Authors: Patti Berg
She stared at the prairie for a moment, then faced him again. “Don’t you get frustrated with your work on occasion?”
“Yes,” Mike admitted. “When the winters are too long and the summers are too short, which is most of the time.”
“But you stay here anyway.”
“I grew up here. My dad worked for Jack’s dad, and I’d watch him come in from the range every night feeling satisfied with what he’d done during the day, whether it was riding herd, branding calves, or stringing fence. I never wanted anything else.”
“So how come you became a minister?”
He chuckled, hating to admit the truth, but she’d asked and she was going to hear all the sordid details. “For the worst of reasons.”
She dropped her foot back into the stirrup and half turned in her saddle. “You mean you didn’t stumble across a burning bush in the desert, that a voice didn’t cry out to you saying, ‘You shall minister to my people’?”
“Not exactly. I spent eighteen years trapped in a car every Sunday because the closest church was two hours away and my folks wouldn’t miss a service for love or money. I always hated Christmas morning, getting dragged away from my presents because we had to go to church. ‘You can open them later,’ my dad used to say.” He laughed at the memories. “We wouldn’t get home till late in the afternoon and Jack—who didn’t have to go to church—was always on the lookout for us to return so he could brag about his new toys, show them off, and I hadn’t opened even one.”
Charity laughed lightly, the sound ringing across the plains.
“Laugh all you want,” Mike said, keeping his grin at bay, “but Jack got a BB gun one year and had all day to practice before I got mine. He was shooting cans before I got my Red Ryder out of the box, and he gloated about being the best when I was still figuring out how to aim the thing.”
“So what does that have to do with you becoming a minister?”
“I told you. I didn’t like the long drive into Sheridan.”
“Why didn’t someone build a church out here?”
“It’s easy enough to build a church. It’s a whole lot harder to find someone who wants to live in the middle of nowhere, or come out here just on Sundays to preach. I figured I’d have to keep on commuting if something wasn’t done about the problem, so I decided I’d take the job.”
“That’s it?” she asked, her eyes narrowing. “That was your
calling
? Jealousy and a sore butt?”
“That’s it.”
“No college? No seminary school? Someone just waved a wand over your head and
zap
you’re a preacher?”
He shook his head. “A lot of years in college with a degree in psychology and a masters in theology. Then”—he smiled—“someone zapped me and made me a preacher. Jack’s dad gave me a piece of land to call my own, and he and the Atkinsons, who own the neighboring ranch, built the church.”
“Have you ever regretted it?”
“No.” He meant that with every fiber of his being, even though his faith had taken a bad stumble when Jessie had died. Even now, there were times he got burning mad about the way things happened in the world. Sure he had doubts sometimes, wondered whether he was fit to spread God’s word. But he’d never turn his back on the calling he believed in or the people he ministered, too.
“I’ve always loved being a rancher and riding the range,” he said. “And every time I come out here, I realize I’d have none of this if it wasn’t for God.” He gazed out across the stark but beautiful prairie. “Counseling someone in trouble; marrying a young couple anxious to start a life together; preaching on Sunday morning; I do it to thank God for blessing me with all that I have. I also do it because my life felt fuller—richer, I guess— once I became a minister.”
Charity maneuvered Jezebel in front of him, and not for the first time he noticed that her smile was far more beautiful than the land he loved. “I had the feeling there was a little more to it than convenience,” she said.
He laughed. “Yeah, well, don’t make a saint out of me. My congregation’s small and for the most part, I’m only needed on Sunday. That gives me time to manage Jack’s ranch and take care of my own place. In between I’m on call if someone needs me.”
“I never would have pegged you as being modest.”
“Just honest.” He grinned. “Okay, I’ll admit, sometimes it gets overwhelming, but I don’t plan on giving anything up.”
“Do you make time for a personal life?”
He shrugged, letting her see a slight smile on his face rather than a frown. He didn’t see any need in making her think something was missing in his life—or that he cared. “My work is my personal life.”
“So is mine.” He couldn’t miss her frown and wondered if she was lonely, too.
Again he faced the far-off cliffs. The sun was rising high in the sky, peering out from behind a thickening barrier of dark clouds and beating down on the rugged red rocks.
Something moved high on the promontory. Something black and gray, a wild stallion whose mane whipped about in the breeze.
“We’re being watched.”
Charity turned her horse toward the bluff and followed his line of vision. “Is it Satan?”
“Yeah. There’s no telling how long he’s been watching us.”
