Cowboy for Keeps (15 page)

“For dinner?”

She smiled. “Sure. We can watch the show together.”

For the second time,
Dallas
thought. She’d set her own DVR to record the
Arizona
Today
show and planned on watching the episode the minute she arrived
home. Hopefully, with Conner, if he didn’t have to leave immediately for
work.

Work at the ranch, not the bottling plant. She still didn’t
quite know what to say to him. He’d rebuffed all her efforts.

“See you around six,” Marina said. “And bring Conner.”

“All right. We’ll see. Love you, Mom.” Studying his stoic
expression, Dallas gave another stab at starting a conversation with him. “She
said the interview went really well.”

“It did.”

Finally, he spoke! They were almost at her house and hadn’t
exchanged four words since she’d found him waiting outside the TV station.

“I didn’t come off too silly? I wasn’t expecting them to show
any photos other than the ones of Chiquita.”

“That woman, the pregnant one, she called you a natural.”

“Really?” Pleasure and pride flowed through Dallas. She’d
wanted to do well. The call from Richard and then Conner’s bad news had thrown
her off balance. She was glad that hadn’t come across.

“I’m sure you’ll get a lot of new clients after today.”

“You think?” She checked her cell phone. No text message or
voice mail icons were flashing.

Well, that was stupid. As if a call would come in so soon after
the show.

“What’s most important is that we find the person who shot
Chiquita and prevent something like that from ever happening again. It’s why I
did the interview, not to generate new business.”

Though it would be nice.

“There’s nothing wrong with accomplishing both.”

He’d waited such a long time before responding, she’d begun to
think he’d retreated behind that wall again.

“Mom invited us to dinner tonight. You and me. To watch the
show with them. She recorded it.”

There was another pause before he answered. “I’m working late.
To make up for taking off this morning.”

Dallas didn’t quite believe him, but she let it slide. He was
wounded. Parading her good fortune in front of him made it worse. She’d give him
whatever time he needed to recover, including distance from her for an evening
if that was what he wanted.

It wasn’t what she wanted, however. If she could, she’d wrap
him in her arms and hold him until his pain lessened.

They reached her condo, and he parked where he usually did
along the curb.

Usually? Had their relationship progressed to that point?

Yes. They were involved. Intimate. A couple.

But were they capable of handling the multitude of challenges
facing them? The baby. Richard. Conner’s financial worries and employment
situation. Her recent successes.

She was capable. She was less certain of Conner.

Before this morning, before the phone call from Sunday Givens,
she’d have counted on him without a single hesitation. Now, he’d withdrawn. Shut
her out instead of accepting the support she willingly tendered.

That wasn’t what couples did.

It was temporary, Dallas told herself. He’d take a few
well-deserved hours to brood and then he’d be back to his old self.

If only he’d gotten the job. How different the ride home would
have been.

He walked her to her door.

She dug for her keys. “Want to come in?”

“I have to...”

“Work. I know.” She circled his neck with her free arm,
intending to kiss him.

To her surprise, he set her aside. “I’ve changed my mind. I
will come in for a few minutes.”

“Good.” Except the look in his eyes was anything but good.
Something serious, something more than the job, was eating at him.

In the kitchen, she deposited her purse and portfolio on the
table. Conner, she noticed, didn’t remove his hat or jacket. Charming and Snow
White both appeared, but remained under the kitchen table, watching with wide,
owl-like eyes.

“I have an idea,” Dallas announced, infusing her voice with
cheerfulness. “Let me call the head of the AAWA.”

“About Chiquita?”

“No, you. The association is large, and even though they’re
nonprofit, they have all kinds of paid positions. Several at the management
level.”

He spoke slowly. “For me?”

“Yes, for you.” She went to him, slid her arms into his jacket
and around his waist. “I could also contact a few of my clients. Ask if they’re
hiring.”

“No.” He stiffened.

“It can’t hurt to ask.”

He pulled away from her so fast she was left standing alone in
the middle of the floor.

“I don’t need your handouts. I can find a job on my own.”

“It’s not a handout. I’m just trying to help.”

“I get it. You’d rather have a boyfriend with a real job. A
good job. One you can brag about to your friends. Like Richard. Not someone
who’s just a ranch hand.”

She gasped sharply. “That isn’t true.”

“Isn’t it?” Conner’s features were a storm of hurt and anger.
“What do you say when your friends ask you what I do for a living?”

