Never the Twain (23 page)

The whole Forsythe family had turned out to be plain folks, a lot like the ranchers in
Owyhee Country. Self-reliant, independent, friendly without being stuck-up.

He'd liked them, in spite of himself. He'd even liked Genny's brothers, despite their taking
him out behind the barn and telling him, explicitly, what they'd do to his manhood if he harmed so
much as a hair on their little sister's head.

Now he understood why she got her hackles up whenever he got a little pushy. Genny was
one who'd have to be managed with a gentle hand, because she'd been rough broke and was a little
touchy about it.

She had done her best for him, too. Just yesterday he'd heard from Dan Walters, that he
could go ahead with the dam down in the Shinbone. The Ainsworths hadn't turned up any evidence
of aboriginal use in the Shinbone, although the Armbone had been a significant find. Dan said the
paper Genny would write with the Ainsworths would be a feather in her professional cap.

Dan hadn't been able to resist telling him that if Genny hadn't persuaded the Ainsworths
to come in this summer, it might have been several years before he got a go-ahead on the dam.

So he owed her. Maybe he'd send her a bouquet when he got back from the Stockmen's
Association meeting in Cheyenne. Or he'd just wait and buy her and Aaron a fancy silver platter or
something as a housewarming present.

Damn!

It sure as shootin' hadn't taken her long to get him out of her system. The party for Sophie
and Pancho had been just a little over a month ago and here she was ready to move in with
somebody else.

He'd been sure she loved him.

"Yeah, well, Selma supposedly loved Pa, too," he told the steering wheel, "and look what
she did to him."

I am not Selma!
Those had been the last words Genny had spoken to him.

Somehow that night of the party she'd managed to avoid him entirely while they were all
cleaning up the place. While he'd been picking litter up outdoors, she was washing dishes. And when
he went inside to run the vacuum in the parlor, he'd found it was all done. With her family's help,
they'd slicked up his place in jig time. Then they'd all climbed into their vans and gone back to
Vale.

He hadn't seen a single Forsythe the rest of that week. Not even the only one who
mattered.

I am not Selma.

She surely wasn't. Genny might have silver hair, but it grew naturally, not from a bottle.
Her nails might be long and painted, but they were just about the prettiest things he'd ever seen,
giving her slim hands an appealing grace and fragility. And she knew how to use them to make him
feel sensations he'd never dreamed of.

He couldn't imagine Selma stopping for a stranded motorist alongside the highway.

It'd almost stopped his heart when he'd seen Genny climbing that cliff, risking her life for a
couple of foolish tourists.

Selma had always insisted on having her parties catered.

Genny had thrown herself into preparations for the party honoring Pancho and Sophie
with enthusiasm. He'd had a hell of a time persuading her to let Lizzie do the cleaning, to let Pancho
do some of the cooking.

Every one of his neighbors asked about Genny each time he encountered them. Just
yesterday Mrs. Lehenbauer had stopped to visit while he was loading Brandy into the trailer at
Rockville.

"When are you gonna bring that nice Genny out for coffee and cake, Rock? She wanted to
have a look at some of my quilts."

"I'm afraid we're not seeing each other these days, ma'am," he'd told her. "I doubt she'd go
anywhere with me."

"Pshaw! Just a lover's spat. You apologize for whatever you done wrong and everything'll
be just dandy." The old woman had winked and driven off in her 1947 Dodge pickup. Rock stared
after her, wondering why everyone assumed he'd driven Genny away.

By the time he reached Caldwell, he'd made up his mind. Instead of turning east on the
freeway, he turned west, bound for Vale. There would be another Stockmen's Association meeting
next year, but he might never get another chance to live happily ever after.

* * * *

The pickup was parked beside her van as if it had every right to be there. The man
sprawled across the stairs to her apartment seemed equally at home.

Genny stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked upward. "Anything I can do for
you?"

"Yep."