“What do we do now?”
“We go after him.”
A sudden gleam radiated in her eyes, a sparkle that didn’t come from makeup and stage lights but from deep inside her. “You can go after him, but I’m going to chase him away.” She laughed, dug her boots into Jezebel’s flanks, and tore off across the prairie.
Blasted woman
! Stubborn. Headstrong. Trouble.
Why he wanted her baffled him. But he wanted her like he’d never wanted anything in his life.
He nudged Buck’s flanks, and in less than a heartbeat they were charging after the mare and her rider.
The wind beat against Mike, chilling him to the bone, but nothing could slow him down as he and Buck sped toward Charity. They dodged the slush and mud that Jezebel kicked up until finally the two horses raced neck and neck.
He could hear Charity’s laughter over the thundering of hooves. Saw the smile on her face, in her wild, excited eyes. The stocking cap had blown from her head and tendrils of hair that had escaped from her braid whipped about her. She’d long ago rubbed the zinc oxide from her face and her cheeks had turned from pink to flaming red. He tried to push the thought away, but he couldn’t help but wonder if she looked that flushed and beautiful and wild in the midst of making love.
It was a tormenting thought, especially for a man who’d been celibate for six long years. Maybe it was time to stop being tormented.
Charity made him forget his worries. Made him forget his guilt—at least she’d helped him push it to the back of his mind. Maybe he could move on, think about having a woman in his life again.
Rash decision or not, Charity was the woman he wanted.
Catching a quick glimpse of the wild horse which had been his original prey, he tore off toward a winding, icy ravine, letting the stallion lead the chase. They ran full out, through the gravel of a long-empty streambed and between the boulders that lined its side. His heart beat hard and heavy. The thrill of the chase was the next best thing to making love. If he couldn’t have one—for now, at least—he’d give the other all he had.
Satan darted up the side of the ravine, his powerful legs and hooves sending sagebrush, rocks, and dirt cascading down the side. Following the beast would be foolhardy—but Mike was willing to take his chances.
He whipped around in the saddle and saw Charity coming up behind him, excitement still in her eyes. If he went up the face of the canyon, she’d want to go too.
He looked back at the rocky cliff, at the narrow elk path knifing almost straight up the side. He could make it but he wouldn’t put Charity’s life at risk. He’d tell her to stay put, but... He shook his head at the thought. Charity would follow. She’d look at the path and say, “If you can do it, so can I, and nothing you say or do will make me change my mind.” He wasn’t going to give her the opportunity to be daring and foolhardy—to end up injured or dead.
He pulled Buck to a halt and rested his hands on the saddle horn. He inhaled deeply and let the air out slowly. His heartbeat took a little longer to calm.
“What are you stopping for?” Charity asked, brushing her hair from her face with gloved hands when she and Jezebel stopped beside him.
“Decided I’m hungry.”
She glanced down the winding ravine, then turned her gaze toward the steep incline. Her eyes narrowed into a frown. “What, you decided Jezebel and I would never make it up that cliff?”
“Jez might make it,” he said flatly. “There’s a good chance you wouldn’t.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“I’m not sure of anything, but I’m not willing to find out what the real outcome would be.”
“Shouldn’t it be my choice?”
“Next time.” He grinned. “I’m feeling autocratic at the moment.”
Again she stared at the steep climb of the ravine. “You’re just going to let Satan go?”
“For now.”
A sly smile touched her lips. “You would have gone up the cliff if I hadn’t been with you, wouldn’t you?”
“More than likely.”
“You’re probably thinking I’m nothing but trouble.”
“I’ve thought that a time or two. But right now I’m thinking that it’s cold out, that I’m hungry, and that I’d rather be sitting next to a fire... with you.”
He couldn’t miss the doubt in her eyes. “Why?”
Because she was trouble. Because getting close to her was as desirable as taking a bite of forbidden fruit. Because he no longer had the willpower to fight the attraction he felt for her.
Nudging Buck gently, he circled his horse until he and Charity were face to face. He knew his gloves were cold and rough, but he cupped them tenderly over her inflamed cheeks. He could almost feel her warmth seeping into his body.
And then he leaned forward, slowly, methodically, and kissed her.
His lips lingered longer than he’d planned, not nearly as long as he wanted. If kissing her was a mistake, it was the most rewarding mistake he’d made in his entire life.