“I say you’re a systems analyst. Which you are. And while
you’re looking for a new job, you’re running the mustang sanctuary, managing the
livestock at Clay’s rodeo arena and in charge of training horses at Powell
Ranch.”

“I’m none of those things.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I work for Gavin. Just like I work for Clay. I’m not running
or managing or in charge of anything. And I’m an out-of-work systems analyst.
You make me sound better than I am.”

“You are better. I don’t have to—”

“That woman at the TV station called me Mr. Sorrenson.”

Was that what was bothering him?

“It’s a natural mistake. People called me Mrs. Kassor all the
time when Richard and I were engaged.”

“She also assumed I was your baby’s father. Why didn’t you set
her straight?”

Why hadn’t she?

She shrugged. “I didn’t think about it. I was concentrating on
the interview.”

Okay, he was upset about the Sonoran Bottling job going to
someone else. But Dallas had done nothing wrong. She’d shown compassion and
sympathy. Had tried to console and encourage him. So she painted him in the best
possible way to her friends. Who wasn’t guilty of that?

“Whatever I did to upset you, Conner, tell me. Please.”

“I am what I am. Making me sound better doesn’t change me.”

“I’m not trying to change you. I don’t care what you do for a
living as long as you’re happy.”

“That’s just it. I’m not happy. I don’t want to be a ranch hand
forever. But I’m not ashamed of it, either.”

“Neither am I. I’m proud of what you do.”

“Then why don’t you tell people the truth?”

“What’s wrong with casting things in the best possible
light?”

“That power of positive thinking you’re always pushing?”

She’d mind less if his tone wasn’t snide. “It’s not my fault my
career is taking off and you still haven’t found a job,” she stated.

He recoiled.

“I’m sorry, Conner. That was thoughtless.” And much crueler
than what he’d said to her.

“I should go.”

Panic seized her. “Wait!” She reached for him.

“What if I never find a job? What if I lose my house and
deplete my 401K? You really want to be tied to a penniless loser?”

“You’re not a loser! That’s your disappointment talking.”

“Damn right I’m disappointed. I’m good at what I do. Very good.
I’d have run circles around Sonoran’s last systems analyst. Except they didn’t
give me the chance.”

“Their mistake. But someone else will hire you.”

“When?” He shook his head. “You’re having a baby, Dallas. You
need a man who can bring more to the relationship that I can. One who’s secure.
Responsible. Not a liability.”

Was he referring to Richard?

“You’re wonderful with children.”

“That’s hardly enough.”

“It is for me. And you—” She started to say “love me” and
thought better of it. “You care for me.”

“I can’t alter how I feel. How I was raised. I have to be on a
more equal career and financial footing with the woman in my life. I don’t
begrudge you your success. You deserve it. But watching you is hard on me.”

“This is temporary. You’ll find a job.”

“I will. Eventually. It could take a while, though. Months.
Years.”

“And we’ll keep doing what we’re doing in the meantime.”

Another one of those long pauses followed. Dallas sensed what
was coming before he said it.

“I think we should take a break.”

Tears pricked her eyes. “You mean
break
up?
”

“It might be for the best.”

“No! No, no, no. Let’s just take a minute here and calm down.
Think about things.”

“There’s nothing to think about. Your baby and your career are
your priorities. Mine are finding a job and not losing my house.”

Her patience snapped. “All this because some woman at the TV
station called you Mr. Sorrenson by mistake?”

“It was the shot in the arm I needed to see
this—us—clearer.”

“I won’t give up opportunities simply because you’ve hit a bump
in the road.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

Her cell phone rang. She ignored it.

“Tell me, and be honest. If the situation was reversed, if I
was the one out of work and you had a job, would we still be having this
conversation?”

He didn’t answer.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” She wiped her damp eyes. “You’re
a male chauvinist, Conner.”

“Maybe a little.”

“A little? You’re about to walk out on the best thing to ever
happen to you because you don’t have as good a job as I do.”

He wasn’t the only one guilty of having an inflated ego.

“If I’m not satisfied with the state of my life, how can you
ever be satisfied with it?”

At that moment, her land line rang. She ignored it as she had
her cell phone.

“Take care, Dallas. Give your parents my apologies for missing
dinner.”

What? He was walking out on her and all he could say was to
apologize to her parents?

The answering machine on the counter picked up and the greeting
played. They both turned their heads when Richard’s voice filled the air.

