Morning Light (24 page)

“No way.”

Clint chuckled. “You're right. No feathers. And my tux is Western-cut, so the hat and suit go good together. I don't look strange or anything.”

“In your opinion?”

He narrowed an eye at her. “You going to have a problem with me wearing my dress duds when I finally convince you to marry me?”

Her cheek dimpled again. “I'm far more worried about the boot pullers in every room of your house.”

“Now you're picking on my bootjacks? I swear, lady, what's it gonna be next, the horseshit on my Wranglers? I suppose you'll be one of those wives who makes a man shower and change clothes before he gets any supper at night.”

Her expression went suddenly serious. Clint felt his throat tighten. Here it came, the rejection he'd been dreading. He wasn't sure how he would handle that. In a very short time he'd come to care very deeply for her. It was almost as if they'd been destined for each other—and perhaps they had, judging by her lifelong dreams of him. He only knew he'd never met any other woman who'd made him feel like this. She'd actually helped him feed wolves a few minutes ago. And she
liked
his horses. How could a man fail to fall in love with a woman like that?

“I have a hunch you already shower every night, and in the overall scheme of things, that's a small wrinkle compared to some others that concern me.”

“So you've been thinking about it, too? About us, I mean.” He took that as a very good sign. “Tell me about the wrinkles. Maybe I can iron them out for you.”

“I decided a long time ago that marriage—to anyone—isn't for me. My being a clairvoyant makes everything too complicated. The Cheryl Blain thing, for instance. I've had to uproot myself, give up my entire life and try to start over from scratch. I could never ask my husband to do that if something bad happens again.”

“Can we try not to worry about things that haven't happened and may never happen?” he countered.

“I'd love not to worry about it, but isn't that impractical?” She gestured helplessly with one hand. “Of course I want to find love, get married, and have a family. And maybe, just maybe, I'm thinking I may have realized the first part of that dream, now that I've met you. But it's still a dream, Clint. A normal life will probably never be possible for me.”

“Bullshit. Everything's possible. What other wrinkles are you worried about?”

“Our backgrounds. We're so different.” She swung her hand. “I've actually come to see how fun it could be to go on wilderness rides—the wolves excluded, of course. Under any other circumstances I think I would have a great time—
if
occasional baths could be worked into the daily routine. I'm beginning to feel more than a little grungy after living and sleeping in the same clothes since we started out.”

Clint nodded. “Agreed. Normally we have a good scrub every day. In fact, these mountains are peppered with hot springs, so sometimes you can do it in style. It's just that we're racing to make time on this trip.”

“I know.” She drew up her knees, fussing with the sleeping bag to keep her lower body shielded from the night air. “It's more the everyday aspects of life that I feel might be a problem. You're a rancher. I'm from the city. I'm inclined to be very neat.
Meticulous
might be a better word. I love to decorate my house, too, and you might hate all the frills and folderol. I also love a little culture in my life, things unavailable in a town like Crystal Falls and especially on a ranch.” She gave him a sad look. “You like country-western music, and I'm into classical. I also love to see plays and an occasional ballet. Someday, when I can afford it, I'd like to travel a little, too. I want to tour Europe, and I absolutely must see Scotland someday. My family comes from there. My idea of a happy, contented life is far different from yours.”

A contented glow warmed Clint's chest. “So I'm not alone in thinking there could be—or maybe already
is
—something really special happening between us?”

She gnawed on her lower lip. “No, you're not alone. At first I just liked you.” She turned a troubled gaze on him. “Now I…” She shook her head. “We barely know each other. Thinking this way is crazy.”

“If we were any other two people in the world, maybe so.” He reached to smooth a dark tendril of hair from her cheek. “But I'm your dream cowboy, remember? I think we were destined to meet. That's why I've never found anyone else I want to be with. God wanted me to wait for you.”

“Really?” A shimmer of tears made her eyes sparkle in the firelight. “You've never wanted to be with anyone else?”

“Never. Not for the long haul, anyway. As for culture, I buy season tickets to the Portland Broadway plays and drive up there every few months. You ever see
Hairspray
?”

Her expression brightened. “
You've
seen it?”

“And loved it. Took in
Peter Pan
last summer, too. Samantha used to go with me. We always had a blast together, doing the big-city thing. Of course, Portland isn't quite as large as Seattle, but you can still go to museums, enjoy fine dining, and have a little culture in your life. It's only about three hours away.”

“You actually drive to Portland to see plays?”

“Yes, and now my traveling buddy just went and got married. You want to apply for the position?” He studied her sweet face, and in that moment he knew he was a goner. If he looked for a hundred years, he'd never again find anyone quite like Loni. “On the way up we can take turns listening to our music of choice. I'm not much for classical, but I don't reckon my ears will rot and fall off from listening to it, just so long as John Michael Montgomery and George Strait get equal time with Leonardo da Vinci.”

Her eyes rounded with horror. “Leonardo da Vinci was the famous Renaissance artist, not a composer.”

Clint strove to keep his expression carefully blank. “He
was
?”

She puffed air at her wildly curly bangs. “You are
impossible
. I thought for a moment—”

“I
am
college educated, you know. I was just trying to make you laugh. You're way too serious about all this. You haven't mentioned anything yet that two mature adults who care about each other can't work out.”

“What about the ballet?”