“There’s a line shack not far from here,” he whispered against her mouth. “It’s not the most comfortable place, not much in it but an old potbellied stove and a bed, but I can—”
Charity jerked away. “
A bed
? Good heavens, Mike! You’re a minister.”
Suddenly she whipped Jezebel around and beat a mean streak up the ravine.
Blasted woman
! All he wanted to do was build a fire in the stove and sit on the bed while they ate the sandwiches she’d made.
Sex hadn’t even crossed his mind.
At least that’s what he told himself as he and Buck once more went on the chase.
Sex!
That’s all he wanted, Charity fumed. A roll in the hay in some out-of-the-way line shack where no one would see or hear. How on earth could she possibly have thought Mike Flynn was different from other men?
Because of Mike, she and Jezebel were dashing along the precarious rim of a rocky ravine, which was sheer madness and screamed trouble with a capital
T
.
Damn! Double damn
! Why couldn’t Mike have been happy with just a kiss? Why did he have to bring a bed into the mix? Why did he have to be like all the other men she’d come in contact with? Why couldn’t he get to know her, spend time with her, maybe even fall in love with her before wanting to rip off her clothes?
Because he was a man, the kind of man she needed to stay away from because ... because ... oh, because she liked him too darn much!
But that didn’t give him any special privileges. She hadn’t given in to millionaires willing to pay for a sample, to lithe dancers whose bodies could move in all sorts of extraordinarily sexual ways and would probably do a wonderful job initiating a woman in the ways of making love. She hadn’t put out for bouncers, high-rollers, casino bosses, Marines, or high school jocks.
She certainly wasn’t going to give in to a man of the cloth, a man whose principles should be loftier and more exalted than a mere mortal’s.
“Slow down Charity!”
She heard him hollering from somewhere behind her but she wasn’t about to comply. Instead she leaned over and whispered a few sweet nothin’s into Jezebel’s ear, and the horse leaped forward at a blinding pace.
She had no desire to talk to Mike right now, not while she was angry. He’d just feed her another line, maybe try to kiss her again so her legs would turn to jelly, then sweep her up on his steed and carry her off to his secret hideaway on the plains.
No, she wouldn’t stop, she wouldn’t slow down, and she wouldn’t give him another chance to mesmerize her, to make her fall into his arms and then, when he had her completely under his spell, control her every action and try to control her every thought—like her father had done for too many years. If she had to stay an unmarried, frustrated, lonely virgin the rest of her life, so be it!
Of course, Mike was making the prospect of staying a virgin seem like an eternal hell.
She heard Buck’s thundering hooves coming up along side her, saw the fog of the horse’s breath out of the corner of her eye. She tried to go faster, but Jezebel had only so much steam. The mare was slowing and there was no way Charity could rein her to the right or left because the cliffs jutted straight up on either side of them.
“Damn it, Charity!” Mike yelled. “You’re gonna get us both killed if you don’t stop right this second.”
He reached across the distance between them and grabbed Jezebel’s harness. In another second he’d either be sharing Jezebel’s saddle or on the ground, getting dragged under the horse’s hooves. As infuriated as Charity was, she didn’t want Mike hurt.
Drawing on the reins, she managed to slow Jezebel and finally brought her to a halt.
Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm down before she looked at Mike. When she faced him, she could feel the burning fury radiating from his eyes. His chest rose high and fell hard and she could see the muscles of his jaw visibly tense.
To say he was mad would have been an understatement.
“Mind telling me what the hell got into you?” he asked through nearly clenched teeth. “You could have broken your damn fool neck and mine as well, not to mention the fact that you could have caused the death of a couple of horses.”
“Nobody died,” she threw back. “Nobody got hurt. But the next time you come on to me, the next time you try to get in my pants, I swear I’ll... I’ll—”
“
What
on earth are you talking about?”
“Don’t try to sound all innocent with me. I’ve been around enough men to know you all want the same thing. Well, I’m not cheap and I’m not easy, and there’s no way I’m going to run off to some bed in some line shack, just so you can have your way with me.”
“I kissed you! That’s it.”
“But you wanted more.”
“Yeah, I wanted more. But that doesn’t mean I’d rip your clothes off of you, throw you down on the floor, and have my way with you.”
“Am I supposed to read your mind?”
“You’re supposed to trust me.”
“I don’t trust any man.”
“I’m not just any man.”
“And I’m not just any woman.”
His eyes blazed and his gloved hands tightened into fists, sure signs that he was getting angrier by the second. “You’ve got that right, lady. You’re maddening, frustrating, and pigheaded.”
