Cowboy's Kiss (15 page)

They shared a surprisingly similar sense of humor and tastes in things like ice cream—butter brickle—and snow cones—grape and cherry mixed. And they were cohorts and coconspirators in more than just the cowboy boots. Ally learned of the practical jokes they'd played on Hans, the teasing they'd done to Marta, and some trick they were trying to teach Mutt.

Basically, they seemed to have formed a fast friendship. And seeing how good Jackson was with Meggie helped soften Ally's opinion of the man even more than the pleasantries and the good time he was offering.

And it
was
a good time.

Jackson insisted on buying their lunch and, while they ate, telling stories that made them laugh, about a Fourth of July pig stampede that had ruined the annual parade one year; about a man who kept his horse in the living room; and various other anecdotes about some of the people he introduced them to.

Then he took them browsing through Elk Creek's shops, filling them in on more town tall tales, history and legends, and basically just entertaining them with his quiet, understated wit and a wryness that was yet another facet of him Ally hadn't seen before.

But then, he was showing her a lot that she hadn't seen in him before. Gone was the gruffness, the intensity, the stern taskmaster, and in its place was a man with a capacity for relaxing and enjoying simple pleasures.

There was nothing about him that was demanding or authoritarian; instead he seemed carefree, flexible, and interested only in spoiling both Meggie and Ally by catering to their every wish and whim. And all while he seemed to delight in doing it, which made it that much better.

They spent the end of the afternoon at the honky-tonk with Linc and Danny.

While Danny showed Meggie the mechanical bull, Linc led Ally and Jackson to the kitchen where Linc told her that anytime she wanted to give up ranch life she could have the job of chef for The Buckin' Bronco.

She expected Jackson to add his encouragement to that idea but it never came. Instead he merely followed along quietly, though she thought she caught him paying extra-special attention to her decline of his brother's open-ended invitation.

At six o'clock they drove to Linc and Kansas's house. Danny and Meggie wanted to ride over together so Meggie went in Linc's truck. That left Ally and Jackson temporarily on their own.

Ally wondered if his mood might be different then, if this lighter side of him had been for Meggie's benefit.

But as they drove the short distance to the small white clapboard house, his attitude didn't alter at all. In fact, he confided to her that Kansas couldn't have kids and that it was a sore subject, so Ally wouldn't accidentally venture into it. And the way he shared that confidence gave her a sense of the closeness she'd seen him sharing with Meggie all day. A closeness she'd been slightly jealous of, if she was honest with herself. It was a heady thing, and Ally was sorry to have it end when they pulled into Linc's driveway and had to rejoin Jackson's brother and the kids.

The evening passed as pleasantly as the day had. Linc and Kansas were good company. But by ten o'clock Meggie and Danny were both visibly worn-out and the grown-ups called it a night.

“We're having a sort of slumber party here tomorrow with my sister's kids and Danny,” Kansas said as she and Linc walked Ally, Jackson and Meggie out. “The oldest is about Meggie's age. Do you think she'd like to come? Ashley would be thrilled not to have only her smaller brothers and sister to play with.”

Meggie's enthusiasm revived a bit at that. “Can I?” she asked.

“I don't know why not,” Ally answered, thrilled that her daughter had agreed. Overnights were not something Meggie was usually open to.

“Great.” Kansas ruffled the little girl's hair. Then to Ally she said, “How about if I come out to the ranch around two and pick her up? I'm turning the store over to a friend for the afternoon so we can start the party off with some running through the garden hose.”

“Sounds good,” Ally assured her, watching for signs of Meggie changing her mind. But they never came.

Instead her daughter said, “See you tomorrow, Danny,” and went to climb into the truck while the rest of the good-nights were exchanged.

She was curled up, asleep, in the center of the seat by the time Ally and Jackson got there.

“That was quick,” he observed with a nod at Meggie as he started the engine and backed out of the driveway.