“Hey, honey. I went home at lunch and watched your interview.
You knocked ’em dead. And your pictures...wow. Call me later, okay? I’d like to
come over. Talk to you.” His voice went soft near the end.

The best camera shot in the world couldn’t have fully captured
the misery on Conner’s face.

“It’s not what you think,” she insisted.

“You have no idea what I’m thinking.”

And she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

He left then. She didn’t see him to the door. Her legs would
only carry her as far as the table, where she slumped into a chair.

Her land line rang again. Another message, this one from the ad
agency.

“Dallas! Call the minute you get this. We’ve had three clients
express an interest in your work. All in the last hour. That TV interview must
have been phenomenal. You rock, girl!”

She should be thrilled. This was exactly the response she’d
been hoping for.

Only without Conner to share it with, she didn’t care.

Chapter Fifteen

“Quit your fussing.” Conner stroked the colt’s neck,
and felt him tremble beneath his fingers. “You’re not hurt.”

It had taken a dozen attempts, but he now had a pony-size
halter on the colt. Of course, he hated it. When they were done, he’d jerked
away from Conner and pranced in circles around the pen before coming to stand
next to his mother.

Chiquita wasn’t interested in the least, and her calm demeanor
helped relax her offspring. Neither had she objected earlier when Conner
attached the lunge line and put her through her paces for a good half hour.

Her injuries weren’t healed nearly enough for a saddle to be
placed on her back. That would require another month or two. In the meantime,
Conner would exercise her regularly with a lunge line in the round pen.

Almost two years living in the wild hadn’t affected her much.
She was intelligent, responsive and eager to please. Conner had no doubt old Mr.
Edenvane was right. The mare would make a fine trail horse. She was already an
excellent and proven broodmare.

The colt? Well, the jury was still out on him. He’d been born
wild and would require a lot of training.

In the young horse’s favor, Conner would have plenty of time to
invest in him. Conner had no day job other than being a ranch hand, and no
girlfriend to occupy his evenings and weekends.

If he concentrated really hard on the horses, he could forget
about Dallas and their breakup. For a minute. Two at the most.

He hadn’t called her, and she hadn’t called him. What did he
expect? That she’d come running to Powell Ranch, begging him to take her
back?

Hardly. Not after the awful things he’d said to her.

If anyone was owed an apology, it was her. And he would
apologize. Soon. When he could face her again without feeling an invisible knife
twisting in his gut.

Terrible, hurtful words aside, they were better off apart.

The colt bumped his arm and pawed the ground impatiently.

“You want some attention, huh?” Conner rubbed the colt’s nose,
which made him snort and shake his head. “Must mean you’ve decided the halter’s
not so bad.”

“You name that colt yet?” Gavin stood at the railing, his boot
resting on the bottom rung.

How long had he been standing there?

“Thought you were going to do that.”

“Me? No. I don’t name other people’s horses.”

Conner shielded his eyes and squinted at his friend. “Other
people’s horses? He’s yours.”

“No, he’s yours. You found him. You captured him and the mare.
You’re the only one he’ll let within ten feet of him. The way I see it, he
belongs to you. He seems to think so, too.”

Conner was deeply touched. He’d grown fond of the little guy.
But he couldn’t accept. “I can’t afford a horse right now.” If he didn’t come up
with another two hundred dollars by the end of the week, he’d be late making the
mortgage payment on his house.

“He doesn’t eat much. Consider it a bonus.”

“I may not be able to afford him when he starts eating more.”
Conner stared at the ground. God, he despised being broke.

“Name him,” Gavin insisted.

“Why?”

“Once you do, he’s really yours.”

Conner did want the colt, but he couldn’t take on another
responsibility.

“You can work an extra couple hours a week to pay for his feed
and board.”

“I need every spare minute to look for a real job.” He sent
Gavin a remorseful glance. “No offense.”

“None taken. You’re a good cowboy and horses are a passion of
yours. But they’re not your calling. Not like the rest of us.”

The rest of us being Gavin, Ethan and Clay.

Conner untied Chiquita’s lead rope and led her out of the pen.
The colt, still nameless, pranced at her side.

“What’s really wrong?” Gavin asked, shutting the gate behind
them.

“I didn’t get the job with Sonoran Bottling. They called
Wednesday.”

“You’re only just telling me now?”

“I don’t know why I’m so bothered. It’s hardly the first job I
wanted and didn’t get.”

“You weren’t dating Dallas then.”

