Dream Chaser (16 page)

H
e
ambl
ed
over
to the kitchen door of the ranch house.
Nate handed him a hat that had seen better days, but still
held its shape. “Try this one.
Christina used to
wear
it
when she was doing chores. You
and she look to be about the same size, I ’spect.” The hat fit comfortably.

“Thanks, Curly,
for the information and the hat. I have a big sun bonnet that I’ve been using in the garden, but
I went swimming today and
I
must have missed getting sunblock on my neck
.”

“Need a ride back?”

“I’d rather walk. I’m break
ing
in these new hiking boots.”

“
Okay
. See you later.”

As she walked
she thought back to the potluck
block parties
she and her Minneapolis neighbors occasionally hosted.
Not so different from
those
except for the bidding part
, she mused. Suzanna was halfway to the cabin and skirting a small group of trees when a cloud of dust preceded the pickup Jonathan was driving. He slowed to a stop as she approached the truck.
She shaded her eyes and waved at him.

“I have some mail for you,
”
he said.

“You didn’t have to do that.”
Her
heart
skittered against her ribs.

“It was the neighborly thing to do. I see you’re wearing hikers.”

She looked down at her new purchase, now dust-covered. “Yes, I’m
try
ing them
out
before I go for another long walk.” She placed her hands on
the
edge of the truck window
and wiggled her fingers in the direction of the mail piled next to him
. “My mail?”

“I’ll deliver it to your door.” He patted the seat next to him.

He opened the door for her and waited until she climbed in
. Before she was fully settled o
n the seat, he gunned the engine and turned quickly toward the cottage. She slid across the seat
until her body, from shoulder to hip, slid against him, so solid and unmoving behind the wheel
.
From under her lashes, she glanced at the man, who seemed not to notice that they now sat so close.

“Sorry about that,” he chuckl
ed. “Hang on. T
here’s another
pot
hole
.
I’m going to have to get the boys to
patch
this road.” The truck bounced into and out of a particularly deep rut. He loo
ked over at her. The mail she’
d been holding was
now
on the floor
. “Leave it be. Y
ou’re almost home.” He pulled to a stop next to the Wrangler, went around to her side of the truck,
opened the door and began handing her the letters that had fallen to the floor.

She
remained
where she was
, aware of the heat
building
deep inside her, fueled by his proximity as she watched
him
pick up the mail scattered near her feet
. Sweat-dampened curls showed at the back of his neck near his shirt collar
.
A
s she watched the pulse faintly visible at his throat
, she imagined herself
sliding
again, this time
into his arms
,
and pressing against his chest.

When he looked up at her,
she
knew her cheeks reflected her warmth
as
she climbed
out of the truck, her mail
now
in hand.
I barely know the man. And I’m not here to get involved, certainly not with someone like him.
She caught her breath and let it out slowly, willing her heart to stop racing.

“
It’s really warm today.
Would you like a
glass
of
iced tea? O
r do you
need
to get back to the ranch house right away?”

“Do you have
any of those cookies left over from before,
to go with it?”

She grinned.
“I think I can find something.”

“Iced t
ea and something
,
it is.” He followed her into the cabin
. After she’d retrieved the pitcher of tea from the refrigerator and set out a plate of cookies on the table, he pulled out her chair for her before sitting nearby. His arm grazed hers when he reached for a cookie, and a zing of electric awareness shot into her middle
.

“I’ve been wondering.” She grabbed a cookie and nibbled on it. As the crumbs dribbled onto her plate, she felt his eyes on the top of her head as she stared down at the mess she was creating.

“What’s that?”

“Why is it you do seminars in St. Paul?” When she looked up, he was smiling.

“Doesn’t fit your idea of what a rancher does?” Before she could reply, he continued. “I have an adjunct professorship. A fancy title that means I don’t have to be there all the time, but I have responsibilities, mostly to grad students. Jamie and I have been friends since we were undergrads. He brings me in to do special presentations for his International Trade classes, things like that.”

She nodded, still unsure what it all meant. “Isn’t it ironic that I was on the main campus when you were there? Except you were probably in grad school then.”

