Cowboys are Forever (4 page)

He removed his hat and raked his fingers through his hair. “Maybe not. But that doesn’t alter the fact that you just can’t do it. You can’t make it here.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“Lots of reasons. Hell, you’re a city woman. Your grandmother was raised here; she knew what to do and how to do it. She was tough. “He inspected Marielle again from head to toe. “You’re not.”

“I might be tougher than you give me credit for,” she said angrily. “And as far as not making them like my grandmother anymore … how do you know? Are you so far above the rest of us mere mortals that you have the ear of the Almighty and know how we’re all made?” Marielle rolled her eyes. “Give me a break.”

“Tough?” he scoffed. “You? You’re parading around here looking like you just stepped out of a Victoria’s Secret catalog. You’ve already nearly broken your leg.” He eyed her lower limbs in a way that set Marielle’s pulse pounding. “You’ll never last the winter up here. Face it. If you’d take some well-meant advice—”

“Well-meant?” she broke in. “You want this place. You’ve already said so. Of course you don’t want me to stay.” Marielle limped to the door and flung it open. “But I’m staying. So … get used to it.”

Marielle watched as Trey strode out the door. Needing to take out her feelings on something, she slammed it hard. To her chagrin, one of the glass panes in the top half of the old door shattered and fell in pieces at her feet. Jumping back, she narrowly escaped being cut. She saw Trey hesitate in his progress across the yard to his truck, then he went on. Thank heaven for small mercies, she thought, imagining the kind of smart remark he’d undoubtedly make about this latest mishap.

Wearily, she made her way to the bedroom and crawled between the sheets, glad that she’d gone ahead and made the bed up earlier. Tired as she was, her turbulent thoughts kept her from feeling sleepy.

The nerve of the man, she fumed silently. She gave her pillow a vicious punch and tossed restlessly, too agitated to find relief in peaceful lumber. He was so maddeningly sure that she couldn’t make it here.

So complacent in his assumptions about her. It was infuriating. She recalled his dark good looks and drop-dead sexy eyes and felt doubly upset because of the undeniable physical attraction she felt towards him.

He felt it too. She’d sensed it and seen it in his eyes when he looked at her. She chuckled, thinking of his confusion upon finding her dressed for bed. He hadn’t been too calm and collected then. It was nearly worth the embarrassment of getting caught half naked by him just to see him lose his cool.

She nibbled her lower lip, deep in thought. Still, wouldn’t be a good idea to be thrown into a situation like that with him again. It caused her to think things that she didn’t need to be thinking. Like how it would feel to be in his arms. Or how good his lips would feel on hers. Or how—down, girl, she admonished herself. Don’t even go there.

Besides, she knew his type: chauvinistic to the core. He’d already made that plain by his scornful reaction when she’d announced her plans to live here and run this ranch. He might enjoy a no-strings-attached dalliance with her. But she’d be just another little honey to warm his bed at night. He wouldn’t take her seriously as a person in her own right, someone capable and competent to do most of the things that he did every day.

She had made up her mind before leaving New York that she’d do whatever it took to make her dreams come true. Manage the ranch, illustrate children’s books, live the life she’d always wanted—and have the satisfaction of knowing that she’d accomplished those things for herself.

Marielle knew all too well what could come of a woman being too dependent on a man.

After her dynamic, extroverted father had died suddenly of a heart attack ten years ago; her mother had been completely helpless. She had relied on her husband to make all decisions, handle the finances, tell her what to cook and what to wear, even which programs to watch on television.

With Dad gone, Mom had turned to Marielle, depending on her daughter to pick up where her husband had left off and take care of every detail of her entire existence. Marielle had tried to get her mother to assume some responsibility for her own affairs. She’d even suggested counseling. But eventually she’d had to resign herself to being her mother’s keeper.

Thankfully, this state of affairs had ended with Mom’s unexpected remarriage several months ago. Marielle smiled, remembering her shock when her mother had introduced her to Bill and announced their intentions to wed. Shock had turned to relief when she’d gotten to know the quiet, gentle man who’d fall in love with her mother. He’d been willing and eager to take the reins and take care of Mom.

Curious as to how her mother had met him, since the older woman rarely left the house or yard or participated in social activities, Marielle had asked and been amused to find out that he delivered the mail. Considering all the single women who bought books on how to meet men, she had to laugh. Maybe they out to check out their mailmen, meter readers, and what-have-yous. It worked for Mom.

She’d found a husband without even having to leave the house!

They seemed blissfully happy together and Marielle was glad. But she was determined never to allow herself to become a clinging vine, needing a man so much she couldn’t function without him. No doubt that was why it was so important to her to make it up here, she thought. Between losing her job and her boyfriend, her self-esteem was shot. Even though she knew it wasn’t rational, she’d felt rejected and diminished as a person. Perhaps she needed to prove something to herself, she mused. And it was going to take more than Trey Masterson’s opinion to discourage her.

Trey left Marielle’s place and drove the short distance to his own ranch. Pulling up in front of his two-story log home, he glanced over at the bunkhouse and noted that all the lights were out. The hands had turned in early, he thought. He guessed they had a right to be tired. They’d ridden many miles of fences the past few days, replacing posts and restring wire when necessary. He’d ridden with them, not so much to supervise their work, but just because he liked to plan an active role in running the ranch.

He went inside and got ready to turn in for the night himself. He was exhausted, although he loved to ride and enjoyed the camaraderie of the men who worked for him. He also enjoyed the good lunches Consuelo, his cook and housekeeper, packed for them when they stayed out all day working. She’d worked for his family for years, and had appointed herself his unofficial mother after his parents had been killed when the engines had failed in their small private Cessna.