He shrugged. “I've never gone to a ballet, but I don't guess watching a pretty lady prance around in a tutu would be so bad.”

She elbowed him in the ribs. He grabbed his stomach. “What the
hell
was that for?”

“
My
husband will
not
drool over ballerinas in tutus. So if you'd like to apply for the position, Mr. Harrigan, get that idea straight out of your head.”

“I was only joking. I don't really have a thing for tutus. French bikinis, maybe.”

She nailed him in the ribs again, which made him laugh. “Maybe instead of watching the ballerinas, I'll just tip my hat down over my eyes and take a nap. It might be safer that way.”

She grinned and snuggled back on the saddle. “What about my love of decor? I constantly change things—repainting, buying new stuff, decorating for the seasons, moving the furniture. I'm afraid that would drive you nuts.”

“Moving the furniture might pose a problem when I come home drunk, but I only do that every week or so.”

This time she didn't take the bait. “Would you please be serious?”

“The truth?” Clint gave her a sidelong look. “I never really notice how rooms look. It might bother me if you painted every wall in the house bright purple, I guess. But mostly I don't pay much attention. My idea of decorating is to hang up a new calendar the first of January.”

“My point exactly. My idea of how a home should look may make you feel emasculated.”

“It'd take a hell of a lot more than gewgaws and lace curtains to make me feel feminine, darlin'. Just so long as you leave my recliner and remote control alone, I won't give a damn.”

“And how about those boot pullers?”

“Those have to stay.”

“Are they ugly?”

“Probably, but horseshit on the area rug is uglier. If we can negotiate a deal, here's what I'll do. There's an ironsmith in town who's handy with fine work. You pick out whatever you want to be on my bootjacks, and I'll have him fancy them up for you. You can even have bows and roses on the damned things. I don't care, just so long as they're functional.”

She giggled. “You romantic devil, you.”

Clint had to struggle not to laugh with her. “What're you wantin' from me, diamonds?”

“Well, not that we'll ever get that far, mind you, but if we did, I would want an engagement ring, and since I've waited so long to get one, I'd want something phenomenal.”

He pretended to consider the request. “I guess I could spring for a ring. That shouldn't make too big a dent in the four million that I've got invested for retirement. I'm kind of worried about all the traveling, though, and keeping you in classical CDs. Might be I'll have to put you on a budget.”

She lay very still for a long moment. “Did you say four
million
?”

“Did I stutter or something? My daddy is loaded. Maybe I forgot to mention that.”

“You most assuredly
did.
Not that I care one way or another. I used to make a very nice income of my own and hope to again. But after telling you practically everything about myself, I would think you might have at least
mentioned
the fact that you're rich.”

“I'm not rich. I have a lot of expenses—the animals, the ranch buildings, payroll, maintaining the land. Nowadays four million barely earns enough interest for a generous monthly income after retirement. Not that I'll ever totally retire. Ranching isn't just a job to me; it's a way of life, and I won't be giving it up just because I get old. Can you handle that?”

“Just so long as you can handle my still working as an interior decorator. That's more than just a job to me, too.” She sent him another serious look. “Are we crazy to be talking like this?”

“I don't think we're crazy. Seems to me we're being smart. Checking out the lay of the land before we venture across it, so to speak. It's good to know what you're getting into before you take the leap.”

She frowned slightly. “I don't know that I'll ever have the courage to take that leap, but it's fun to think about.”

“It doesn't take courage to leap, darlin'. You just close your eyes, let go, and jump. It's landing that can be a bitch. That's why we're being smart to talk about it before we reach the edge of the cliff.”

She smiled. “That's true, I suppose. If you never plan to retire, how will I ever visit Scotland?”

“I've got a ranch crew. There'll be nothing to stop me from taking vacations whenever I want. That's one reason I've worked so hard to squirrel retirement money away. I'd like to travel, too, only I'm hankering to visit Ireland, where all my people hail from.”

“Aha! No wonder I suspected a few times that you'd been kissing the Blarney Stone.”

“Innocent of the charge. I've never visited my grandparents' homeland. I'm just gifted with Irish charm.”

“And Irish stubbornness.”

“Takes a Celt to know a Celt, I reckon. You're a little stubborn yourself.” He grinned at her. “Not that I'm finding fault. I just have one question. I didn't think the Roman Catholic Church had much of a foothold in Scotland.”

“Yes, well, you think Leonardo da Vinci was a composer, so what can I expect?”

“Seriously. How'd you come to be Catholic?”

“I don't actually know. Both sides of my family have been for generations. You're actually correct in thinking that Catholics are a minority in Scotland. I think they comprised only about sixteen percent of the general population when the last census was taken.”

“But wasn't Catholicism outlawed there at some point in history?”

“Yes,” she said with a twinkling grin. “That occurred after the Scottish Reformation, I think. But we Scots are stubborn. Some of us remained Catholic and worshiped in secret, and over the centuries, the political situation evolved to accept Catholicism again.”

“I'm glad. I gave up on ever marrying a Catholic a long time ago. All I cared about was finding someone with a deep faith in God. But finding someone who shares my religion is a really nice plus.”

“I agree. I won't have to explain why I can't eat meat on Friday during Lent and why I fast sometimes.”

Clint nodded. Then, after taking a deep breath for courage, he said, “Speaking of which, there's something I need to talk with you about.”