Читать книгу Do You Take This Cowboy? - Vicki Lewis Thompson - Страница 11

Chapter Three

Drew pulled into the ranch’s circular gravel drive exactly at seven. The sun had dipped behind the Bighorn Mountains, but there was still plenty of light to see Austin sitting on the porch in one of the Adirondack chairs. The picture he made in his gray Stetson, yoked Western shirt, boots and faded jeans was exactly why so many women fantasized about cowboys.

That outfit, especially on a man built like Austin, made her feel safe. Like the knights of old, he would leap on his horse and ride to her rescue. Even though she didn’t need rescuing, she still loved the idea of a cowboy hero who’d protect her from the bad guys and look great doing it.

He left his chair as she shut off the motor. Anticipation thrummed through her veins as he came down the steps with the slightly bowlegged stride common to men who’d spent most of their lives on horseback. Oddly enough, she hadn’t dated cowboys while living in Montana.

In high school and college she’d hung out with the art students and at home her life had revolved around the family restaurant. She’d dated some artist types and a couple of chefs but no cowboys. Thunder Mountain, however, was chockablock with them.

She moved her purse to the floor of the passenger side out of habit. Nobody would break into her truck to steal it while she was parked here. She tossed the keys down there, too, and opened her door. She’d started to climb out when he rounded the front of the vehicle.

“Let me help you down.”

Amused, she waited. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had made that offer. He knew perfectly well she was capable of getting down by herself. But when he held out his hand, she was charmed.

“I like your hair like that.”

“Thanks.” Most of the summer she’d worn it in a braid or a ponytail but she’d decided to leave it down tonight. She was on a date, after all.

“I’m glad you could make it.”

“Me, too.” She put her hand in his and the controlled strength in his grip sent a shiver of pleasure up her arm. “Fortunately the editing went well and I had time to finish the video.” Then she glanced around, not sure who might be within hearing distance. “Did you have to dream up a story to explain to your folks how we ended up going out tonight?”

“I have Lexi to thank for that. She told them you came out today to check on some details for the wedding video.” He let go of her hand once she had both feet on the ground.

“That will give them another hint, though.” She breathed in the scent of his aftershave. “They know something’s going on.”

He sighed. “You’re right. Now they might think it involves a video. My mistake. If we’d met in town I could’ve snuck away without explaining I was meeting someone.”

“I didn’t think of that, either, so I’m as much at fault as you.” Something else occurred to her but when she gazed into his blue eyes she lost her train of thought.

He smiled. “Not letting you shoulder any of the blame, ma’am. I complicated things, case closed.”

Ah, that smile. And speaking of shoulders...

She remembered what she’d been about to say. “Actually, Lexi took a risk when she invited me in for a beer. When I pointed out that Rosie and Herb might come back and find me there, she came up with that cover story she used to help you out.”

“Yeah?” He brightened. “I didn’t know that.”

“And if she hadn’t invited me in for a beer, you and I wouldn’t have met.”

“So it’s all Lexi’s fault?”

She laughed. “Pretty much.”

“Now I don’t feel so guilty. I just thought a cookout would be more fun than a boring restaurant meal.”

“You’ve got that right. I was thrilled with the suggestion. I’ve spent so much time in Martinelli’s that I don’t care if I never eat in another restaurant again.”

“Then I’m glad I thought of it.”

“So where are we headed? Backyard barbecue? Fire pit?”

He gestured toward the edge of the porch. “We’ll take the ATV out to the back twenty.”

She looked and sure enough, a green-and-brown ATV was sitting there. She’d been so focused on his handsome self she hadn’t noticed it. “The back twenty? I’ve only heard people refer to the back forty.”

“They do.” He started walking toward the ATV. “But this ranch isn’t that big so we have the back twenty. We joke about it, but I have great memories of the place. It’s where we used to camp out when we were kids. Or I should say, when I was a kid and was allowed to tag along with the big guys. I came here when I was nine. Everybody else was a teenager.”

“And so they called you Junior.”

“Mostly Cade.” He stopped next to the ATV and turned to her with another one of his endearing smiles. “I don’t mind it as much as he thinks I do. I did back then, but now...now I think he says it because he likes me.”

“I’m pretty sure he likes you.” She wondered if Austin had any idea how appealing he was. “Cade strikes me as the kind of guy who only teases people he likes.”

