Any Man of Mine (4 page)

Steve's noxious grin showcased his crooked and missing teeth. He glanced at James again, seemingly satisfied that nothing was going to happen in that quarter.

“Yeah,” he said. “I think I will.” Then he turned and strode away, still weaving, but clearly feeling in charge of his world.

I drew in a long, slow breath, trying to assimilate what Steve had told me. Chip should have let me know he was seeing Juanita.

“That was close,” James said, patting me on my shoulder. “Do you have to deal with guys like this all the time?”

“Once every two months.” I felt another flicker of disappointment. I wished he would have let me lean against him—get some support for my wobbly legs.

“He's pretty intimidating.” He put his hands on
my shoulders. “You didn't seem the least bit scared of him.”

“And the Oscar goes to…” I quipped. “I've learned that to show fear around these characters is to give them an edge. They're bullies, is all. I have to stand up to them. I'm glad you were here.”

“I wish I could have done more, but I sensed that provoking him was not a good idea.”

“You're right,” I said. He had done exactly the right thing. Who knows what would have happened if Steve, slightly drunk and probably stoned, had decided to take up a challenge from James?

Yet why did I feel vaguely disappointed that James hadn't been more forceful?

James smiled down at me. “You're quite a woman, Danielle Hemstead,” he said, sounding genuinely impressed.

“Just doing my job,” I quipped, trying not to pay so much attention to how I could feel the warmth of his hands through my thin sweater and how I wished he would pull me close against his chest.

“I admire you for that.” He squeezed my shoulders once again, then looked back over his shoulder. “Do you want to keep walking, or should I bring you back to your car? We don't want to run into that Steve guy again.”

Steve was a bully. He had made his point so wouldn't be around for a while, but it would be a good idea not to take any chances. “Better walk me back to my car,” I said with a look of regret.

As we strode back to our cars, we were both quiet. I wondered if James, who was enamored with Schubert's brusque and leisurely melodies, was put off by the seamier side of my job.

We got to my car without incident. I pulled my keys out of my purse, disappointed to see that my hands were shaking. “Are you sure you don't want a ride home?” he asked gently.

“No. I'll be fine.”

Besides, my brothers were probably hanging around and I didn't want them to meet James. Yet.

“I had a wonderful time,” he said after I got into the car. “I'd like to see you again.”

Relief lifted my heart. I could do this again. “That would be nice.”

“I'll call you tomorrow,” he said. He bent over and for a moment I thought maybe he would kiss me. Instead he touched my hair with his hand, then straightened, and pushed the door closed.

As I drove away I could see him watching me. Then I turned a corner and he was gone.

He wants to see me again, I thought, as the memory of his good looks and his good smile sang through me on the drive home. I wished our evening could have been longer. I wished he could have driven me home.

It started raining by the time I pulled up behind Neil's truck. Thankfully, Chip and Jace were gone or I would have had to maneuver past their trucks, as well in my mad dash to the house. I stepped inside
the house, shivering. The house was quiet. Dad was most likely in bed.

The papers that had been strewn all over the living room floor were gone and the furniture was all in its proper place.

Had someone come here to visit? Before I left, Neil and Jace had decided to oil their tack. Of course this had to be done in the living room so they could multitask—watch television and apply leather conditioner oil at the same time.

Out of curiosity, I checked the kitchen. The plates, though not in the dishwasher, were at least stacked on the counter.

I was immediately suspicious. The boys had never, ever, in all the years I have known them, bothered to so much as move plates from the table to the counter, let alone stack them up.

Those boys were up to something. Had to be. But what?

 

“My schedule has me busy up until late tonight—” James's deep voice was telling me over my office phone. I was on my lunch break so I had no guilt attached to his phone call. “—however, Saturday would work into my agenda.”

I winced at his last word. There was
no
way I was going to let my brothers meet James until I knew exactly where I stood with him. My mind skipped back to Rodney, a previous boyfriend whom I had dated for a month before my brothers
caught wind of the relationship and insisted that they meet him.