“It’s a small world.” He folded his napkin into a tiny square then unfolded it. “A concept I try to emphasize in those seminars.” He reached forward and touched her hand, then pulled it toward him and twined his fingers through hers. “You have piano fingers.”

The warmth of his hand heated her until she thought she would break out in a sweat. He seemed to be watching to see if she would pull away, but she couldn’t. No way was she going to break that connection that was sending little shocks of awareness through her.

“My son—” His thumb began a gentle caress up and down each of her fingers. “Neil said you went to the beach often.”

“But
my
son said he didn’t remember you there.”

The smile playing about his mouth as he twined his fingers through hers seemed to thin to a more serious mien. “My children went there with their grandmother. When I came home from England with my wife, after my father’s death …” He cleared his throat and released her hand. “My mother felt two women in the same house wasn’t a good idea. The year before Neil was born, she did some traveling, met a man, and decided to move in with him.”

Oh. My. God. Is he telling me something? But that was years ago! Women didn’t do that then. Except his mother did.

“… on the East Coast. He knew someone with a house on the beach and invited her there. When the children were old enough to fly by themselves, she asked them to spend a month with her every summer. That continued until about a year before her death.”

“You raised them here? By yourself?”

“Nate and Mary, his wife, helped me. They’re good kids.”

His eyes had a warmth she wanted to drink in.

One corner of his mouth quirked upward. “And I kept them busy enough that they never got into trouble. Neil was first in his class at the Academy. Christine was less interested in her studies, but she did fine. That’s where she met Dan, at the university.”

“It must be nice to know that your children are on their own and doing well.”

“I lucked out. They could have turned out a lot different with no mother around.”

Silence surrounded her as she drank her tea and watched him do the same. He upended his glass and poured a second. “More tea?” he asked.

How could her mouth be so dry when she’d just finished her drink? She couldn’t seem to stop staring at the open neck of his Western shirt. The first two snaps were undone, revealing tanned skin where the fabric no longer covered his chest. She gulped when she realized what she was thinking, imagining what he might do if she reached over and unsnapped the others until she reached the etched silver buckle at his waist.

“Good cookies,” he said after emptying
his glass a second time
.
He leaned forward and brushed a tendril of hair off her cheek, slipping it behind her ear.

His lips were so tempting as he gazed back at her, so close to her face. If she leaned forward …
What am I thinking? This is crazy!
Instead, she slid back from the table, trying to quell the crashing of her heart against her ribs.

He straightened in his chair then stood up. “I guess I’d better be going.”

“Thanks for bringing
the mail,
”
she said as he strode back to the truck.

“Any time.” He waved and gunned the engine before turning sharply, leaving a dust trail in his wake.

“Maude
,” she murmured. “Do you suppose I could change my preference
from a school
teacher who likes books to a rancher who has lots
of them?” Then s
he
laughed
.

Chapter 8

“Penny? Can you hear me?”

“Where
are
you, Mother?”

Wishing her daughter would lose the whine, Suzanna replied, “I’m at the library. How are you?”

“When are you coming home? It’s already July! You’ve been gone almost … How long has it been, Kevin? Since mid-April.”

“Mom,” Kevin’s deep voice sounded. “Did you see Yellowstone, like you planned?”

Suzanna laughed into the phone. “The gates were closed and I’m way too busy for that now.”

“Mother. You said in your last letter that you bought new jeans. Aren’t you eating right?” Penny asked.

“I’m eating just fine.” Suzanna looked at her arms, now tanned from the sun. “And my hair’s long enough to pile on top of my head when I’m outside. Some days, it’s too hot on my shoulders.”

“You’ve never worn your hair that long. Daddy wouldn’t—”

Not that again.
“Penny, I like it this length,” Suzanna interrupted.

Kevin must have taken the phone from his sister. Suzanna heard muffled words exchanged. “What are you doing that keeps you so busy, Mom?”

“I’ve started a little garden and I help the librarian a few days a week. I always wanted to work in a library.” She paused to catch her breath. “And I’m going to a fund-raiser soon.”

“It sounds like fun. Just a minute, Penny wants the phone.”

Suzanna waited, hoping Penny would say something positive.

“Mother, what are you going to wear? Do you have something other than jeans?”

“Bozeman has nice stores. I bought a few things after I got here.”

