Just Once (34 page)

It’s a Saturday and the guests are gone, so Shane and I are going to town for our first official date. He’s begged me to wear “that damn fantasy dress,” meaning the green one, which I am. Now I’m upstairs with Lisa, who helps me curl my hair and paint my nails.

“God,” I say, staring at my shiny red toes. “I can’t remember the last time I had a pedicure.”

“Was your life super glamorous?” she asks enviously.

I smile. “Sometimes.”

“Did you meet any celebrities?”

“A couple.”

“Have you ever been in a private jet?”

“Yes.”

She flops back onto the bed in mock devastation. “I’m so jealous.”

“It was pretty cool.”

“You must miss it. Are you excited to go back to your real life?”

I open my mouth, then close it when I realize I don’t have an answer. Or maybe I do. “I like it here,” I say finally. “I’m not ready for it to be over yet.”

“Because you have a boyfriend?”

“That’s part of it. How about you? Are you excited to go back?”

“Yep. Did I tell you I changed schools?”

“You did? I thought you wanted to go to UVA.”

“I thought I did too. But now I don’t. Janie’s going there, and I’m going to do something different. I got in some other places, and Texas State still had a spot for me.”

“That’s great.”

“I’m excited. It’s about time I tried something new.”

“You’re eighteen. You have lots of time for new things.”

Lisa shrugs. “Why wait?”

I can’t argue with her reasoning, so I just hold up a hank of hair to give her curling iron access to the pieces underneath. I remember the days when “trying something new” meant a new cocktail or new lipstick. I gradually upgraded to new restaurants, new hotels, and new countries, and now, evidently, a new life. Not the one I imagined myself living, but I’m not complaining.

With nails gleaming and my hair bouncy and shiny, I twirl in a circle for Lisa’s approval (granted) and make my way downstairs. Shane has parked one of the lodge trucks next to the bunkhouse, and he leans against it, watching my descent. The last time I did this he was standing next to the Airstream, and I was smiling at Kevin Drew. Now I turn that smile on Shane, who looks me up and down, face impassive.

He shrugs. “You’ll do.”

“That’s sweet.”

He opens the door and helps me in, swatting my ass on the way. “I know.”

I’m starving by the time we get to town. Shane made reservations at a fancy Italian place on Main Street, and heads turn as we make our way to the corner table.

“Did you see that?” I whisper when we’re seated. “Those woman were gawking at you.”

“I didn’t notice.” He shrugs. “I was too busy staring down all the men ogling you in that damn dress.”

“You like this dress.”

“Damn right I do.” He gives me that devastating grin, and I smile back. This is only the second time I’ve seen Shane in a suit, and he looks great. Black jacket, black pants, open neck white shirt—and no work boots. He’s a sight.

The server arrives with our menus and water, and I order a bottle of wine, testing and approving it once it’s poured. When the server leaves I see Shane watching me, amused. “What?”

“That,” he says, mimicking flicking his wrist and swirling imaginary wine in an imaginary glass. “You’re so fancy.”

“Please. That’s how it’s done.”

“You would know.”

I shrug. “Just drink it.”

“Do you like this place?”

“The restaurant? Yes, it’s nice.”

“Nice enough?”

“For what?”

“For you.”

“Shane.”

“What? Answer the question.”

“Yes, it’s nice enough. I’d be happy anywhere with you.” I shoot him a look. “You’re not trying to pick a fight, are you? Because the truck keys are in my purse. You’re the one who’ll be walking back.”

He smiles. “I was just thinking about the places you’ve been. They’re so much better than anything you’ll find here.”

I sigh inwardly. “You can’t be a travel writer if you’re constantly wishing you were somewhere else,” I tell him. “You have to live in the moment, be where you are, and enjoy it. Otherwise it’s wasted. And I happen to love where I am right now. Satisfied?”

His dark eyes glow. “Yeah.”

I return my gaze to the menu, but I’m barely registering the words. All afternoon I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell Shane the ranch is for sale, but his preoccupation with our imagined “class difference” makes discussing finances an unpleasant proposition.

The server returns and we order, then stare at each other when he leaves.

“So,” I say.

Shane arches that brow. “So?”

“I was talking to Stanley today, and he told me the old woman living above us died.”

“You two live together?”

“No, we’re neighbors, but the penthouse is above us, so technically we share an upstairs neighbor.”

“How’d she die?”

“Food poisoning.”

“You think Stanley did it?”

I laugh. “I wouldn’t put him past him. He’s been wanting to buy that place and turn his apartment into a two-story mega-palace for years.”

“Will he?”

“He wants me to invest with him. Maybe divide the penthouse into two, then convert both our apartments into two-story units.”

“Why does he need you?”

I shrug, uncomfortable. “Because it’s expensive.”

“Isn’t he rich?”

I shrug again. “Sort of.”

Shane clues in. “But not as rich as you.”

“It would just be easier with two people, that’s all.”

Shane leans back in his seat. “Are you a millionaire?”

I stare at him in surprise. “I—”

“I’m not asking how much. Just…are you?”

Finally I nod, watching his face grow tense. “The book helped.”

“And you grew up rich? In New York?”

“Yes.”

“Must be nice.”

“It’s not something I can change, Shane.”

“I’m not blaming you. It’s just…different. You’re like one of the guests instead of the workers.”

I roll my eyes. “If one of the guests cleaned everybody else’s bathroom.”

That drags a smile out of him. “Yeah.”