“She had a big day,” Ally said, smoothing her daughter's forehead. Then she looked up at Jackson, wondering if, now that this informal holiday was over, he'd go back to his gruff persona.

He still
looked
congenial enough.

He'd taken his hat off when they'd arrived at Linc and Kansas's house, and left it off, but there was a slight indentation from it in his espresso-colored hair. That was the only thing about him that wasn't perfect.

He sat there, tall and strong, the features of his profile sharply defined and ruggedly handsome even in the deep shadows of the truck's interior. He exuded pure, raw masculinity that was earthily sensual, something innate rather than consciously manufactured. So much so that he seemed completely unaware of it and the power it wielded to set off a twittering in the pit of her stomach.

“Meggie and I both had a great time today,” she said, as if silence might give away the feelings that were stirring inside of her.

“Me, too,” he answered simply enough.

“You're really good with her...to her.... I can't tell you how much that means to me.”

“Nothin' special,” he grumbled a little, obviously uncomfortable with Ally's gratitude and praise.

She knew she should stop looking at him, stop keeping up friendly conversation, face forward or maybe toward the passenger window, and let things between them go back to the way they'd been before she'd delivered Beth's baby.

But she didn't do it. The day and evening had been too nice.
This
was too nice—the quiet intimacy of the truck as they found their way back to Center Street and headed for home.

He was dangerously appealing at that moment, and no matter how firmly she told herself to resist that appeal, the time they'd spent together had gone too far in making her even more vulnerable to him and she just couldn't make herself turn away.

“I thought that being on the ranch was what was improving Meggie's frame of mind,” she said. “It seemed good for her to be in the fresh air, around the animals—all the things I brought her here for. But I didn't realize until today how big a role you'd played, too. It's all been a sort of small miracle to see the sudden change in her.”

He turned his face to her. “You think all this little girl's hurts are solved with a couple of days here?” he asked kindly, quietly, as if venturing carefully so as not to too harshly shatter any illusions she might have.

“No. But I think she's better.”

“And it hasn't occurred to you that it's just the novelty of it all? That that novelty will wear off and when it does, nothin' miraculous will have really happened?”

“It's occurred to me, but I have to hope it isn't true. Or at least that when the novelty has worn off maybe she'll be on a better footing to deal with the bad feelings when they crop up again.”

He watched the road once more. “This life can make a person stronger, all right,” he conceded. “Or break ‘em. But even if it doesn't break ‘em, it always takes a toll, one way or another.”

Was there an underlying sadness in his voice? Ally couldn't be sure. “Are we talking about Meggie or about me, now? Or maybe about you?”

“Me?” That made him laugh softly.

“Living the life you do has taken its toll on you, hasn't it? No wife, no family, not even a lady friend...”

He didn't answer that, and Ally thought maybe she'd gone too far, so she backtracked. “But what you're really saying is that living here will take its toll on me, aren't you?”

He shrugged slightly. “It'll send you back to Denver. Sooner or later.” There was confidence in that statement, but none of the challenge or smugness that had been in earlier comments of that ilk. In fact this time she thought she heard that quiet note of sadness again.

“What makes you so certain?”

“I've seen it before. Up close and personal.”

“Your ex-wife,” she guessed.

That got her the front view of his face again, but for just a moment. “Shag told you about her, did he?”

“Only that you were married young and that it didn't last long. I just assumed—”

“Her name was Sherry,” he said as if Ally had asked. “She came up here with the same stars in her eyes that you have about livin' a country life. But that changed fast. The heat and bugs. Not having a mall to run to at the drop of a hat. Folks too busy workin' dawn to dusk to socialize much. A winter of being snowed in for days on end. My gettin' stuck out in a blizzard and nearly freezin' to death before I was found. Her seein' a man thrown from his horse and paralyzed. It all took its toll,” he repeated the phrase.

“And she left you,” Ally said quietly, seeing the pain the memory etched into his face. “How long were you married?”