“Oh.” Penny seemed at a loss for words.

Suzanna pursed her lips. Penelope the clothes horse wasn’t here to cluck her tongue at her mother’s choices. “I need to go. I’ll write you all about it.”

She hung up the phone, happy to have spoken to her son and daughter, in spite of Penny’s tone.
I have to talk to her about that.

The night of the fund-raiser, Suzanna decided to wear her
sundress
,
a green
print with beading at the neck. She thought it worked perfectly with the
ballet flats she’
d picked up on her last trip to Bozeman, and a light
shawl in case the wind came up.
“No braids tonight,” she mur
mured to herself
a
s
she brushed her hair
un
til it shone.
She pinned her hair
off
her face, attaching a small silver barrette at the back.

She put the finishing touches on her large basket, to which she tied a
green
bow
in a shade similar to her dress. A
foil-wrapped
plate of newly frie
d chicken sat on top of the holder containing a
stil
l-warm deep dish apple pie. Next to it she tucked
a small bowl of
chilled
wild rice with
tiny pieces of fruit and slivered almonds
.
She
tuck
ed
two wine glasses into the basket
next to the napkins and silverware
.
The
top of a split of
white
wine poked
out
from under the red-edged white tea towel
covering
the food.

“I expect you to guard against
little
four-footed intruders
, Sam. You know the ones
.” She signaled him to go back
into
the
living room
, where he lay down and placed his head on his front paws
. Then she climbed into the Wrangler
.

Her eagerness to help with
the
library
fund
-
raising
conflicted with her anxiety about
meet
ing new people,
unsure how well she would fit in with the ranching crowd.
Would the people be like Maris, or Emma?
After parking the Jeep, she
approached
the front table, where the Sheriff’s wife and
two
of her daughters were arranging the goodies.

“Hm
m
, now that smells good
! With
wine, too.” Curly grinned
at her
as he sniffed Suzanna’s basket. “I’ve got
Rachel
’s.” He walked along with Suzanna, carrying his wife’s contribution.
“Whoever buys your basket is going to be happy.” He smiled at Suzanna when he headed
toward the
men gathered near a large ice-filled bucket holding bottles of beer and cans of soda
.

Abigail approached Suzanna. “Glad to see you made it. Does anyone special know
about
your basket?”

“No
.
I thought if no one else bid on it, I would share it with Emma. She told me she wasn’t going to bring anything this year.”

“I wouldn’t plan on sharin’ it with her if I were you. One of those men over there has probably already spotted it. My nose tells me you’ve got fried chicken in there.” She waved in the general direction of some of the Circle K hands clustered around Jonathan and
Rachel
, who was laughing and pointing to her basket.

Suzanna took a seat off to the side to observe the auction of the covered baskets.
One woman squealed
and kissed the
young man
who
successfully bid on her basket. They moved off arm in arm to sit at a table set up for the purpose. Curly was first to bid on his wife’s contribution.

“Two bucks!” he shouted
.

His
wife playfully punched him in the chest. “Is that all my supper is worth?” The people nearby laughed.

Jonathan whispered something in
Rachel’s
ear, and raised five fingers.

“Is that five bucks, fifty, or five hundred, Jonathan?” asked the auctioneer.

“Five dollars
.
” Jonathan chuckled.

Curly moved the bidding up again, followed by one of the other hands, and someone from the Bar Z raised the stakes to
twenty dollars
.

“Better not let Seth take that food away from you, Curly, or you’ll be sleepin’ in the barn tonight,” deadpanned Sheriff Raines.

Curly upped the ante to
thirty dollars
. When no one offered another bid, he wiped imaginary sweat from his brow, grabbed the basket, and escorted
Rachel
to a table to a smattering of applause.

Bill Ames received
high fives
when his bid topped
fifty dollars
for Kittie’s basket. She raised a thumb in Jonathan’s direction. “Thanks for shaming him into raising the ante
,
”
she said.

He tipped his hat in
her direction
.

Several other dinners were sold before Suzanna’s basket was
held
up for all to see.
“My, my,” the auctioneer
said
.
“Smells like fried chicken in here.” He peeked under the tea towel.
“And a pie of some sort, too. Wonder if it’s apple.”
Then he pointed to the top of the wine bottle. “This is the second one with wine. What’s the first bid?”