“You really think I’m different? Stuck up? I thought we were past that.”

His foot finds my leg under the table and strokes my calf reassuringly. “We’re past it. I was just wondering.”

After dinner we stroll around downtown. I window shop, but Shane pretends to faint at the mere idea of actual shopping, so I don’t go into any stores. I don’t think I’d want to buy anything with him around, anyway. He nearly bit off my head when I offered to split the dinner bill. Financial discussions are temporarily off the table.

“Hey,” he says when we’re driving home.

“Hey yourself.” It’s closing in on eleven o’clock, and because Shane is driving, I was forced to drink most of the wine by myself. My eyes have been closed for the past ten minutes.

“Want to do something?”

I crack open an eye. “Like what?” I half expect him to reach over and hike up my skirt, but instead he pulls the truck over, stopping near a small bridge that spans a wide part of the river below.

“Get out.”

Shane climbs out of the truck and I do the same, taking his offered hand and following him onto the bridge in the darkness. There’s a full moon tonight, and I watch its reflection shimmer on the rushing water twenty feet below.

“Very pretty,” I say, because I don’t know what he wants me to see. Or say. Or do.

“Let’s jump.”

“What?”

“Let’s jump in the river.”

“I like you, but not enough to form a suicide pact.”

“You’re hilarious. Everyone jumps here. It’s tradition. The water’s deep, and there’s a path to climb back up through the rocks. Let’s take off our clothes and jump.”

I’m not about to tell Shane this, but I’ve said those words more than twice—fine, four times—before. But those days are behind me, wobbling around drunkenly on high heels, making stupid decisions, being foolish. I know better now.

“Let’s not,” I say.

“Why?”

“Because. It’s crazy. Let’s just go back to the ranch.” I try to return to the truck, but Shane’s got an iron grip on my hand.

“It’ll be fun.”

“I’m not that person anymore,” I protest.

“What person? A fun one?”

“A reckless person. A let’s-take-off-our-clothes-in-public person.”

“I like reckless Kate. I like striptease, Janie-battling, bat-saving Kate.”

“Those Kates were not supposed to follow me to this ranch.”

“Let them out.” He kisses the tip of my nose and removes his suit jacket. “Come on. I’ve never jumped before. Jump with me.”

“I’ll wait up here.”

“I’ll hold your hand.”

“I’m not worried about drowning!” Actually, with most of a bottle of wine in my system, perhaps I should be.

“Please?” He turns those dark eyes on me, only for once they’re pleading, not demanding.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Katharine Burke, would you please take off your clothes and jump off a bridge with me? You’d be my first.”

I snort with laughter. “This sort of thing is supposed to be in my past.”

“Why?”

“Because,” I say, faltering. “It just is.”

Shane shucks the rest of his clothes until he’s left in only his black boxer briefs. “Don’t make me jump alone,” he says.

I sigh and unzip my dress. “You’re a terrible influence.”

One minute later we’re standing on the edge of the bridge, fingers entwined, staring down at the dark water below. “You’re sure it’s safe?” I ask again.

“I’m sure.”

“And you’re not too scared?”

Shane shoots me a look. “One. Two. Three.”

We jump. I scream the whole way down. Shane will deny that he screamed too, but I know what I heard.

We hit the water and plunge deep, our hands coming apart. I hold my breath and wait until my momentum slows, never touching the bottom, then swim back up. I break the surface and look around for Shane. Nothing.

“Shane?” I whisper.

Suddenly he surfaces behind me, shaking his head like a dog, water droplets flying. “Awesome!” he exclaims, beaming. I see the moonlight glint off his teeth. “That was amazing!”

I can’t help but smile back. “Do you feel better now?”

“Hell yes,” he says, pulling me close and kissing me thoroughly. “I feel fucking
reckless
.”

Chapter Twenty-One

A
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, I’m a huge coward who can’t tell her boyfriend his beloved ranch is going to be sold to callous strangers. Every time the subject of money comes up he gets so…testy. And I don’t want to fight anymore. I like getting along with Shane. It turns out that under that strong, silent exterior lies a halfway-decent personality and even a teeny-tiny sense of humor.

A few days later I visit his trailer after lunch service has finished and knock on the door. No answer. He gave me a key a little while ago, so I let myself in and sit down with one of the gossip magazines Lisa picked up on her last trip to town. Four divorces and one affair later, I look at the clock. We agreed to hang out this afternoon, and Shane is late, which is very unlike him. Just as I start to wonder where he might be, the man of the hour strolls in.

“Hey,” he says, kissing me on top of the head and pulling a bottle of water out of the small refrigerator.

I set the magazine aside. “Hey. Where have you been?”

“On the phone.”

“Come again?” It’s next to impossible to picture Shane doing something as mundane as speaking on the phone.

He gives me a meaningful look and downs half the bottle.

“Are you parched?” I ask. “Did you get in touch with your inner chatterbox?”

“Actually,” he says, finishing the water, “someone got in touch with me.”

“Who would want to talk to you?”

Shane drops down next to me on the couch. The arm he slings around my neck is a little tighter than is strictly necessary, making me laugh. “Stanley,” he answers.

I try to straighten, but he keeps my head pinned to his chest. “Stanley?”

“Yep. Your good friend Stanley Goldblatt.”

“What did he want?”

“He wanted to know when he could expect you back in Boston.”

“What did you say?”

“I figured September. Right?”

The thought makes me sad, but I keep my voice neutral. “Right.”