Trey knew that he was lucky to have her. And Bandy. He smiled thinking of his elderly foreman. Bandy was a character. Like Consuelo, he’d lived most of his lift right here on this ranch. He’d come to work here for Trey’s dad as a teenager—fresh out of school and wanting nothing except to be a ranch hand.

He’d proven his worth many times over during the years and Trey considered the older man invaluable. For a while he’d worried about Bandy’s increasing age and had been afraid that the work would soon be too demanding for someone of his foreman’s years. His doubts had been groundless so far. He chuckled. In fact, Bandy could still ride all day, dance all night on the rare occasions they painted the town, and work circles around the rest of them the next day. Bandy claimed that he was tough as rawhide and Trey believed him.

Trey sat down on the side of the bed and toed his boots off. His thoughts once again drifted to Marielle. He shook his head. Whew! When he’d walked up to the porch and seen her sitting there in that flimsy short gown—well, he hadn’t reacted like that to the sight of woman’s body since he looked at his first pin-up magazine back in high school.

Whatever else she might be, the woman was breathtakingly beautiful. And she had literally taken his breath away when he saw her like that. He envisioned the scene again and savored the memory. Her glorious mane of blazing red hair had streamed around her bare shoulders and tumbled down her nearly naked back. In the light of the moon, which cast a blue-white incandescence over all it touched, her pale skin had gleamed with a pearly shimmer. Her huge, emerald green eyes had been glowing, illuminated by the soft radiance of the moonbeams.

He swallowed, his mouth dry as dust and his groin tightening, just thinking about her. He’d never felt such instantaneous, powerful lust in his entire life. His body had responded to the sight of hers in ways that had been difficult to hide. He’d had to turn away, shielding himself as best he could from her view, to hide the bulge in his jeans. God! He’d make a damned fool of himself—stammering and stuttering like a moonstruck adolescent.

And touching her … feeling that soft, silky skin, he’d been seized by a nearly uncontrollable urge to crush her slender body to him and kiss her senseless. Among other things. Things that he’d better not dwell on, he told himself, or he wouldn’t get a wink of sleep tonight. He’d lie awake for hours thinking about Marielle. Not good. Because he knew it could never happen. No matter how tempting he found her body, she was not for him.

Still, his wayward thoughts turned once again to the beautiful redhead who’d inherited Dan’s ranch. He pictured her full, moist lips. They looked as though they’d been stained by rich red wine. He imagined tasting that sweetness, drinking his fill of her and then … .damn!

Trey put the brakes on his lecherous thoughts and headed for the shower, determined to put Marielle out of his mind. He needed to get some sleep. He had a full day’s work ahead of him again tomorrow. As he stepped into the shower, he turned the cold water on full force and gasped as the icy, stinging spray assaulted his body. May as well get used to it, he thought grimly. He had a feeling if he spent much time around her he’d be taking a lot of cold showers.

Marielle woke to sunlight streaming in her bedroom window. She yawned and stretched luxuriously. Despite her turbulent thoughts the night before, she’d slept soundly in Granny’s big feather bed. She threw back the bedclothes and got up, anxious to meet the new day. Her first day in her new home! She could hardly wait to get outside and explore the property. She wanted to check out the things she remembered: the barn, orchard, and outbuildings, the garden, pastures and last but not least, the small lake where Granny and Uncle Dan had taken her swimming when she’d visited here.

She dressed quickly in cut-off jeans and a short-sleeved denim shirt. Though the morning air was a little chilly, Marielle decided that the walk would warm her up. She pulled on a pair of thick socks and her comfortable short hiking boots that she’d worn all day for shopping back in New York. Grinning as she brushed her hair and fastened it with a clip at the nape of her neck, she thought about how different her life would be from now on. Finishing her morning toilette in record time, she headed for the kitchen.

A pot of coffee was soon perking busily. She munched a granola bar while she waited for it to be finished. As soon as she’d poured a cup of the steaming brew, she went out onto the front porch to drink it. Marielle inhaled deeply, taking an appreciative whiff of the morning air, fragrant with the piney scent of giant evergreens. She made a mental note to always drink her coffee out here, weather permitting.

Unable to wait any longer to look around, Marielle took a second cup of coffee with her on her explorations. Cup in hand, she wandered down to the barn and stepped inside. The interior of the weathered wood building was dark and cool, and smelled of hay and horses. She’d have to ask Trey if Uncle Dan had a horse stabled somewhere. She’d need one up here. She’d learned to ride during her visit, but that had been over 20 years ago. She hoped the knack would come back to her. Surely it would, she told herself optimistically. Maybe it was like riding a bicycle—once you learned, you never forgot.

Marielle glanced up at the dim recesses of the barn loft. She’d spent many happy hours up there as a ten-year-old, playing make-believe and petting the barn cats. Seeing a ladder that led to the loft propped against the wall, she impulsively decided to climb up and take a peek. After testing the wooden ladder, she began her ascent and soon reached the top rung and looked around. Loose hay still covered the floor of the loft. She remembered how soft and fragrant it was and recalled taking a nap up there one lazy afternoon.

Hearing a sound, she listened closely, trying to identify it. There it was again. A kind of squeak. She scanned the rafters, looking for bats. To her relief, she didn’t see any winged bodies hanging upside down or anything flying around. A mouse, perhaps? Marielle caught movement from a billowy mound of hay and watched intently as a tiny black-and-white kitten poked its little pink nose out and stared at her. It squeaked again.