaurants would be packed with tourists and folks down from the resort, looking for a little taste of Thunder Canyon hospitality.

They shared a bottle of Chianti and she told him more about her plans for improvements at Clifton’s Pride. He talked about the new golf course that a world-famous golf pro was designing for the resort, about his ideas for further expansion, about how much he loved the work he was doing.

She grinned across the table at him. “You don’t have to say how much you love your work. It’s right there in your eyes every time you mention it.”

He teased, “Are you telling me I’m boring you?”

“Uh-uh. Not in the least. I like to see you happy, with your eyes shining, all full of your big plans.”

He leaned close again. “You do, huh?”

“I do.” She raised her wineglass. He touched his against it.

When he set the glass down, he said, “This is nice.”

And she nodded. “Yeah. It is. Real nice.”

“Too nice…” His tone had turned bleak.

And after that, he grew quiet. Oh, he was kind and gentle as ever. If she asked a question, he answered it. He wasn’t rude or anything.

But she knew what had happened. He’d caught himself having a good time with her—in a man-and-woman kind of way.

And that scared him to death.

“I’m taking you home now,” he said, when they left the restaurant. His strong jaw was set. It was a statement of purpose from which she knew he would not waver.

Steph didn’t argue. She could see it in his eyes: She’d gotten as far as she was going to get with him that day.

Grant let Steph off in front of the ranch house. She leaned on her door and got out with no fanfare.

“Thanks,” she said. “I had a great time.”

He nodded. She shut the door. He waited, the engine idling, until she went inside.

And then he sat there a moment longer, wishing she was still in the passenger seat beside him, cursing himself for a long-gone fool.

He headed back to town. He wasn’t ready yet to return to the resort, where he was the boss with all that being the boss entailed.

Steph’s scent lingered, very faint and very tempting, in the car. Or maybe not. Maybe he only imagined it. But whether he could actually still smell her or not, he found himself breathing through his nose, just to get another whiff of her.

This was beyond bad. He’d spent practically the whole day with her. He still didn’t quite know how that had happened. Somehow, every time he’d told himself he needed to cut the contact short, she would look at him with those green eyes.

And he would be lost.

He had to face it, he supposed: Steph Julen had it all. The total package.

There was not only her scent and her sweet, clean-scrubbed face and fine, slim body. There was also that husky, humor-filled voice of hers. There was how smart she was, how charming. How good.

She was a good person. He wanted the best for her. Even more so now, when he was finally realizing what a terrific woman she’d become.

At the corner where Thunder Canyon Road turned sharply east and became Main, across from the Wander-On Inn, the Hitching Post loomed. The big brick building was famous in Thunder Canyon history, as it had once been The Shady Lady Saloon, the town’s most notorious watering hole, run by the mysterious Shady Lady herself, Lily Divine, back in the 1890s.

Grant turned into the lot, which was packed. But luck was with him. He found a space in the last row as a muddy pickup slid out and drove away.

Inside, the place was jumping. The jukebox played country-western at full volume. Grant knew that later in the evening a local band would be taking the stage at the far end of the barnlike space.

One side was a restaurant, the other the bar, with no wall to separate the two. Grant stuck to the bar side, elbowing his way up through the crowd and sliding onto a stool as another man vacated it.

The portrait on the wall behind the bar was of a well-endowed blond beauty, resting seductively on a red-velvet chaise lounge, wearing nothing but pearls and a few bits of almost-transparent black fabric strategically placed to hint at more than they revealed. The lady was none other than the notorious Lily herself and that painting had hung in the exact same spot over a century before when she owned and ran the place.