Reuniting With the Rancher (11 page)

It would be so easy, so right, and it would answer every craving she felt.

He startled her by tearing his mouth from hers. He pulled his hands from her breasts and cradled her face once again. “What’s changed?” he asked.

She felt almost sideswiped by the sudden shift in mood. It took a few seconds for his question to reach her. The way he said it left her wondering what he meant: Was he speaking to her or to himself? “Changed?”

“Holly, I still want you every bit as much as I ever did.”

She closed her eyes. “Me, too,” she admitted, wondering if her heart might hammer its way right out of her chest. She was pressed to him so intimately now, her breasts against his chest, her legs splayed to either side of his, leaving her feeling at once open and eager. She had never, ever stopped wanting him.

“So what’s changed?” he asked again. “We’re lying here striking matches in a bed of pine needles, if you get my drift. Do we really want the forest fire? Has anything changed that much? You’re leaving in less than two weeks.”

She couldn’t argue the truth of that. “One way or another, I have to go back. I still have a job.”

“Exactly. So do we want to play with this kind of fire again if nothing has changed?”

“When did you get so sensible?”

She saw him smile faintly. “I grew up,” he answered. “I think you have, too.”

“Somewhat, anyway. I know we can’t go back. I know we’re playing with fire.”

“So that leaves the question. What has changed?”

“This time,” she said slowly, “I don’t want to go back to my job.”

“Ah, damn,” he said quietly. He released her face and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. “We can’t go back in time. You said it yourself.”

“I know.”

“So it could be really stupid to set off this conflagration again. We’re older now. We need something more. Right?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I just don’t know. I’m so confused about everything.”

“Which is a good reason not to strike the matches.” She felt him draw a deep breath, but at least he didn’t let go of her. He lifted a hand and stroked her hair gently.

“I could make love to you right this minute,” he said almost roughly. “I’ve never forgotten, not an instant of it. Sometimes, when I let my mind wander, I can feel your skin against mine, feel your curves in my palms, remember the way your nipples tasted, the way
you
tasted. I can remember your moans and sighs, and damn, I miss it all. I want it again. But I’m older now and I need more than a couple of weeks. And so do you.”

“I can’t promise that.”

“Neither of us can right now. After ten years we’re practically strangers. You’re not sure which direction you want to take, and my direction is right here with sheep and goats and the land.”

Her head lowered to his shoulder, and she inhaled his unforgettable scent as deeply as she could. He was right. She was more confused than she could ever remember feeling. It would be utterly stupid to light a fire that would burn them both, especially when they both remembered how badly it had burned them last time.

She had to get her head sorted out. She had to pick a path. She had to settle on something internally one way or another. Part of her wanted to stay here, but part of her also recognized her obligations at home. Nor would she be content with a life where she wasn’t helping children.

So that left a choice between Chicago and trying to build that youth ranch here. The ranch would be a huge undertaking, and while the idea excited her, it daunted her, as well.

“I miss Martha,” she said against his shoulder. “She had more common sense in one finger than I’ll ever have.”

“I’m not sure that’s true. In a lot of ways, you’re very much like her. She just had more years of experience. But if she were here, what would you ask her?”

“Which way to turn.”

“You know what she’d say.”

“To make up my own mind. I know.” Holly sighed, then couldn’t prevent herself from nuzzling him. She turned her head until her nose touched the skin of his neck, slightly stubbled just below his jawline. He smelled so good. Just taking that aroma into her lungs swept her back to that long-ago summer.

“Holly...” His tone was somewhere between a warning and a groan.

This wasn’t good, she thought. It would be so easy to slip into the past, to feel so young again, so free, so heedless. But she wasn’t that person any longer and neither was he. And that was the danger. To try to relive that summer, no matter how wonderful, would be folly, and whatever came from it wouldn’t be based in the reality of now.

She lifted her head, propped herself on her elbows and looked down at him. His turquoise eyes looked almost smoky and were half-closed. He held very still, as if he feared a movement might push them over the edge. It might. That would not be wise.