“I’m not dating her now.”

“I realize you two haven’t made any big announcement, but I’m
pretty sure what you’re doing is dating.”

“We’re not dating,” he repeated.

Gavin looked confused. “Since when?”

“Wednesday.”

“Same day you found out about the job at the bottling plant?
Hmm. Fancy that.”

“It wasn’t going to work.”

“Because you’re not good enough for her.”

As often as Conner had thought it the last few days, hearing
someone say it—his friend no less—stung.

“Something you concluded all by yourself, and based solely on
the bottling plant job tanking.”

“She needs to decide once and for all if she’s going to marry
Richard.” Conner began leading the horses toward the barn.

Gavin walked beside him. “She decided that a long time ago when
she ended their engagement.”

“You didn’t hear the phone message he left her.”

“You’re making a bigger deal of this than it is.”

“The reason he has hope for a reconciliation is because she
hasn’t cut him off completely.”

“They’re having a baby together. He’s always going to be
leaving her phone messages. Better they’re on good terms than bad ones. I know.
I go through this every day with Cassie and her mom, and Isa and her dad.
There’s nothing I’d like better than to strangle Sage’s ex.”

“There’s a difference. Sage’s ex doesn’t want to marry
her.”

“You’re right. And I’m not sure how I’d feel if he still loved
her and was actively pursuing her.”

“Not good. That’s how you’d feel.”

“Probably. But you can bet I wouldn’t be using her ex-fiancé as
an excuse.”

“Meaning?

“The problem is you. Not Dallas and not Richard.”

“He has a lot more going for him than I do.”

“Except that she doesn’t love him.”

They reached Chiquita’s stall. Conner led her in and removed
her halter. He left the colt’s halter on, and would for the next few weeks,
until the little guy got used to it.

“She doesn’t love me, either.”

“That’s about the biggest crock of horseshit I’ve heard in a
long time,” Gavin said. “She’s crazy about you.”

“If she is, she shouldn’t be.”

“What’s gotten into you?” The growl in Gavin’s voice took
Conner aback. “Has your spine gone completely soft?”

Back in their younger days, when they were playing sports and
rodeoing, those would have been fighting words.

Hell, they still were.

There, in the middle of the barn aisle, Conner grabbed a
fistful of Gavin’s jacket and hauled him up until their faces were just inches
apart. “My spine’s not soft.”

A wide smile split Gavin’s face. “There’s the Conner Durham I
know. It’s good to have you back, buddy.”

Conner’s grip on Gavin’s jacket loosened. Bit by bit, his own
mouth stretched into a slow grin.

He felt better than he had in days. Months. Seven months, to be
exact.

The office door swung open and Javier tumbled out into the
aisle. He took one look at Conner and Gavin and hesitated, apparently deciding
it was better not to interrupt.

“What is it,
amigo?
” Gavin
asked.

“A man...he here.”

Gavin stepped back from Conner and smoothed his jacket. “I’ll
be right along.”

“No,
señor.
He come for
Conner.”

“Me?” Conner tugged his own jacket into place. “Did he tell you
his name?
Qué es su nombre?
”

Javier completely mangled the pronunciation.

Even so, Conner recognized it, and his gut clenched.

What was Richard doing here, and what did he want with him?

* * *

T
HE
SHARP
KNOCKING
on her front door gave Dallas a jolt. She
wasn’t expecting anyone, not at—she glanced at the clock on the stove—3:58 in
the afternoon.

Please,
she thought to herself as
she padded across the living room to check the peephole,
don’t let it be Conner.
She wasn’t ready to see him yet.

Don’t let it be Richard, either,
she added. With her defenses at an all-time low, she might cave in to his
expertly applied pressure.

Neither Conner nor Richard stood on the other side of the door,
which wasn’t much of a relief. Instead, it was the third last person she wanted
to see: her mother.

“Dallas?” Marina’s muffled voice penetrated the barrier. “Let
me in. I know you’re home. I saw your car.”

Busted, and without any other options, she opened the door. The
look of sorrow on her mother’s face made Dallas regret leaving that voice mail
message about her and Conner’s argument.

She refused to call it a breakup, since technically they’d been
dating less than two weeks—if she counted the charity event.

Hardly worth the flood of tears she’d been shedding practically
nonstop in the two days since he’d walked out of her house and, very likely, out
of her life.

Pregnancy hormones. That had to be the reason. Dallas wasn’t
normally so emotional.