He nodded. “These days, probably so. But you should have heard the way he said Junior years ago when I used to bug him to death. I followed him everywhere. Looking back on it, I wonder why he didn’t deck me. I’ll bet he wanted to but I was a lot smaller and he’d never have beat up on someone smaller.”

“Then he must like you, because you’ve grown enough for him to beat up on if he wanted to.”

“Guess so.” He laughed. “Come to think of it, yesterday he said now I was too big to mess with, especially since he’s hit thirty and is losing muscle mass.”

“So if he’s thirty, how old are you?”

“Twenty-six.”

“Huh.” She decided to go for full disclosure and get it over with. “How do you feel about having a cookout with an older woman?”

“I don’t care how old you are.”

“For the record, I’m twenty-eight.”

He shrugged. “Two years is nothing.” He turned toward the ATV, but then swung back to her. “Unless you’re not happy about going out with a younger guy. Some ladies would rather date someone older than they are. I’ve run into a few of those.”

Silly women. “I’m not one of them.”

“Good to know.” He swung one long leg over the ATV. “Climb on behind me and we’ll get this show started. Oh, and hold on tight. I won’t be going fast but we’ll hit some bumps along the way. Can’t help it. The rain’s done a number on the road.”

She needed no encouragement to wrap both arms around his solid torso and scoot against his firm backside. Riding on the back of an ATV with Austin immediately became her favorite outdoor activity. What a great excuse to get up close and personal with a guy who not only looked good but felt even better.

The ride ended long before she was ready to let go of him. He pulled into a clearing with a boundary marked by rocks spaced a few inches apart. Beyond them the brush, mostly sage, grew three to four feet high.

But now they’d stopped and she felt obliged to climb off, darn it. She had a nice buzz going and she had the crazy urge to ask if that had been as good for him as it had been for her.

When he just sat there while he took a couple of deep breaths, she had a feeling it had been.

“Lordy.” His low chuckle was followed by a long sigh. “Maybe I should have taken you to a restaurant in town, after all.”

“Oh?”

“I knew I was attracted to you, but I thought I could manage a short ATV ride. Turns out it affected me more than I thought it would.” He climbed off the four-wheeler and faced her. “But everything’s under control now.” He gave her a sheepish smile. “I promise you’re safe with me.”

She met his gaze. “If it makes you feel any better, the drive turned me on, too.”

Heat flared in his eyes.

She felt obliged to add one more fact. “But we just met.”

“Only hours ago.”

“At this point it wouldn’t be about you and me as individuals with histories and personality quirks. It would be like strangers scratching an itch. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I—”

“I didn’t invite you out here to scratch an itch. I’m past that stage in my life.”

“Good. So am I. Come to think of it, I never went through that stage.” She noticed a folded blanket on top of a metal ice chest but that was probably so they’d have a place to sit. “I’ve always wanted to get to know someone first.”

“Exactly.”

“It’s good we’re agreed on that.” Definitely good. Maybe. Except he wasn’t some guy she’d met in a bar. She knew his foster family. She knew he’d been to New Zealand. She knew he could fix a clogged sink. “I see you’ve toted everything out here already, so let’s have our meal and swap stories.”

“That was my plan.” He gestured toward the campsite he’d set up. “Welcome to our dining room. That little fire pit is strictly for ambiance. I’m using the Coleman stove to make dinner. Cooking over a campfire gives you lots of atmosphere but it can also give you undercooked or overcooked food.”

“A Coleman stove sounds fine. I have one myself.”

“You do? I thought you didn’t cook.”

“I don’t when I have alternatives, but I camp out quite a bit when I’m shooting nature videos. I love my coffee in the morning and scrambled eggs are nice to go with it. What can I do to help?”

“The cooking’s my deal, but you can light the campfire if you want. I left some matches next to it.”

“Looks like you thought of everything.” She walked over and crouched next to the fire pit where he’d arranged kindling and a couple of larger logs. Extra wood was stacked nearby. She recognized a fire laid by someone who knew what he was doing and sure enough, it caught with one match. “Done.”

“Then all you have to do is keep an eye on it and add a log if you think it needs one. You can have a seat on the blanket and I’ll get you something to drink.”

“I won’t object to that.” She found a good spot for the blanket, folded it so two could fit and sat down. The clearing had been raked recently but she’d guess the rocks defining the perimeter had been there for years.

“You know what?” He opened the ice chest. “I should have asked you about the wine instead of making an assumption because you’re Italian.”

“You brought Chianti.”

“No, I brought a New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc.” He held it up. “The assumption was that you were a wine drinker. Like I said, I should have asked.”

