Desert Heart (The Wolves of Twin Moon Ranch Book 4) (2 page)

Rick’s eyes met hers, and her memories rushed into an overwhelming blur, like a landscape seen from a carnival ride. The kind that terrified you, even if you never wanted to get off.

“Tina,” he said quietly. The warmth of his hand on hers sent a ripple through her body. “It’s been a long time.”

Seven years since their last, rushed encounter, and another five back to the time when they’d spent breathless nights together, all summer long. That made twelve long years. Tina knew. She’d counted every day, every night.

Too long
, her body sang.

Not long enough
, huffed the tiny section of her brain that still worked. Because for all the smoothness in Rick’s voice, she could feel a tiny, hopeful tremor in his hand.

He remembered, all right.

The realization rocketed through every nerve in her body, which wasn’t a good thing. If he felt the buzz that she’d never forgotten, it would be harder than ever to stay away. Hard to stay away from those earnest, golden-brown eyes that shone with some secret wish she’d never been able to figure out. Hard to keep her fingers from raking through that thick brown hair the way she still did in her dreams.

It would be impossible to say no to this man one more time.

“Hello, Rick,” she managed.

In some ways, he hadn’t changed a bit: same dimple on the left cheek, same perfect teeth. Time had been good to him. He’d gone from cute rookie to smoking hot pro. His face had an extra line or two, just enough to hint at the depth of character inside. He was only a couple of inches taller than her but easily twice her weight, with most of his bulk in his shoulders and chest—the chest slowly rising and falling, just inches away. She caught her hand sneaking up toward that broad expanse, ready to rest over his heart to feel the beat.

Which, of course, she couldn’t do. Not with her brother a foot away. Not with Dale Gordon, the Seymour Ranch foreman, stamping up from behind. Not with her inner wolf wagging its tail like a bitch in heat.

Dale nodded his greeting; Ty grunted back. The cowboys of Arizona had their own brand of charm, and social graces weren’t high on their list. Rick was somewhere in between, as he’d always been: a country boy who’d acquired just enough polish without forgetting his roots. The man was one in a million. But she’d known that from the very start.

“You’re the new manager,” Ty barked.

So much for starting with cookies and a cup of tea.

Tina dragged her eyes from Rick just in time to catch Dale’s scowl. Wasn’t hard to miss, nor was the slight tightening of Rick’s shoulders in response. But Rick’s easy expression remained unfazed.

“That’s me.”

The two men stood eye to eye like a couple of wary steer.

“And what about the owner?” Ty barreled on. “When can I talk to him?”

Most men, Tina figured, would have puffed out their chests and put their own importance on parade. Rick just gave an apologetic shrug. “Sorry, no can do.”

He said it with quiet confidence—the kind that came from a man who could admit his mistakes and move on. The eagerness to please had faded, replaced by a firm, take-it-or-leave-it sureness of a man who’d proven himself a thousand times over.

Except when those eyes flicked to hers, there was a gleam that said he had one last thing to prove. Not to Ty or Dale or anyone else. Not to any other woman. Only to her.

Christ, she was a goner. It had taken all she had to turn him down in the past. Twice. There’d been their time together as teens, and that one visit he’d made home in between, when the two of them couldn’t resist the temptation to jump into each another’s arms yet again. He’d even asked her to go with him when he left.

“Come with me, Tina. Marry me. Be mine.”

“I can’t.” The hoarse whisper she’d barely managed then was on the tip of her tongue now.

Somehow, she’d forced herself to do the right thing back then and say no. She didn’t have it in her to do it again.

But now Rick was back and playing to win.

Tina pulled in a long, slow breath. It would be so much easier if she could just tell him.
Rick, you’re human, and I’m a shifter. We can’t be together. It would never work. The pack needs me, and they’ll never accept you.

Wolves were highly territorial, and Rick, though no shifter, was all alpha male. The leading triad of her pack—her father and her two brothers—would treat Rick like any other intruder if he got too close.

As in, kill him on sight.

Even this little bit of contact with Rick got Ty’s wolf riled up. And if she tried bringing Rick home? Forget it.

She shouldn’t—couldn’t—love Rick. It just couldn’t be.

