Lone Tree (20 page)

He sat on the edge of the bed.

She raised a hand, in warning and as a plea. “I’m
too sore. Remember?”

“Then don’t fight me.”

“Reed—”

He caught her hands before she could use them,
pinning them on either side of her head. She had no choice but to allow his
lips to meet hers. He wasn’t aggressive, wasn’t hurting her; instead he was as
gentle and loving and tantalizing as it was possible to be. She needed to stop
him, stop this, but didn’t. She made a sound deep in her throat, of pleasure,
surrender, even she wasn’t sure. He raised his head, looked into her eyes for a
long moment, then kissed her again. It was still sweet and lazy, but deeper,
hotter, and could turn her on fire if she let it.

But she couldn’t afford to. Her fingers grew rigid
as she strained against his hold. He let go and lifted his head, but remained
sitting on the side of the bed.

“Why?” he asked, voice sounding ragged. “You want me
as much as I want you. Why are you fighting it so hard?”

“Because we could get in too deep.” He had to see
the honesty in that. She tried for lightness. “You don’t want me to go back to
California with a broken heart, do you?”

“I don’t want you to go back to California. Period.”

She shrugged, surprised she could be so casual. She
felt anything but casual. “But I will.”

He held her gaze for a very long moment. “We’ll
see.”

He stood and walked away. In the doorway, he paused,
then turned back.

She tensed. He smiled.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Was just thinking
maybe you should meet me at the front door with your sandwich. Might not be
safe visiting you in your bedroom again.”

She hadn’t invited him in here, but she knew how
difficult it was to best this guy, verbally or any other way. As she held her
silence, his cocky look grew, then he turned and left.

She scrunched up her face and looked at the ceiling.
He was good at that. He was too damned good at reading her.

*

Morning found Lainie so stiff and sore that she
fancied she could hear her bones creak as she moved. She downed a couple Advil
tablets and then turned in slow circles under the hot shower water until it ran
cold.

Miles sat alone at the table when she entered the
dining room. She filled a plate, poured coffee and joined him. She sat
gingerly, trying not to be obvious about it.

“Good morning, early bird,” she said. “Surprised to
see you up already. Something special going on?”

He didn’t return her greeting, but she figured he
probably wasn’t awake yet.

Today’s eggs had diced scallions, tomatoes, and
crumbled bacon in them. She examined them, wondering if there was something in
the mixture she couldn’t see. Maybe she’d be safer with just toast. “Are these
hot?” she asked. “With seasoning, I mean.”

“No.” He glanced at her plate. He seemed more
distracted than sleepy. “You’re safe enough with eggs. Tamale pie is the only
thing Rosalie makes special for Reed.”

She tested a small amount, relaxed and took a bigger
forkful. As she ate, she studied Miles. “Is something wrong?”

Meeting her eyes for the first time, he gave her a
slight shake of his head. “No, nothing wrong. Just have a change in mind I want
to talk over with you before I talk to Nelly and Reed.”

Uh-oh, she thought, dreading the coming
confrontation—and there was going to be one. If it concerned Nelly, it involved
her riding privileges. Because of yesterday’s misadventure, she’d suspected an
attempt might be made to curtail her riding freedom, but she’d expected it from
Reed. When he’d leaned casually against the door of the pickup, she’d thought
she’d bypassed the problem. Not so, she now realized. She put her fork down and
watched Miles.

“We’ve been lax,” he said carefully. Her impression
was that he was measuring his words. “And doing so we’ve allowed a dangerous
situation to develop. Yesterday could’ve had a different outcome, a tragic one.
You’re not used to the terrain, weather, or horses. We need to talk—you, me, Reed
and Nelly—and come up with a system where you can ride, yet be safe.”

Yep, exactly what she’d suspected. In Miles’s
generation, women were sheltered; most likely, that was what Reed had picked up
on in Miles’s relationship with his secretary. All other riders at the ranch
were big strong cowboys who’d learned how to ride before they’d learned how to
drive. The reaction to yesterday’s incident was to protect the only female by
bestowing upon her, for her own good, of course, a different set of rules from
everyone else.

But being treated differently, unequally, made
Lainie dependent, gave her little chance to succeed or excel, and struck at her
self-respect. In the long run—and she couldn’t understand how so many people,
male and female alike, hadn’t been able to grasp this simple fact—protecting
one from life’s perils so often made one even more vulnerable to those perils.

She shook her head. “No. I will not accept a
babysitter.”

His eyes narrowed. “That’s not what I’m proposing.”

She ignored the warning in his voice. “Then what are
you proposing?”

He didn’t respond, and she saw the veil lowering
over his features that told her the discussion was over. He made an impatient
move to push his chair back.

“This is a biggie, Miles. It’s a deal breaker.”

He paused in the act of standing, sat back down.
“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“That means I won’t allow you to take away any of my
freedom around here.”

Miles clearly wasn’t used to defiance. If Lainie
didn’t back down, she was going to be on her way home. But if Miles didn’t back
down, she was going to be on her way home anyway. This was a lose–lose
situation.

She put her hands palm down on the table, stared at
them, then looked back up. “Reed rode with me until he was sure I could handle
myself before he okayed me riding on my own. Why don’t you go out with me, too,
and see for yourself if I can do it or not?”

His long stare made her uncomfortable and she
fidgeted, then she grew impatient as well. She pushed her chair back, figuring
she might as well go and get started packing.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s go riding.”

While he saddled Irish, she saddled Glory. Nelly
studied his boss.

