Sharp Shootin' Cowboy (14 page)

The younger man beside him spoke. “I've got a question that's on all of our minds. What's the
real
purpose of this so-called task force?”

Haley licked her lips. “I thought I already explained that. Our purpose is to review, monitor, and provide timely updates on all wolf management activities—”

“Updates to whom? The Fed or those fanatical activists that are suing us?” He eyed her with open hostility. “The same people
you
worked for.”

Haley's chest constricted. She glanced frantically around the room that was now abuzz. They did somewhat resemble the lynch gang she'd joked about. Maybe Jeffrey hadn't exaggerated so much after all.

“I believe Dr. Cooper stated she'd take questions at the
end
of her talk.”

She hadn't noticed Reid's entrance until he laid a hand on her antagonist's shoulder. They stared each other down for a protracted moment. To her relief, her adversary backed down, taking his seat again with a sullen look. Reid took a place beside him and nodded to Haley to continue her lecture. The next twenty minutes passed in a blur as she mindlessly recited from her notes, her gaze remaining focused on Reid's passively reassuring face.

“In closing, thanks to the cooperative efforts of federal, state, and tribal agencies, as well as conservation groups and ecologically-minded private citizens, we have succeeded in restoring this magnificent species to most of the Northern Rockies. We now look to you, the ranchers, sportsmen, and outfitters of Wyoming, to help us build upon this success.”

She paused, surveying the room, but rather than the smiles, nods, and applause she was accustomed to, she was met with dead silence and cold, steely stares. Her smile wavered. She cleared her throat again. “Now then, does anyone have any questions?”

Arms across his chest, her former detractor maintained his icy glower. His light blue eyes reminded her all too much of Reid's. Did all Wyoming men have eyes that color?

After a moment of strained silence, Reid raised a hand. “I do. I think everyone in this room wants to know the same thing. We've already presented a wolf management plan to the Feds. What more will it take for them to delist?”

Haley replied, “While I can't answer for the federal government's final decision, the task force will review the data and look for assurances that breeding pairs and collared subjects will continue to be protected. We feel that further monitoring is needed since so many of our study subjects periodically migrate out of their protected habitats and into Wyoming.”

“If that's so, what's to keep you from slapping collars on every wolf?” her first heckler asked.

“Money and manpower,” she answered bluntly. “I wish we
could
monitor every wolf. We'd then be able to prove that your concerns about livestock depredation are largely unfounded, but it's just not feasible.”

“And what about the declining moose and elk?” he pressed. “What's your answer to that? Our herds are a fraction of what they were ten years back.”

“There are many factors for the decline of ungulates outside of predators. Namely changes in migration patterns and habitat due to expanding human interference. I'm sorry I can't elaborate more,” Haley hedged, “but I believe my colleagues who spoke earlier can better respond about the herd decline. Any
other
questions?”

Another glower from Reid silenced her two antagonists.

Haley exhaled in relief. Still shaken, she shuffled her notes while waiting for the room to disperse. When she looked up again, it was empty of everyone but Reid.

Stepping down from the podium, she laid a hand on his sleeve. “Thank you for coming to my rescue. I had no idea this would become so confrontational.”

His gaze met hers. “Don't mistake my actions, Haley. What I did doesn't mean I agree with you. I'm not on your side on this issue. I just don't adhere to bullying.”

“Then I appreciate your intervention all the more.”

“I invited you for dinner, but perhaps you'd like to get a drink?”

“Yes,” she replied shakily. “I could definitely use a drink, but could we please go somewhere beside the hotel bar? Someplace quieter maybe?”

“That leaves out the Million Dollar Cowboy,” he replied. “I'm assuming all steak houses are also out, right? You still a vegetarian or have you gone full-out vegan?”

She looked abashed. “No. I'm not a vegan. I tried it for a time but I caved on dairy,” she blurted with a guilty look. “And shoes.”