But the mind and the heart were two different things, and hers was long lost to the boy next door.

By the time she worked up the nerve to meet his eyes again, Rick’s gaze was back on Ty. “The new owner is a very private man,” he said. “I’ve only ever dealt with the lawyer myself.”

“What kind of man doesn’t want to run his own ranch?” Ty grumbled, kicking the sand.

Behind Rick, Tina saw Dale spit a wad of tobacco and scowl at Rick. Definitely bad blood there.

Rick shook his head, a small but firm gesture. “I don’t know who he is, but I’m sure he wants to maintain good relations with the neighbors.”

Ty snorted. “He can start by meeting the neighbors.”

Rick gave a tiny shrug, and Tina couldn’t help but marvel. Not even her brother could shake him. Of course, standing down one-hundred-mile-an-hour pitches in front of fifty thousand screaming fans probably made for good practice when it came to facing enemy fire.

“And what about the aquifer?” Ty went on, unrelenting.

“The aquifer?” Rich echoed in a totally neutral tone, lobbing the ball straight back into Ty’s court.

“Yeah, the aquifer.” Ty nodded. “We hear the owner wants to drill deeper and double the output.”

Tina waited, watching Rick closely. The water level in the aquifer that fed both Twin Moon and Seymour Ranches was stable, but it would never support higher usage. Rumor had it that the new owner of Seymour Ranch had been inquiring about rights to drill deeper, pump more, and sell the water to the highest bidder. With water being the gold of the modern West…it was a thorny subject, at best.

Rick scratched his chest, looking Ty up and down as if he were speculating where the next curve ball would go.

“I’m not aware that the new owner has plans for any major changes. But don’t worry…”

Ty gave him a thorny look that said,
I never do
.

“…I’ll make sure you’re the first to know as things develop.”

In the tense silence that ensued, the grandfather clock inside the house gave a resounding
Bong
. A countdown, Tina sensed, to some uncertain deadline. Things were changing in Twin Moon’s corner of the world. Who knew what trouble they’d have to contend with next?

But surely the boy from next door could be counted on as an ally, not an adversary? She looked at Rick, whose eyes had followed the sound toward the clock. That clock—Lucy Seymour’s pride and joy—had fascinated them as kids. They’d invented a dozen stories around it. The clock was haunted, they’d whispered to each other. The clock was a fairy castle. The clock was magic. At night, when the desert was hushed, you could hear the bong from a mile away. Tina knew; she’d crept close sometimes in wolf form just to listen. To hang on to that part of her past.

The part of her past that had Rick in it, too.

His eyes followed the sound, and on the second bong—nine-thirty—his lips gave a tiny quirk, like he was remembering, too.

His mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “Can we talk about this over coffee?”

Tina nodded before thinking. “I brought cookies.” Her voice sounded much too hopeful, much too friendly. Even if there was no hope of anything with this man, she couldn’t resist.

“Don’t think so,” Ty grunted, already moving toward the truck and nodding his goodbye to Dale. All Rick got was the smallest tilt of the chin.

Rick gave a polite nod in return. His expression remained unchanged, and he rubbed a slow thumb over his chest, left, then right. Tina ached to reach out and do it for him as she’d once done, so many years ago.

Her eyes met his, and the next second was an eternity. Just the two of them caught in a thousand memories of what once was, of what couldn’t possibly be.

God, she’d come so close to running away with him once upon a time.

So why not now?
the mournful voice of her soul cried.

Tina leaned in toward the soothing honey brown of his eyes, wondering if the impossible might be possible. Because Rick’s full lower lip was pinched between his teeth now, caught in the wistful expression of a boy she knew long ago.

Ty brought the truck to life with a roar, snapping them both back to reality. Tina extended the plate of cookies without breaking Rick’s gaze.

“Hope you like them,” she whispered over the engine noise.

He smiled and warmth filled her, as if the sun had just risen from behind the hills.

“I know I will.” He accepted the cookies with one hand and extended the other. “See you soon?” His fingers gripped hers firmly like, this time, he’d never let her go.

Ty revved the truck, and Rick’s eyes jumped over her shoulder, leveling a perfectly steady look at her brother. A one-syllable look that said,
Wait.