“Oh, my darling.” Marina stepped inside, shut the door and
opened her arms.

Dallas, determined to be strong and remain in control, fell
apart the moment her mother said, “There, there,” and stroked her hair.

Having a shoulder to cry on was definitely better than crying
alone.

“It’s going to be okay.”

“I know.” Sniffing, Dallas pulled away and plucked a fresh
tissue from the supply in her bathrobe pocket. “It’s not like we were in love or
anything.”

Marina looked aghast. “Of course you were in love. Still are.
Anyone can see it.”

Dallas’s tears flowed anew.

This simply had to stop.

“Maybe a little in love,” she admitted in a tiny voice.

“Come on.” Her mother propelled her to the couch. “Sit. I’ll
make us some herbal tea.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.”

“It’s all ri—”

“Let me do this, darling. For both of us.”

Dallas nodded and worked on composing herself while her mother
fussed in the kitchen. When she returned a few minutes later, bearing two
steaming mugs of tea, Dallas felt marginally better.

Would she be as good a parent to her own child as Marina was to
her? Instinctively know what her child needed even when he or she didn’t?

“What are those?” Marina asked as she sat beside Dallas on the
couch.

“Proofs. For an ad. FedEx delivered them today.”

Her mom set her mug on the coffee table before picking up the
ad proofs with Conner on the mountaintop. “They’re good. You’re becoming very
skilled.”

“Thanks,” Dallas muttered around her mug, wishing the warmth
could somehow reach her chilled heart.

“He is indeed a handsome man.”

He was. She remembered seeing their reflection in the mirrored
hallway at the Phoenician, and thinking how attractive he was. How striking a
couple they made.

“Want to tell me what happened?” her mother asked gently. “More
than just ‘I made a mistake,’ which is all I got from that garbled message you
left.”

“I did make a mistake. I told him I’d talk with my associates
at the AAWA. See if they were hiring and put in a good word for him.”

“Ah.” Marina nodded in understanding.

“‘Ah?’ What’s so wrong with that? I was trying to help.”

“Yes, you were.”

“I hear a silent ‘but’ at the end of that.”

“Men like Conner are proud.”

“Tell me about it.”

“They have a hard time accepting help from others, a harder
time accepting help from a women.”

“That’s what he said.”

“It’s encrypted in their DNA. The trick we women have to learn,
if we insist on loving men like them, is to help without being obvious.”

“Is that what you do with Hank?”

Marina leaned back into the couch cushions, a satisfied grin on
her face. “I’ve become so good at it he hasn’t noticed for years now.”

Her mother must be
really
good if
Dallas hadn’t noticed it, either.

“Conner thought I was helping him find a job because I’m
embarrassed that he’s a ranch hand.”

“That’s his guilt and feelings of inadequacy talking.”

“Exactly what I said, though not in those words.”

“It’s also not entirely true.” Marina squeezed Dallas’s hand.
“Dig deep, baby girl. Be honest with yourself. Isn’t there a part of you, maybe
a small part, that wishes he had a better job?”

“Yes.” Fresh tears filled her eyes. “God, I’m awful.”

“No, you’re not. It’s natural for us to want the best for our
loved ones. For them to live up to their potential. It’s only wrong when the
reasons are selfish.”

Dallas understood what her mother was saying, not that it did
her any good now.

“I wish men were more like us.”

Marina laughed. “Do you?”

“They don’t have any problems offering us help with our
careers, and think we’re stupid if we turn them down because of pride.”

“You’re right.”

“Then there are men like Hank, who don’t want their wife to
have a career at all.”

“Dallas! How could you say such a thing?”

She exchanged a crumbled tissue for a fresh one. “Well, he made
you give up sculpting.”

“He did not! I sculpt.”

“A few pieces a year. You’re talented, Mom. You could have
become famous.”

“I don’t know about that. But even if I could have been famous,
I didn’t want it.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No.” She made sound of distress. “I don’t know where you’re
getting all these ideas about Hank.”

“You’ve always talked so...longingly about your art.”

“Because I love it. Like you love photography. You talk
longingly about that.”

“But...” Dallas gave up trying to explain.

“I quit pursuing a career as an artist to raise you and Liam,
be Hank’s wife and teach. The three most important things in my life.” Marina
tucked a lock of disheveled hair behind Dallas’s ear. “I have everything I’ve
always wanted. I don’t know why you thought differently.”