She waited. Slowly he rose to his feet and came down to meet her. With one hand he lifted
her bike, with the other he motioned for her to proceed him up the stairs. She swallowed nervously.
What did he want?

Once inside, Rock set the bike in its usual place beside the refrigerator, then walked into
the living room. Genny followed him, not sure she should turn and run instead of waiting to see
what he wanted.

"You're not gonna live with that Aaron fella."

Sophie's plan had worked! "No," she agreed.

"If you live anywhere but here, it's gonna be at the Rock and Rye."

"That's too far to commute," she said, the beginnings of joy bubbling up inside.

"You can stay here through the week durin' the winter," he said, "until you're pregnant.
You'll be quittin' your job then."

"I will not!"

"Oh, yes you will, darlin'. No wife of mine is gonna drive near a hundred miles of lonely
road when she's in the family way. It ain't safe."

Genny's knees grew weak and wobbly. "Wife?" The word came out little more than a
whisper.

Rock towered over her. "Ah, gee, Genny. I'm doin' exactly what I swore not to. Can I start
over?"

She nodded, afraid that a spoken word would break the spell.

"I love you, Genille Enderby Forsythe. I want you to be my wife."

Sweet relief flooded through her. She'd won! "And I love you, you big, arrogant, rude,
crude cowboy. God help me, I love you so much, I..."

His mouth swallowed the rest of her words. A delicious eternity later, he pulled away,
leaving her wanting more. "Pack a bag. I'll call Dan." He released her so suddenly she almost
collapsed.

"Huh?"

"We're going to Elko, darlin'. I figure we can be married in less than six hours. But there's
no way I can get you back here in time for work tomorrow." He picked up the phone, started
dialing.

"Wait just one darn minute there, Rock McConnell!" She had exactly what she wanted, but
she couldn't accept it. Not this way.

He turned and looked at her, puzzlement raising his brows.

"I haven't said I'd marry you."

"Sure you did."

"No, I didn't. I said I love you. And I do. But I'm not sure I want to marry you."

"We're not livin' together unless we're married. And you're coming home with me."

"No, I'm not, unless we can agree on a few things."

"Like what?"

"Like you're not my father, you're not my boss, and you're not my conscience. I'm a big
girl, Rock, and I can make my own decisions. I can even, despite what a tough cowboy from
Owyhee Country might want to believe, take care of myself."

She walked to the end of the living room, looked out over the narrow street into the park
beyond. "When I went to graduate school--over the objections of my family, you understand--I
vowed that I'd never let anyone make decisions for me again. I'd had enough of that, being the
youngest, being Avery's, Carlyle's and Ev's baby sister, being the only granddaughter."

Her soft chuckle was bitter, even to her ears. "Do you know I wasn't allowed on a horse
until I was nine, even though we bred Morgans? I never owned a pair of blue jeans until I bought
my own, when I was old enough to baby-sit for my cousin Evelyn. Even Sophie wouldn't do that
for me, although I owe her thanks for setting me an example of female independence."

She spun around, saw he was still standing across the room where she'd left him. "If my
folks had had their way, I'd have been passive and proper. I'd have been a school teacher in New
Hampshire, married a proper man, raised proper children. Spent my holidays in Boston, doing the
museums.

"I'd never have crossed the Mississippi, never hung my feet over the rim of the Grand
Canyon at dawn, never watched the sun set into the Pacific Ocean. I would never have participated
in an Anasazi dig in New Mexico, explored the serpentine mounds in Ohio, or ridden a helicopter
into Skeleton Gulch with a sexy cowboy whose eyes scorched me wherever they touched."

He took a step toward her, his eyes as full of hot promise as they'd been that other day.
Genny held up a hand, halting him. "Rock, I'm afraid to marry you. Afraid that I'll end up being
exactly what I would have if I hadn't escaped the shelter of my family. The only difference would be
the location. Owyhee Country instead of New England."

"Hell and damnation!" His words were soft but they carried across the small room.

Genny waited.