He had come for supper and afterward my brothers had taken him on a tour of the yard and gotten his new leather loafers dirty. When he'd come back, he was a changed man.

We'd gone out on one more date after that, but the poor guy was kind of jumpy. Then, he stopped calling. I found out from Chip afterward what had happened.

After the tour of the yard, my brothers had sat him down on a straw bale in the old hip-roof barn and told him I had taken tae kwon do and knew how to handle a pistol. They made me sound like a cross between Thelma and Louise on their worst day.

So sweet my brothers were. So considerate. They told me they wanted to make sure Rodney knew I could take care of myself.

“Saturday works very well for me,” I said, curling the phone cord around my finger, planning how I was going to keep my brothers out of the loop. I liked James, and I wasn't going to let my brothers mess this up.

I gave him my cell phone number and hung up, sighing with satisfaction. He seemed considerate. I loved his voice. And he was very, very easy on the eyes. Potential. Definite potential.

Before James called, I had been filling out my resume. Now, as I leaned my elbows on my hands I wondered if I was being too hasty.

It was too early to make a judgment on him, but I couldn't help wonder about his comment when he
saw me praying. I so hoped he was a Christian so that I wouldn't have to make a hard decision there.

From the time my relationship with the Lord had become real and personal to me, I had made myself a promise that I would never date a man who didn't share my faith.

In a town like Preston, it wasn't too hard to separate the sheep from the wolves. If I had a file on them, stay away. Any others, I had either gone to school with or were related to.

When I went to college, I stuck with the pick-them-up-at-church-functions method, that, overall, had worked in terms of getting a date. In terms of getting a boyfriend, not so great. I was still single, wasn't I?

The phone rang and I was rescued from my analysis of my love life. The caller was Laurel Milligan, a single mother who I had been working with for a few weeks now. “Hey, Ms. Hemstead. Whaddya think? Should I be usin' cloth diapers on Hubie? My friend's stepmom told me they're better.”

I couldn't help but laugh. Laurel thought I was an authority on the care and feeding of babies. I gave her what advice I could, which mainly consisted of referring her to the health nurse.

I hung up, added a few more sentences to the resume I had been working on. If I had a computer at home, I could do it there, but, alas, no such thing. I pulled a face at the vast white space on the screen. After college, this had been my one and only job,
other than slinging hash in a diner in Edmonton to put myself through school—which was
not
going on the resume. The phone rang and I stifled a sigh. I was tempted to let the machine answer it, but that would mean I would end up having to listen to the message, write down the number and then return the call. Easier to simply answer it and get it over and done with.

“Child welfare. Danielle Hemstead speaking,” I said absently, as I highlighted a section and hit the delete key.

“And? How was the date?” Tracy asked in her blunt manner. “Where did you go. What did you do?”

I smiled and leaned back in my chair, only too willing to indulge in the female pastime of rehashing a pleasant experience, analyzing it from all angles and getting a girlfriend's take on the night.

“We went to a movie, which wasn't great, but still fun. Then we went for a walk to the river.” I avoided any reference to Steve. I needed to block that particular scene from my short-term memory. “James is a considerate man. And he likes poetry and listens to Schubert.”

“Okay. And? Smooches?”

“No. Perfect gentleman.”

“That doesn't sound too perfect to me. How could he resist your china blue eyes, your honey blond hair?”

I doodled a letter “J” on my memo pad. “He was being considerate.”

“Is he a Christian?” Tracy's direct question made me laugh.

“He had said he admired me for praying before my meal in the restaurant. We didn't quite get to the salvation part of the evening.”

“So when do I get to meet this guy or rather
man?
”

“Hey, give me a bit more time before I start bringing in the big guns.”

“I'll be good. Guaranteed I'll be better than your brothers.”

I wanted Tracy and David to meet him. I wanted to receive the blessing of my nearest and dearest friends. “Just let me get to know James a bit more. I might be disappointed.”