“I am a wine drinker and I’m glad it’s not Chianti. I can have that anytime just by walking in the back door of Martinelli’s and asking for a glass.”

“All righty, then.” He twisted off the screw top. “It was going to be this or water. I didn’t bring anything else to drink.” He took out two chilled glasses and handed her one. “I had this when I was over there and really liked it.” He poured them each some wine.

“I’m sure I will, too.” She lifted her glass in his direction. “Here’s to adventure.”

“To adventure.” He tapped his glass to hers. “That’s a good thing to toast.”

“I haven’t had nearly as much adventure as you, I’m afraid.” She took a slow sip. “Nice wine.”

“Then I lucked out. Here’s hoping the meal works for you, too.”

“Since I rarely cook, almost any food made by someone else works for me.”

“This is a skillet dish a trail guide buddy created.” Setting his wine on the ground beside him, he hunkered down, turned on the stove and began pulling ingredients out of the ice chest. “It’s flexible regarding ingredients. Some kind of white fish, vegetables you have on hand and rice.”

“Sounds gourmet.”

“My friend’s a talented guy. Once every two weeks we offered an overnight trail ride. He was the chef on those outings.”

“I’m betting you were in charge of the fire.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Drew savored her wine. “Your life over there seems exotic and wonderful. I’m a little surprised you didn’t stay.”

“I wanted to spend enough time there that I felt the rhythm of the place in my bones.” He tended his stir-fry dinner. “But I always knew I’d come back here.”

“I like that idea—absorbing a place until you feel the rhythm in your bones. That’s what I try to do when I shoot a video. I think I’m almost there with Thunder Mountain.” She took another swallow of wine. “You’re a bit of a philosopher, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know about that, but ever since I saw The Lord of the Rings I’ve been into books. I might’ve read that phrase somewhere so don’t give me too much credit.”

“What books?”

“Anything about adventure, courage, honor, stuff like that. A librarian steered me toward The Iliad and The Odyssey. If I’d known that was serious literature I never would have read them. I’d taken enough teasing for Lord of the Rings.”

“But you liked them?”

“Sure did.” He paused to drink some wine. “My dad was kind of an epic hero. That’s probably why I related to those stories.”

She went very still. She knew this was important information but she didn’t know how to get him to elaborate. Finally, she decided to make it simple. “Would you tell me about your dad?”

His answer was slow in coming, but at last he spoke. “He was in Search and Rescue.”

She slowly let out her breath and waited for the story to unfold.

“A minor avalanche had trapped a family of five. My dad was on the team that went in to get them out.” He kept his attention on his cooking, carefully stirring the mixture in the pan. “They rescued everyone except the family dog. My dad went back for the dog and a second avalanche hit. The dog jumped out of his arms when he saw his family and ran to them. But when he jumped, he threw my dad off balance. He couldn’t get up fast enough.”

“That’s rough.”

He switched off the burner and put a lid on the pan. “It was rough, especially because I was only six and idolized him.” Standing, he reached into a basket next to the cooler and took out plates, napkins and utensils. “My mom must have been torn apart by the news, but she said all the right things to me—that my dad had died doing what he loved and he’d helped save the family and their beloved pet.”

She wanted to hug him and offer comfort, even though the event had taken place twenty years ago. Didn’t matter. He still felt the loss. She could tell by the catch in his voice as he’d finished the story.

But their relationship was still so new that she hesitated. At least she could help with serving up the meal. She got to her feet. “I’ll hold the plates while you fill them.”

“Good idea.” He handed her the dishes with the silverware and napkins on top. As he met her gaze, his voice gentled. “I know it seems like I got a rotten deal, but compared to the other foster boys, I was lucky. My parents adored each other and adored me. I thank God for that every day.”

That was when she realized she only had half the story. His dad died when he was six and he’d come to the ranch when he was nine. She asked the question as gently as possible. “And your mom?”

“She was a riding teacher. A normally steady horse freaked out. She fell off, broke her neck and died instantly.”

“Oh, Austin.”

“I’m not saying it wasn’t awful, because it was. But after my dad died she spent the next three years emphasizing that I should do what I love because nobody knows the future. She loved riding almost as much as she loved me.”

“So you went to New Zealand.”

“Yes, ma’am. I knew they would have wanted me to.”

“Well, then.” She managed to give him a smile. “I can’t wait to see what adventure you choose next.”

He smiled back. “Who knows? You might want to be a part of it.”

“You know, I just might.”