"I figured it all out, darlin'," he said, his voice shaking. "I knew you didn't like bein' pushed
around, knew it's how your brothers and your pa handled you. Sophie told me some, and I saw the
rest when your folks were here. Your ma wanted you to be like her, and I guess that's not so bad,
but you're more like Sophie."

Somehow he'd crossed the room without her knowing it. His arms were around her.
"You're feisty, independent, stubborn, and just plain hard to get along with. I think that's what I love
most about you."

He swung her off her feet, up against his chest. His words vibrated against her as he
carried her into her bedroom. "I honestly meant to ask you, Genny. I'll grovel, if that's what it takes.
Just tell me you'll marry me. I'm so damn tired of bein' alone." He lowered her onto the bed and lay
beside her. His hands were busy with her shirt until she stopped them, held them tightly.

"You're asking?"

"I'm beggin'." He bent his head until his lips were scant millimeters from hers.

"If you're lonely," she said, avoiding his eyes, "you could buy a dog." She wasn't ready to
give him her entire trust.

"Genny!" Levering himself up onto his elbows, he loomed over her. "I'll try, darlin'. I'll do
my dam'dest to let you live your own life, as long as you do it along with me."

She stared, trying to see past the love, beyond the desire. "I believe you'll try, Rock, but
that may not be enough. There will be times when I set my heels and we just can't reach a
compromise."

Humor gleamed in his eyes. "We won't be bored, will we?" He chuckled. "Please, marry
me, Genny. Pretty please."

"And you won't insist I quit my job."

"When you're pregnant, ask me again."

"Rock!"

"I won't insist. I promise."

"Well, then..." She looked him straight in the eye and frowned.

He waited, his heart threatening to stop.

Her lips twitched, but she didn't quite smile. "Yes."

"Was that a definite yes?"

"That was a definite yes, Rock. An eternal yes." Pulling his face the last short distance, she
kissed him.

Rock burst into flame. His hands were rough, his mouth hungry. Within seconds they were
naked together and his fingers were smoothing the flesh of her inner thighs, inciting her to passion.
She met him more than halfway, stroking his hard body, exciting his swollen cock with delicate,
butterfly touches, nibbling his hard male nipples, lightly scraping her fingernails down the lean
muscles of his back.

They drove each other higher and higher, until Genny's awareness comprised only her
need, her hunger. She arched upward, offering herself to him, heard her own hoarse cry as he
entered her. Joined, they moved in perfect rhythm, giving, taking, striving together toward the
ultimate fusion.

When the world shattered, they clung together, panting, bonded with the strength of their
passion. For a long time they remained joined, letting the world reform around them. Finally Rock
moved slightly, lifting himself to relieve her of most of his weight. He slipped sideways, but kept one
arm and one leg across her, as if afraid she'd get away.

Genny turned her head, found his smiling eyes. "A definite yes," she repeated.

"I love you, little lady," Rock said, his voice gentle.

"Don't call me lit--" Genny found her words cut off as he kissed her yet again.

"I love you, darlin'," Rock said. "Is that better?"

"Perfect," she said. "Simply perfect."

THE END

Judith B. Glad grew up reading pulp magazines, watching action hero serials, and collecting
comics--Wonder Woman, Superman, Batman, Captain Marvel. So is it any wonder that she grew up
wanting to create her own worlds in which the good guys--male and female--always won, where
right always prevailed, and where love was the most important force in the universe?

Sidetracked by reality, she started a family, followed a couple of careers, and went back to
school. Eventually she ended up as an independent environmental consultant. One winter when
business was slow, she sat down and wrote a romance.

What fun!
she thought.
Much more fun than writing reports.
A lot harder too,
but eventually she figured out how to do it right. Now she spends every available hour writing
romances.

Judith lives with her husband in Oregon, where flowers bloom in her yard every month of
the year. Her children and grandchildren live not too far away.

Visit Judith's website at www.judithbglad.com, and while you're there, take a side trip to
her other webpages where you'll meet her family and find links to some unusual and interesting
places.

* * * *

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