“From the sound of your voice when you say his name, I think that might take a while.”

“He is a nice man. In many ways.”

“Well, keep me posted. Hey, the boss is here. I gotta run.” I heard David's deep voice, then a light laugh as Tracy hung up.

I clicked the phone. A few days ago I would have suffered pangs of jealousy. But now…

Now I had the promise of another date and the hazy hope of a future relationship.

I spun around and faced my desk, and the picture of my brothers that I had clipped up on my in-box. It made me think of Chip.

I called the garage, but Neil told me he wasn't in and his cell phone said he was out of the service area. So I left a message that I would call him at 5:00 p.m.

I half-heartedly finished my resume as I ate my
lunch, and before my coworkers started filing back into the office, my phone was ringing again and I was back to work. I didn't have a chance to think about James, our future date or my brothers or my application until Bobby looked in on me and told me she was leaving for the day.

I glanced at the clock on my computer. Five-thirty.

I tried calling Chip on his cell phone again, but it was off. My only other option was to stop by the arena. Neil had told me they were working some horses at the arena they used for their roping and riding practices and that they'd be late. He also told me not to bother stopping by.

This was a strange request. I never went to watch the boys do their guy, bonding thing anymore. I had spent enough of my youth hanging around ice rinks in the wintertime and roping and riding arenas in the summertime that I had reached maximum absorption.

I checked my messages again. There was one call from Jace to say that they'd be late for supper and, again, that I didn't need to come by the arena. I frowned.

My guy radar started spinning. My brothers had been acting weird the past few days. Their combined encouragement to stay away told me they were up to something and, perversely, that made me want to see
what
they were up to.

When I finished the last of the paperwork, I called home. Dad was fine. He was watching television. He didn't need me for a bit.

So at six-thirty, instead of going home, I headed for the arena where the boys were.

It had been drizzling when I left this morning, so driving down the road to the arena was almost a hazard. I fishtailed a couple of times, mud and dirt spraying up over my car.

When I got there, I parked by the row of trucks already lined up, mentally taking note of which ones were here. Chip's, Jace's and Neil's. All accounted for.

And a fourth one. A white truck. Just like the one that had been parked outside their shop when I stopped by there a few days ago. It had to belong to their buddy, Jigs.

Maybe that's why they wanted me to stay away. They knew I didn't like this guy very much.

Then I thought of the cleaned-up house last night. It had to be something else. My brothers were up to something and I needed to know what.
Now.

So I got out of the car and hurried, as best as I could in my high heels, through the dirt to the arena.

As I came through the small side door I heard the clanging of a gate, the hollow sound of hooves hitting metal and the howling encouragement of the boys. Sounded like one of them was getting ready to work a bronc.

After my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I worked my way up to the observation area—a small rise of benches where girlfriends and family members watched their guys do what they loved. As a young girl
I spent hours right here, waiting for my brothers while my mom drank coffee with other mothers and chatted and shared problems common to all farm wives.

I felt a nudge of nostalgia for those days, even though I usually grumbled and griped about having to come along. I wanted to stay home and play with my dolls or sew or embroider or read, but Mom didn't want me to be alone. So I came along and leaned on the rail, inhaled dust and dirt while my brothers pitted their brawn and brains against horses bred to buck.

“C'mon. He's a good un',” I heard Chip cry out. “Watch he don't spin on you.” Jace added his advice, Neil his.

Their friend must be the one on the horse. Jigs.

I leaned over to see better, but all I saw of the infamous Jigs was his hat, his dusty shirt straining over his broad shoulders and his gloved hands checking his rigging. It looked like he had already taken a few spills.

He gave a nod, Jace leaned over and swung open the gate and Jigs and the horse were out. The horse was a huge gelding named Truck Trouble. He was rough and big and loved to buck. And he was giving Jigs a good working over. Dust flew and I heard the grunt coming from the rider each time the horse landed. Truck Trouble spun and twisted, but Jigs kept his head low and stayed on, spurring him and getting a good rhythm.