“Shoes?” He returned a quizzical look. “'Fraid I don't follow you there.”

“True veganism is a lifestyle, Reid. Vegans shun not just animals as food but animal products. I had a very hard time finding decent shoes that weren't leather. I also had a hard time giving up wool, especially while in Alaska.”

He shook his head with a tsking sound. “So Dr. Haley Cooper chose personal comfort over ethics?”

“Yes,” she confessed with a look that made him chuckle. “The whole truth is comfort coupled with vanity. I love high heels. When you are barely over five feet tall, you need all the extra inches you can get. But I suppose you wouldn't understand that, not being challenged for inches.”

He cocked a brow.

Her face flamed. “That didn't come out right. At. All.”

“Yes. I'm thankful for all my
inches
.” His lips curved in a slow smile that made her insides quiver. “They help get me into those really hard-to-reach places.”

She shut her eyes on a distant memory of all those thick, hard inches moving inside her. Her thighs tightened against the sudden surge of desire.

“What's the story on dairy?” Reid's question jerked her mind from the gutter.

“I made a sincere effort to fall in love with soy and tofu, but there's no comparison with real ice cream…or cheese. Not even close. One night, when I was feeling particularly blue, I was seduced back to the dairy side by a four-cheese pizza and a pint of Moose Tracks. I fell off the wagon and never got back on. There you have it. Pathetic, isn't it? I'm the Benedict Arnold of vegans.”

“So pizza was your Achilles' heel?” His laugh was low and rumbly. She loved the sound. Jeffrey rarely laughed, but when he did it was nasally and grating.

“Can't blame you there,” he continued. “I love pizza, second only to a good steak. Those were two of the things I missed most in the sand pits.”

“What else did you miss?” she asked.

His grin disappeared. “Ever heard of General Order Number One?”

“No. What is it?”

“The prohibition of booze and all sexual contact in a combat zone. I did seven deployments in eight years, all in combat zones. Each averaging seven months. Some longer. Fifty months of total abstinence. Four-point-one-six
years
, if you do the math.”

“Oh,” she said. His gaze was too intense. She had to look away. “I guess you must have been real eager to make up for all that lost time.”

He shook his head slowly. “Time, once lost, can
never
be recouped.”

Was there a deeper message in that? What were they doing now? He'd begun to thaw. In some ways it felt the same between them as before, as if the years had never passed, but in other ways, it was as if they were perfect strangers.

“C'mon.” He pressed a hand to her back. “Let's go. I know just the place.”

* * *

Reid drove her to a small Italian restaurant, hoping to get in without a reservation, but the dining room was full. “Do you serve in the bar?” he asked the maître d'.

“Yes. We offer the full menu.”

“Will that suit you?” he asked Haley.

“Yes. I'm easy,” she replied and then colored. “To
please
, I mean.”

Another Freudian slip? She was edgy as hell, and the tension between them was only growing. She didn't hide it well. He was happy to see her squirming in her panties and feeling pretty damned smug to know she was thinking the same thoughts he was.

He'd tried to ignore it, to suppress his lingering lust, but he couldn't deny the semi he'd been sporting almost from the moment he'd seen her. They followed the maître d' into the bar where he chose a quiet corner table. A waitress appeared almost immediately to take their drink order.

“Jim Beam Black, straight up.” He looked to Haley. “A
mojito
? Is that still your poison?”

“Yes,” Haley said. “I'm surprised you remember.”

“I never forget details.” He shrugged. “Marine training.” It was true, just not the whole truth. He remembered
her
. Had memorized every detail over those cumulative four-point-one-six years. He'd wanted her back then, and still wanted her now. He didn't know why, but he couldn't help himself.

The waitress left menus behind while she went to fill the drink order.

“You've changed. The glasses. The hair,” he remarked. It was still the same pale blonde, but shorter, barely brushing her shoulders.