But she rested as she was, savoring the close contact with him, realizing just how much she had missed lying with him this way, feeling his hard angles and planes against her softer curves. Not as soft as they had been back then, but still soft compared to him.

“I missed you,” she admitted quietly. “Sometimes I missed you so much I ached and wondered if I’d been a fool.”

He didn’t answer, leaving her to wonder if he’d moved from love to hate in an instant. Even though he said that he now understood, she wondered how long that understanding had taken him. How long it had been before he could forgive her for the awful things she had said, deriding him and his choices in life as going nowhere and doing nothing important.

Cruel, hateful things that she still had trouble believing had emerged from her own mouth, things that remained etched in her brain as if with acid. She could hear herself and wanted to cringe.

It had been necessary? That was an awfully generous thing for him to say. Maybe it had been. But the person she hoped she was, the person she wanted to be, wouldn’t have attacked him that way. She would have found a kinder way to sever the knot that had bound them over the summer, gentler words to explain that she had a different path to follow.

Except even now she wondered if it would have worked. She’d been open all summer about how she was going back to school and into social work. Never had she once wavered in her determination. Even that hadn’t prevented him from falling in love with her.

Or her with him, if she was honest. What else could have caused her all those tears, all that pain, after returning to school?

For all these years, they had avoided each other. He’d never come over to see Martha when Holly was visiting, and she didn’t think that was an accident. She hadn’t dropped by to find out how he was doing, nor had she asked Martha, who had seemed to figure out quickly that all mention of Cliff was off-limits.

She had built a bubble, then a wall around that summer. She had even eventually shut down her memories of it as much as possible, refusing to entertain them at all.

So what had she given up, and what had she gained? Damned if she knew anymore, but she’d been utterly certain back then.

She pushed herself up a little, brushed a light kiss on that mouth she had once known so intimately, and rolled off him, staring up into tree boughs that seemed to brush the blue sky.

It was time to answer some questions. To make some decisions. To commit, one way or another, either to returning permanently to Chicago, or to trying to build her youth camp here. That decision could not be based on Cliff. It had to be her own. Otherwise she could make herself miserable, and possibly him. They both deserved better.

“It’s odd,” she remarked.

“What is?”

“How different things look now than they did back then. That summer with you, well, that was a time and place all its own. And all the times I came back to visit Martha, I came for her. I thought this was a peaceful place, but I couldn’t see anything else here. I couldn’t see how beautiful it is. I just saw emptiness. Nothing to do.”

“Boredom?”

“Not exactly. Just...emptiness. I’m used to a pretty hectic kind of life, and there were times I thought I’d suffocate in the quiet out here.”

“Some people do feel that way,” he agreed. “We’ve got a movie theater the community had to buy to keep it open. One movie a month, sometimes two. We’ve got socials, if you’re into that, barbecues, parades, and even roadhouses if you like country dancing and want a beer. A real hotbed of entertainment.”

“I wasn’t thinking of entertainment, exactly. I was thinking more off the wide-open space. Sometimes it felt so empty it seemed oppressive.”

“Funny,” he drawled, “I feel oppressed when I go to the city. Shut in.”

She gave a little laugh and rolled over on her side to take a playful swipe at his shoulder. “You know what I mean.”

His smile faded. “No, actually I don’t. What are you trying to say?”

“I’ve changed,” she said carefully. Some things were so hard to put into words. “I don’t see emptiness here anymore. I see how beautiful it is. I even see possibilities. Like the youth-ranch idea. It seems overwhelming, but I think I could do it.”

“I’m sure you could. What you’ve done already seems pretty impressive to me. You need to talk to your psychologist friend, and then to a lawyer to find out what’s required at the minimum. Once you’ve got a clearer picture, you might feel less overwhelmed.”

“You’re probably right. At the moment, I feel like I don’t even know where to begin.” She reached out to rest her hand on his shoulder.

He sat up immediately, and she felt almost offended. But then he said, “Let’s finish eating. And let’s not strike any matches.”