“Twenty bucks,” Bill Ames shouted from near the tables where others were already eating. “Tit for tat, Jonathan,” he quipped, to laughter of those around him.

“Thirty,” said Jonathan
, his voice quietly intense
.

“What was that you said, Mr. Kingsley?” the auctioneer taunted.

Before he could repeat his bid, Curly shouted “Forty!” His bald head shone in the la
n
t
ern light
near the tables.

“Fifty,” Jonathan
counter
ed.

Abigail sidled over to Suzanna. “Looks like your basket is going to bring in a bunch of money.” She grinned. “I know for a fact Jonathan likes wine.”

“How high do you think the boss’ll go, Nate?” Randy asked. Before the old man replied, the young cowboy shouted out, “Fifty-five!”

“Sixty.
” Jonathan
’s
face
was
inscrutable under his hat.

“Sixty-five!” Caleb
turned red when Jonathan
looked his way
.
Silence followed.

“Going once,” said the auctioneer. “Going twice. Caleb, get ready to eat hearty!”

“Come on, Jonathan, you’re not going to let your youngest hand beat you out of that meal, are you?” Abigail
teas
ed.

“Seventy-five,” Jonathan raised his voice over the laughter.

“Sold,
for the princely sum of seventy-five dollars,” the auctioneer announced, and handed the basket to Jonathan.

He ambled over to Suzanna. “Shall we find a table?” He helped her out of her chair.
“H
mm. It does smell tasty
.” He removed the towel covering the food.

Suzanna picked up the bottle to unwrap the cork.

“Let me.” Jonathan uncorked the bottle and poured her a glass.

“
Did
you know it was mine
? Or
did you simply want fried chicken and wine?” Suzanna asked.

With his hand on one of the drumsticks, he turned to her. “A little bird told me.
That’s how it works, you know.”
He bit into the drumstick
, avoiding her eyes
.

They ate in silence, half-listening to the conclusion of the bidding. Before long,
four
musicians walked onto the raised area where the auctioneer had stood. More lights around the picnic area were turned on.
Soon, a
line
dance was
announced
and several couples got up to form
the lines
. She and Jonathan watched
the first two dances
. Suzanna stood and began to gather up the dirty plates.

“You don’t need to do that,” Emma protested.
“I’m part of the clean-up committee.” She shooed Suzanna back to the table. “Pretty dress,” she complimented before moving on.

The music changed and a slow dance began. “One of my favorites,” Jonathan remarked. “Care to dance?” He held out
a
hand to Suzanna.

“I wasn’t thinking…
” she began.

“You don’t have to think, just dance.” He put his arm around her. “Relax, I won’t bite.” He pulled her a bit closer. After a while, “I guess that’s just the cowboy in me,” he
half-sang, half-whispered along to the music
.

“I am relaxed,” she said, not wanting to admit how stiffly she was holding herself. She looked to the si
de. No one seemed to notice her
except Abigail, who was grinning Cheshire
Cat
-like
to
one side of the dance area.

Curly cut in, and Jonathan moved over to stand near Emma and Abigail.

“Nice night.
” He pushed his hat to the back of his head.

His distant cousins
nodded.

The dancers clapped and then the musicians began to play a slow waltz.
“My turn,”
Jonathan
said to Curly, who grinned and brought his wife out to the dance floor.

“Curly’s a nice man.” Suzanna looked
up
at Jonathan, not quite sure what to talk about. When was the last time she had danced? With the captain on the cruise?

“He is that.”
Minutes later, Jonathan asked,
“Want to try a square dance?”

“I don’t know how.”

“It’s easy.
You just do what the caller says.” When the square dance was called, he placed her next to him on one side of the square.
By the tim
e it was over, her face was red
and she bowed out, saying she needed to sit down.

“You looked good out there.” Emma sat down next to Suzanna.

“It’s a bit more v
igorous than I thought it would be.” She watched as Jonathan joined another square, squiring the Sheriff’s plump wife around the floor.

Emma leaned toward Suzanna.
“
We
raised over three thousand dollars tonight. That means we can get the roof repaired and have
some
money left over for
the children’s c
orner.”