“I'm not twenty anymore,” she said. “I needed a more sophisticated, less coed look. When you're as short as I am, it's hard to be taken seriously to begin with, so I cut my hair and started wearing glasses again.” She slid them off her face and set them on the table. “I really only need them for reading.”

Her eyes were the deep sea green he so vividly recalled. They softened as her gaze met his. She seemed less certain of herself now. More vulnerable. Yeah, she felt it brewing too. It was only a matter of time, but if it happened again, it would have to be on his terms.

“Reid, I wanted to ask you something. Who were those two men this afternoon?”

“The ones who harassed you?” He'd hoped this wouldn't come up, but supposed it was inevitable.

“Yeah. Can you tell me anything about them?”

“The older one is a founding member of the Outfitters Association, and the younger is his son, the chairman of the Wolf Coalition.”

“The group countersuing the Wolf Recovery Alliance? No wonder they were so hostile,” she remarked dryly. “What are their names? I'd like to know precisely who I'm dealing with.”

He heaved a sigh. “Boyd and Jared Everett.”

“
Everett
.”

“Yup. My father and my brother.”

“So
that's
why they backed off when you intervened.”

“Yes, but it was only a reprieve. They're going to win this time, Haley. All you activists can continue to fight in the courts, but you're eventually going to lose in Wyoming. It's only a matter of time. You'll never sway public opinion to your side here. Trust me on this, there's nothing you can do to stop the delisting.”

“But we can certainly delay it. Our lawyers are already seeking another injunction.” Haley jutted her jaw. “You aren't doing enough to protect the wolves.”

“You've got to at least
try
to understand where the people here are coming from. We're traditionalists who depend too much on our lands and herds to make our living. We can't protect
your
wolves at the cost of feeding
our
families.”

“You all want to cast all the blame for the herd decline on the wolves when the facts are—”

“Facts?” he repeated. “Let's just stick to bare facts, shall we? How many wolves are there in Wyoming?”

“It's hard to estimate. They move around.”

“Then give me your best guess.”

“Our last report stated 320 known wolves in Wyoming.”

“Wasn't the recovery goal a hundred?”

“That's the
minimum
number for recovery,” she insisted.

“Yet you're telling me we have over three times that number.”

“But if you start killing them—”

He raised a hand. “Hold your rebuttal until you hear me out, Haley. Still sticking to
facts
, what is their primary food source?”

“Ungulates. Mostly deer, elk, occasionally moose calves.”

“How many kills does a wolf need to make in a year to survive?”

She chewed her lip. “About twenty, I guess. Maybe twenty-five.”

“So a wolf population of one hundred would kill about two thousand, maybe twenty-five hundred elk a year?”

“I suppose so.”

“But we have over three hundred wolves killing twenty to twenty-five elk apiece. That's close to
eight
thousand
elk in a single year, Haley. I'm no math genius, but it seems to me that accounts for a big chunk of the decline.”

“But there are other predators and other factors than wolves,” she argued.

“I don't dispute that, but those other factors only contribute further to the decreasing elk numbers, and we haven't even touched on livestock yet. You see why people are hurting? Why they're hostile? They're watching everything they've worked for all their lives go down the tubes just to satisfy the conservationists who want to watch wolf pups romp at the national parks. Problem is, the wolves don't stay in the parks.”

“You're oversimplifying everything,” she insisted. “The issue is much more complicated than that.”

“Is it? I don't think so. Why are you really here?” he asked.

She shrugged. “It was a job.”

“You already had one, didn't you? With one of those conservation groups?”

“I was an assistant professor of wildlife conservation studies at the university, and yes, I also helped fund-raise for a conservation group.”

“So why are you
here
?” he repeated.

“Truth?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He sat back. “Truth.”

She sighed. “I was getting tired of all the politics and wanted to get back to fieldwork. All the money I've helped raise seems to be going into lawyers' pockets instead of toward what really matters. I thought this job would allow me to get back to what I love.”