Gone Country (5 page)

Two girls from her history and math classes nodded at her they passed by, sliding into the seat opposite the hoodie wearer. A junior high couple sat two seats ahead and immediately started making out. Four guys she recognized from the lunchroom pushed and shoved each other, tossing out, “Hey, baby, we love you,” all the way to the back of the bus.

At least the spot next to her had stayed empty.

When the bus pulled out, she slipped in her earbuds and cranked her iPod, the universal leave-me-alone sign, focusing her attention out the window.

Maybe that wasn’t an obvious signal in Wyoming; she felt a tap on her shoulder.

She ignored it.

Less than thirty seconds later, a more insistent tap was followed by a loud, “Hey! I’m talkin’ to you.”

Sierra met the blue eyes of the dark-haired boy, about twelve, draped over the edge of the seat in front of her. He motioned for her to take out her earbuds. “What? Am I in your seat or something?”

“Nope. Man, you’re hot. Like really hot.”

Awesome that the elementary set thought she was dateable. But if this kid tried to cop a feel like Marin had warned, she’d deck him.

“Bet you can’t guess who I am?”

Her mind supplied
a pain in the butt
, but she said, “I have no idea.”

“Guess.”

She shook her head.

“Come on,” he cajoled. “Just one time.”

“Look, kid, I—”

“One guess,” he repeated stubbornly.

“Leave her alone, Ky,” came from the back of the bus.

Who had warned this kid off? She slowly turned.

The hoodie guy had removed his hood and was staring straight at her.

Oh hello, gorgeous.
The guy was hot…beyond words actually, with long brown hair that nearly brushed his wide shoulders and dark scruff on his cheeks. He certainly didn’t look like he belonged in high school.

“Shut it, Boone. I wasn’t talkin’ to you,” the kid in front of her retorted.

Boone? Now that was a western name.

The kid tapped her shoulder again and she forced herself to quit gawking at the beautiful Boone. “What?”

“
Now
do you know who I am?”

“Not a clue, little dude.”

He scowled. “I’m not
that
little.”

“Quit bein’ a pain in the ass, cuz. She don’t wanna play your game.”

Next thing she knew, hot Boone from the back of the bus plopped in the seat across from her and smiled.

Oh. My. God. He had a killer smile. Pure bad boy. With dimples.

“Hey. I’m Boone West. Who’re you?”

Sierra blinked.

“See? She don’t wanna talk to you neither,” the kid in front of her sneered.

That’s when she realized she hadn’t answered. “I’m Sierra.”

“Sierra…?”

“Daniels.”

“But she’s really a McKay,” the kid crowed.

“What?” echoed from about twenty people on the bus.

Great. Were they looking at her with scorn? Or envy?

“It’s what I was tryin’ to tell you. You’re my cousin.” He grinned. “I’m Kyler McKay. You can call me Ky. There are lots of our cousins on this bus.”

Wait. Boone had called Ky cuz. So did that mean…
God no. Please don’t let me be related to him
. She glanced at Boone.

He was looking at her curiously. “You’re a McKay? I thought you said your last name was Daniels?”

“It is. It’s a weird story. My dad found out a few years ago that Charlie and Vi McKay are his birth parents.”

“Ah. The long lost McKay son. I’ve heard about him.”

“You have?”

“Yep. Sundance is a small town, becomes even smaller with the West and McKay family connections.” His stunning topaz eyes roamed over her face. “But no one told me about you.”

Sierra blushed crimson.

“Well,
I
knew you were gonna be on the bus. My mama told me to keep an eye out for you so you didn’t get off at the wrong stop,” Kyler said.

“Mine did too.” Another boy the same age as Ky scooted next to him and leaned over the seat.

“And who are you?” Sierra asked.

“Anton McKay.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Our cousin Hayden is up there with the little cousins.”

“How many McKays are there?”

Kyler tapped his fingers. “On the bus? Me, Anton, Hayden, Eliza, Liesl, Peyton, Shannie, Gib, Braxton, Miles. So ten.”

“Holy shit.”

Boone laughed. “There are at least that many McKay kids that don’t go to school yet.”

Sierra blurted, “So am I related to you?”

He shook his head. “I’m related to two branches of the McKay family tree because these guys’ grandmas were Wests. But you and me? Not even distant kin.”

Thank God.

When Boone flashed her that mega-watt smile she about died. Had she really said that out loud?

“So what year are you?” he asked.

“Sophomore. You?”

“Senior. I didn’t see you around today.”

“That’s probably because you were in the principal’s office,” Ky said with a snicker.

“Don’t make me pound on you, boy. You remember the last time you mouthed off to me.”

Ky scowled at him. “Didn’t hurt
that
bad.”

Sierra bit back a smile.

Anton rallied to Ky’s defense. “What’re you doin’ up here anyway, Boone? Finding third graders to beat up?”

“Or smart-mouthed sixth graders. I’m makin’ conversation. Now turn around or I’ll tell Mrs. Craftsman you were looking down Daphne’s shirt.”

Anton blushed. But he turned around.

“So how long have you been here?” Boone asked. “I haven’t seen you around town.”

“Just since Saturday. We moved from Arizona.”

“You here for good?”

I hope not.
“Probably.”

Boone rested his forearms on his thighs and leaned closer. “You don’t seem too happy about that.”

“It’s not that. It’s just…I don’t know anyone.”

“You will soon enough, trust me. Half the school will wanna get to know you a whole lot better.”

She wasn’t sure how to take that.

The bus started to slow down. Boone tapped Ky on the shoulder. “You’ll make sure Sierra gets off at the McKay bus stop?”

“Duh.”