Tina pulled away, suddenly in a hurry. It was one thing for Rick to challenge Ty, man-to-man. But man-to-wolf? He didn’t know what he was facing. He had no idea what she was. And if he found out?

The pack guarded its secret fiercely. No one could know.

Not even him.

Rick stood, watching the pickup scatter gravel in the drive and speed off while Dale stalked away, muttering under his breath.

The minute they were all out of sight, Rick backed up to the top step of the porch and sat down. Hard.

He’d been expecting a visit from the neighbors, but he’d figured it would be old man Hawthorne. He hadn’t expected
her
.

He looked down at the plate she’d thrust in his hand, then up to the dust cloud rising over the bluff toward the main road.

Tina Hawthorne.
Dios mio.

Sweat was just starting to trickle down his face. His heart was revving like he’d just rounded the corner from third to home on a very tight play. A minute longer standing next to her, inhaling that lavender scent of hers, and he’d have lost it completely. Thrown her into a back-bending, knee-rattling kiss, like on an old movie poster. Swung her onto his back and thumped his chest a few times. Gouged the eyes out of Dale Gordon, who’d dare ogle her perfect package of an ass.

Perfect package everything. The perfect curves—not too big, not too small—obvious despite her oversized button-down shirt and plain jeans. The glossy mane of her brown-black hair, the mystery in those midnight eyes that seemed to laugh and cry at the same time.

He scrubbed both hands over his face, feeling the heat in his cheeks. Heat that spread all over as every part of his body reacted in its own love-sick way. His dick fought for space in his jeans, his lungs ached for her return.

Jesus. Tina Hawthorne. Only she could do that to him.

He looked up again, and though the dust cloud was settling, his heart rate wasn’t. But hell, he didn’t need Dale Gordon to see him like this. So he shoved himself to his feet, about-faced into the house, and breezed through the central corridor. Past the grandfather clock and the Seymour family portraits hung on the walls until he emerged on the veranda in the back. Three quick steps across the flagstones to the single step down into the garden, and he sank down again.

How long had it been since he’d seen Tina? Seven years, seven months, and yeah, a couple of days. It had been February first when she rejected him seven years ago. And today was September tenth. So…seven years, seven months, and nine days. He was about to check his watch, because he could probably calculate the minutes, too, but that wasn’t good for his sanity. And anyway, a day without her was a day too long.

See you soon?
That’s what he used to whisper after one of their clandestine meetings as teens.

See you soon.
She’d smile and shine and make his heart feel too big for his chest.

He nodded to himself. At least he’d gotten an echo of those words in before her brother had driven her off.
See you soon.

God, it could never be soon enough.

Tina. She’d been a childhood buddy, then an eye-catching teen, then a gorgeous young woman. She’d always been a class act, but now? Christ, she was out of the ballpark. Somehow, she’d ripened, not aged. Same silky hair that shone in the sun. Same smooth, baby skin. Same fire in her eyes when she looked at him. But something about her said she was older, wiser, more careful now. A little sadder, too, but that only made him want her more. To give her whatever she needed to laugh and smile and glow.

He dug a heel into the gravel. It would have been easier if she’d aged the way so many old friends had: looking wearier, baggier, with a couple of clamoring kids clinging to her clothes. That and a big-ass wedding ring that screamed
Hands off
, plus a husband with a shotgun and a very mean dog.

But there was no ring. No husband. The only ring she wore was a plain one, and on the wrong finger. The guiltless lust that filled her eyes as her lips quivered proved it, too.

No, there were no contenders, except for that overprotective family of hers. The only difference to their early days was that the fire-breathing dragon of a father lurking over her shoulder had been replaced by a fire-breathing dragon of a brother. The one looking at him like he’d never be good enough for Tina. Not as the son of a lowly Latino cook, not even as a ball player. He’d hoped they’d see him differently now that he was back as manager, but it sure didn’t seem that way.

In a roundabout way, he owed that cranky, overprotective family of Tina’s. They’d kept her safe from the cowboys, the city slickers, the prospectors who must have passed by throughout the years. Because Tina was a true prize. A diamond who didn’t know the meaning of rough. A soul mate, just for him.