Miles mounted and led the way out, expecting Lainie
to follow, and the next half-hour continued in that vein. He might not have
been on top of a horse in a while, but he managed himself and Irish without a
problem. Silently, he led Glory and Lainie through every gait possible. He
executed some quick-about turns she was able to follow, and once he surprised
her by sharply pulling Irish in close to Glory. Glory shied and reared, but
Lainie didn’t panic. She maintained control, exercising sore muscles in order
to do it, and gritted her teeth against a groan. Taking even more effort, she
managed not to voice the coarse oath that came to mind.

“All right,” he mumbled finally. “Looks like you can
handle yourself and your horse.” He didn’t appear pleased with the fact.

When they returned to the stable, Lainie maintained
a stoic expression as she dismounted, not wanting to advertise how physically
uncomfortable she was. She looked up, caught Nelly’s gaze, and realized she
wasn’t hiding anything from him. And she noted that the attention he’d centered
on Miles before their ride was now on her.

She frowned.

He turned to his boss. “Be happy to do that for you,
Mr. Miles.”

Miles glanced his way, and Lainie caught his spark
of annoyance, as if he suspected his stable hand thought him incapable of
stripping his horse and properly grooming it. But his expression cleared as his
gaze locked with that of the elderly slight man, and his tension disappeared.

Lainie looked from one to the other. How could they
communicate like that, evidently understanding each other without either saying
a word?

“Much obliged, Nelly.” Miles strode away without a
backward glance.

Nelly turned to her. “Need to talk to you, little
missy.”

Wearily, she closed her eyes. She’d been poised to
fight this battle with Reed yesterday, then Miles this morning, and now Nelly,
too? She leaned her head against Glory’s muscled neck. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“That’s right. Not you. Me.”

She looked up.

“When I asked yesterday where you’re goin’ and you
said ‘yonder,’ I just laughed and watched you ride outta here, thinkin’ how
natural you look on top of a horse and about all you done learned since you got
here.”

She furrowed her brow as she tried to figure out
where he was going.

“Then when that horse came back by itself, tellin’
us you needed help, I didn’t know where to find you and that made me all
worried and helpless and scared. So I mean to change things so that don’t ever
happen again. When you want to go ridin’, you think about where you want to go
and you tell me. And if you think you might be deviatin’ from that course, you
tell me that, too. And once you’re out there, you don’t add any other place you
didn’t tell me about. That’s all I’m askin’.”

“That’s all,” she repeated. As her hand smoothed
Glory’s mane, Lainie searched for patience for this last battle.

“Yes’m.”

“Does everybody who wants a horse have to present
you with an itinerary?”

“No, little missy.”

“Then, Nelly, please...why should I be treated
differently?”

“Because you not be them, little missy. You be you.”

She remained silent.

He looked down at his scuffed boots, then back up.
“I care about all the people on this here ranch, but you’re special. That’s
just the way of it. I don’t never want to be so scared like that again that I’m
sick inside.”

And then she felt sick inside. Exhaustion hit her,
hard. But there was no defeat in it.

“I’m sorry,” she said, but she wasn’t apologizing for
the accident or even the flippant
yonder
. She regretted her resentment
against this wizened old man who stood before her, laying down the law. Yes,
she was being treated differently, but that was the way of it. Reed hadn’t
attempted to restrict her, Miles had and had then backed down, but Nelly wasn’t
going to back down.

And she understood. That was just the way of it.

“No need to be sorry, little missy.” Placing one
hand on her shoulder, he laid the other upon Glory’s mane. “Now I’m gonna take
care of both these horses here, and I want you to go rest. That be okay with
you?”

She nodded, no longer trying to hide how sore and
tired she was. “That be okay with me.”

A week later, Lainie was back on top of Glory again,
feeling cautious, but not afraid. She and Glory were still friends. She was
surprised and grateful she’d healed so quickly—and she was especially thankful
that she didn’t resent the verbal itinerary she’d had to present to Nelly.

But she was wary of Miles and Reed. Since everybody
knew everybody else’s business, she figured they had to know about Nelly’s new
rules, and that possibility bothered her more than the rules did. She wasn’t a
child in need of guidance, disliked the appearance of exactly that, and she
feared her acquiescence might give them ideas. It was tough enough already
holding her own against two bullheaded men. Evidently, however, it seemed that
although nothing about anyone else escaped Nelly’s attention, Nelly kept things
about himself and his own dealings under his hat.

So life at Lone Tree went on with its surprises,
joys and aggravations.

One afternoon Reed entered Miles’s office, had a
short conversation with him, then in resignation walked over to the sofa.
Standing behind it, he slouched against the back of it, stared at the bronze
carpet and folded his arms. His expression told Lainie that if a tin can were
handy he’d give it a good kick.

“My own fault,” he muttered. “I should’ve ordered
the confounded thing two months ago.”

Lainie had overheard the brief exchange. Reed was
tired of doing without a printer, had found the one he wanted online, but it
wasn’t stocked in town. He couldn’t spare one of the men or himself, had asked
point blank if Miles would volunteer to go after it, but Miles wasn’t
volunteering.

“I’ll go,” Lainie offered. “Nothing waiting for me here
that can’t wait a little longer.”

Reed’s eyes remained downcast. “It’s close to a
hundred miles.”

“They’re positive they can’t deliver it sooner?”
Miles asked.

“They said two weeks. I asked three times and got
the same answer three times.”

“I said I’d go.” What was the problem? They couldn’t
hear her?

“You sure?” Miles asked, looking her way. “Round
trip will take up the rest of the day.”

“Not the way she drives,” Reed said.

Her gaze traveled back to him.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He gave her back stare
for stare. “You’ve got a heavy foot. You trying to claim you don’t?”