“The McKays have their own bus stop?” Sierra asked Boone.

“The McKays could have their own
bus
.” Boone stood and slung his backpack over his shoulder, flashing that dimpled grin again. “See ya around, McKay.” On his way down the aisle he lightly tapped his younger cousins on the back of the head. They all complained, but she could tell they were happy to have his attention.

Aware that Kyler’s and Anton’s eyes were on her, Sierra tried really hard not to check out Boone’s butt.

Maybe this riding the bus home thing wouldn’t be so bad.

Chapter Six

September…

“Now that Sierra has started her second week at school and you have everything unpacked, what will you do this week?” Rielle asked him.

“Thought I’d try to beat my high score on Grand Theft Auto,” he said with a perfectly straight face. “It’ll probably take more than a week, though.”

“Oh.”

“Then I’ll tackle Vision Quest. It’s a bitch to reach the tenth level, but once you do it’s worth it because the reward is an orgy. In full color. Better than porn. Or so I’ve heard.”

Rielle’s eyes widened. “Sounds…interesting.”

“It’s awesome to finally have all this free time. I’ve always wanted to sleep in until noon.”

“Noon?” she repeated. “That’s…”

Gavin couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Gotcha.”

She lightly smacked his arm. “Gavin Daniels, that’s just plain mean. As if I’d believe you’d lounge around all damn day playing video games. Aren’t you buying up squares of land and putting houses and hotels on them, monopolizing the market?”

“But you did believe it, Miss Up-at-the-Buttcrack-of-Dawn-Every-Morning. I thought you knew me better than that.”

“I do. You’ve blabbed all your secrets to me, remember? Since you’re constantly underfoot pestering me.”

“No, I’ve withheld a few secrets. It adds to my manly mystique.”

Rielle laughed. “As Sierra would say…you’re a dork.”

“You laughing at my jokes proves you’re equally dorky.” He reached over and brushed his fingers beneath her jawline. Her skin was so soft right there.

Rielle’s pale green eyes were enormous as his fingers moved across her jaw. “What are you doing?”

“Umm…you had flour left from this morning’s bake-a-thon,” he lied to cover up his strange compulsion to touch her.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He tried really hard not to stare at her ass as she retreated and busied herself refilling their mugs with the last dregs of coffee.

“What are you really doing today?”

“Chet and Remy West are coming by this morning to show me the tentative plans for the four-car garage they’re building.”

“Ha ha. You almost got me twice today.”

“I’m not kidding.”

A moment passed and then she demanded, “When did you decide that?”

“Last week. They’ve promised to get it done before the snow flies.”

“Where on earth are you going to put a four-car garage?”

Gavin sipped his coffee, hating that their easy banter was about to end. “On the right side of the drive. The structure will be attached to the house and be accessible—”

“Through the mudroom in the basement.” Rielle looked as if she wanted to say something else but she didn’t.

“As long as they’ll already be doing dirt work, we’re revamping the front. Since this isn’t a B&B, there’s no need for a full-sized parking lot. Adding a garage will fill the space and close it off, giving it a more residential feel, as well as adding symmetry.”

“So the barn?”

“What about it?”

“Just wondering if you were making changes to it too.”

Not just prickly, but pissy. Not that he was surprised. “The barn is new, and from what you’ve told me and what I’ve seen, largely unused.”

“You sure aren’t letting grass grow under your feet when it comes to making changes, are you?” She slapped her hands on the counter. “Speaking of grass…please tell me you don’t intend to lay sod across the entire length of the former parking lot? That’d be a serious waste of natural resources. Water is as scarce here as it is in the desert. No one has groomed lawns in the country, Gavin, not to mention the deer and turkeys will rip it up—”

He placed his fingers over her mouth. “Don’t go off half-cocked on environmental self-righteousness, hippie chick.”

“Hippie chick?” she mumbled beneath his fingers.

“I figured you’d prefer that to granola head or tree hugger.”

Rielle’s eyes darkened.

He grinned. “Ree. I was trying for levity to make this easier on both of us. Yes, I’m making changes, but not without help. I intended to ask if you had time to talk to a landscaper. You know everything about this chunk of land and I don’t. I prefer the natural look. Maintaining a manicured lawn is the last thing I’d ever do.”

She turned her head, dislodging his fingers. “I’m glad to hear you aren’t completely an urban idiot with visions of becoming a hobby farmer, calling your riding lawnmower a
tractor
.”

He murmured, “Touché.”

“If you’re serious about hiring a landscaper, I know a local guy in Spearfish who is excellent and specializes in xeriscaping.”

“I’d appreciate it. I’ll tell the West brothers we have that part handled.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that now I wish you had been telling the truth about being locked away inside playing video games.”

Gavin had no response for that as she walked away.

Dirt therapy worked better than scream therapy. Good thing because she wanted to scream her fool head off at Gavin.

The man drove her insane. Always so even-keeled. Matter of fact. Not to mention he was thoughtful, surprisingly funny and so unconsciously sweet that she just wanted to hug him.

And that annoyed the piss out of her.

The earth made a loud
ching
as the shovel blade connected with the crust. She put muscle into it, turning the soil over until dark chunks appeared. Rielle dropped to her knees and brushed the dirt from the clumps of blue fingerling potatoes. These were in high demand in recent years, so she’d filled one entire bed with just this variety. Restaurants in Casper, Cheyenne and Jackson Hole had already placed orders. The entire crop was sold before she’d harvested. That was a good feeling.

She stood and wiped her brow with the back of her glove. It was unseasonably warm for September—not that she was complaining. The longer the sun kept shining, the better the chances were the last crop of heirloom tomatoes could ripen on the vine.