She had to remind herself that he had just told her he still wanted her as much as ever, and that he’d given her a passionate kiss, before she could settle down enough to eat.

He was protecting her, she realized. Protecting both of them. Remembering the young man she had once known, who had been far more impulsive, she was impressed by how he had grown. She wondered if she had matured as much herself.

Certainly she was not the same person she had been back then. Her ideals had taken a bit of battering, and her view of human nature wasn’t quite as nice as before, but in what ways had she grown? She supposed that therein lay at least a part of the puzzle she was trying to solve.

She managed to finish the sandwich and some of the salad. By the time she stopped, she felt overly full, which gave her some idea of how little she had been eating. Twenty pounds in a year wasn’t worrisome, but it had gotten to the point that even her doctor had told her she needed to put some weight back on. Imagine hearing that from a doctor. She was more used to hearing that she could do to shed five or ten pounds.

The stubborn five or ten that never wanted to go away no matter what. Well, they were gone now.

And maybe some other things were gone with them. A certain innocence had fled a long time ago. A sense of safety...well, her job had been chipping away at that pretty steadily, she guessed. Those guys on the street had just completed the change.

“Holly?”

She tilted her face toward him. “Hmm?”

“Why did you say you don’t want to go back? Burnout? Fear? The attack?”

It was a fair question, so she gave him a fair answer. “I’m working on that. It’s a bit of everything, I guess. For some time now I’ve been wondering how effective I really am.”

“Why?”

“Because most of the time I don’t know. Cases come, cases go. People move. Other caseworkers take over if the situation changes to something they’re better trained for. I spend a lot of time wondering how much difference I’m really making. You could say I’m operating on faith that what I do makes a real difference. Occasionally I get to see that difference, but that’s rare. A lot of problems are intractable.”

He nodded, encouraging her.

“So I don’t get much of a sense of accomplishment. All these years are catching up with me, I guess. I’m starting to feel hopeless, and that’s not helpful to anyone. Then since the attack...”

“Just don’t tell me again how lucky you were.”

“But I was. A lot of people live like that. I just dipped my toes into it during my workday. Until I was attacked. Then I was well and truly
in
what these people are dealing with. Anyway, I still don’t feel safe on the streets. I went for a long time thinking that everybody in the neighborhood knew I was a social worker, and that put me in a kind of protective bubble. The worst the troublemakers ever did was make offensive comments when they saw me, but they left me alone. Then I discovered that bubble was of my own imagining.”

She looked down and realized she was twisting her hands together. “I don’t want to be a chicken. So it’s all messed up. I despair sometimes, I feel overwhelmed sometimes, I’m not sure how much good I’m doing and I’m afraid now.”

“Being afraid is sensible. Don’t think you’re a chicken. That attack was what, a year ago? You kept going on those streets. That’s not a chicken.”

“Maybe not. But it makes it all more difficult. I don’t stay late as often as I used to, so I’m sure that’s cut my effectiveness. It’s just a whole mess I need to work through. But out here... Out here I see a different way to help. If I do it right, it could be so great.”

“I’m sure it could. I need to take you over to see Cowboy.”

“Cowboy?”

“It’s what he goes by. Years ago he and his wife bought a ranch and they take in foster kids, lots of them. Some they’ve even adopted. It’s working for them. Maybe they’ll have some ideas.”

“I’d like that.”

“It may have to wait until your next trip out here. I’ll check, but I think they just left on a big family camping trip. They do it every year when school lets out.”

Man, that sounded good to her. Closing her eyes, she could easily imagine having some of her kids out here—heck, any kids—and showing them these kinds of joys. Tall grasses, big spaces, animals... Her eyes popped open. “What if I wanted my kids to ride horses? I’m not sure I could take care of them in addition to everything else.”

He chuckled. “What are neighbors for? I’m sure we could arrange trail rides for the kids. If things really go well and you have lots of kids, we’ll deal with the horse issue. One thing at a time.”