“First day to last? One year and three months. I came in from a week-long roundup and thought the house seemed too quiet, too empty—more than if she'd just gone visitin'. And I was right. Her closet was cleaned out. All her stuff was gone. There were divorce papers with a note attached to ‘em on my pillow.”

“Just like that? She didn't tell you or even hint before that that she was unhappy or leaving or divorcing you?”

“Just like that,” he answered quietly. “When I looked back, I saw things that were more important than I'd realized. Remarks and complaints I guess I hadn't taken seriously enough. But mostly the plain truth was that she didn't belong here. She wasn't suited to the life. I thought she'd get used to things. Instead it seemed like livin' on the ranch just kept on taking its toll until she didn't want to pay up anymore.”

There was a message in his words, but beyond that, there was a simple statement of fact that told Ally he was only recounting the truth, not making anything up to frighten her away. And her heart ached for him and the echo of disillusionment in his voice, because he'd had to come to accept that not everyone loved the ranch and small-town life the way he did. Or could even tolerate it.

Then, with a wry sigh and a tilt of his head, he added more to himself than to her, “I don't ever want to be the last to know a thing like that again.”

“So instead you'll drive people out of your life to be the first,” she said much the same way.

Once more his head pivoted on his broad shoulders so he could stare back at her. But his good mood was still in place, because a slow smile crooked up one side of his mouth. “Got it all figured out, do you?”

“Deny it,” she challenged.

But he just let the other corner of his mouth join the first and went on pinning her in place with his cornflower blue gaze, leaving her to wonder whether or not she really had figured him out.

Then he looked straight ahead again just in time to pull into the garage at home, ending the drive Ally hadn't paid any attention to and the conversation, too.

He stopped the engine, got out and came around to her side, opening the door and handing her the keys. “You take those and I'll carry Meggie in,” was all he said.

Ally didn't move immediately. Instead she stayed where she was—eye to eye with him—still wondering about him, hurting for what he'd suffered even though he seemed to have gotten over it.

His wife must have been crazy,
she thought fleetingly as she took in just how handsome he was and considered how kind he could be when he put his mind to it, how sensitive in dealing with Meggie, how sexy...

He took her hand but not for anything except to urge her out, disappointing Ally, who hadn't realized until that moment that she'd been wanting him to kiss her the way he had the night before. Right then and there.

Out of the truck she turned to watch him lean inside and scoop her daughter into his arms.

“Shut that, would you?” he asked with a nod at the door before he headed for the house.

Snapping herself out of her reverie, Ally did his bidding, following behind and trying to keep her gaze from hooking itself to the back pockets of his jeans.

As they went into the house, she couldn't help imagining what it must have been like for him to come home one day expecting to find his wife and instead finding divorce papers.

It helped keep that unwelcome desire that had risen up inside of her at bay.

For the time being, anyway.

He carried Meggie upstairs and gently set her on her bed, pulling off the cowboy boots he'd bought her and lining them up where she could put her feet into them by just swinging her legs over the edge of the mattress.

Then he straightened up and left Ally to do the rest of the undressing.

“Guess it wouldn't do any harm to have another seven-o'clock morning tomorrow,” he whispered from beside her, putting what felt like an abrupt end to the evening. “See you then,” he added, and before Ally could even respond, his long legs took him out of the room.

It was for the best, she told herself as she eased her daughter into pajamas and under the covers.

But still she couldn't help wishing that, like the night before, he'd invited her to have one last glass of wine.

And just a few more minutes of him.

His door was shut by the time she went to her room, but her desire to be with him was still so strong that Ally knew she couldn't just get into her bed and fall asleep. Instead she decided a swim might be relaxing and help her work such silly longings out of her at the same time.

She put on her one-piece bathing suit and pulled her hair to her crown, keeping it there with an elastic ruffle that matched her plain black tank suit. Then she grabbed a bath sheet from the towel bar beside her shower and silently retraced her steps through the dark house and out back again.