“
Me
? What about you? You’re stubborn, exasperating, and ... and ... you’re a minister. For God’s sake, Mike, you even swear up a blue streak!”
“I think the Man upstairs would forgive me, considering what I’ve been forced to deal with.”
“And what, pray tell, have you been forced to deal with?”
“You! Until you came into my life, I could count the number of times I said hell or damn on one or two hands, and suddenly they’re punctuating everything I say. Ever since you barged into my life, everything I’ve tried to protect, like my sanity and my privacy, has been shot to hell.”
“You’re the one who insisted on going to my bedroom last night.”
“Yeah, to look at your ankle.”
“But you took extra liberties and ran your hand halfway up my—”
“Did you try to stop me?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because it felt good.”
He glared at her a moment. Slowly the dimple deepened in his cheek and he chuckled. “Yeah, it did feel good. But that doesn’t mean I’d try to take more.”
“How could I possibly know that?”
“Because you can trust me. Because you should forget what you’ve experienced with every other man and just look at me for what I am.”
“A minister?”
“No, as a man who wouldn’t take advantage of you, no matter how much he wanted you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Do you want me?”
He laughed, letting out an ounce of pent-up frustration. “Against my better judgment, yes.”
“But I’m trouble.”
“And your life is in Vegas and my life is here. The way I see it you and I should stay far apart until you leave. I didn’t want you coining with me today. I didn’t want you getting between me and Satan, and I didn’t want you getting under my skin, but you’ve done all those things.”
“I’m not a tease and I didn’t set out to get under your skin. All I planned to do was keep you away from Satan.” She couldn’t miss the questioning rise of his brow. “Okay, so I like you, but I didn’t set out to like you. I sure as heck didn’t come out here to the middle of nowhere expecting to fall under your spell, and I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t run your fingers up my leg last night.”
“And I might not have done that if you hadn’t wiggled your fanny up against my—”
“I was uncomfortable. Saddles aren’t built for two people.”
“The problem is, you and I aren’t going to fit together no matter where we are.”
His words shouldn’t have hurt her, but they did. She didn’t want to get involved with Mike because he’d never understand what she did for a living. He’d try to change her. Try to make her the good little woman—and that’s not what she wanted to be. But... but she hated to hear him say there could never be anything between them, especially when there was so much about him that was good and strong and moral, things she would have wanted in a man—
if
she’d ever wanted one.
“Did you ever meet a woman who was a good fit?” she asked, figuring she might as well torture herself by learning more intimate details about Mike’s life—a life she’d never fit into.
“Yes. My wife.”
Charity’s throat tightened. “I didn’t know you’d been married.”
“Once, but never again.”
She grabbed hold of her braid and twisted it nervously in her hands as she studied Mike’s strong, somber profile. He was scanning their surroundings again, a fixed stare on his face.
Jezebel yanked at the reins Charity had been holding far too tight and grazed on the few blades of prairie grass scattered about. The mare stepped close to Buck and Charity’s leg nudged Mike’s, but he didn’t look toward her. He’d grown quiet and far too pensive.
“Are you divorced?” Charity asked.
Mike shook his head. “She died six years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
A hint of sadness drifted across his face before it faded, leaving in his eyes a tender remembrance as he looked toward the cloudy sky, at the red and gold buttes and the stands of pine and aspen. “Jessie—my wife—used to come out here and paint. Not in the winter, because she never could get used to the cold, but in the spring and summer when the sky was blue and the thaw made the streams run full.”
It seemed obvious now. Jessie Flynn—the painter—had been Mike’s wife. That’s why his house was littered with her watercolors and oils, reminders of the woman he’d loved. Too many reminders.
Suddenly she remembered the photograph he kept in his Bible, the one of the pretty, petite blonde. Was that another reminder?
“I saw a picture in your Bible. Was that Jessie?”
He nodded, silent again, but she sensed there was a whole lot more he wanted to say.
“I looked at her paintings while you were getting cleaned up this morning. She was really good.”
“Yeah, she was.”
“I liked the one she did of Satan. It’s almost like he stood still for her while she painted every strand of hair, every scar.”
“She never missed a detail.” He laughed as he took off his hat and combed his fingers through his hair. “There were times when I wished she’d just let her hair down and not worry about everything being perfect, but that wasn’t her style.”
He shoved the black Stetson back on his head and adjusted it so the sun missed his eyes. “She was painting ivy vines on the top of the kitchen walls when I snapped that picture. Each leaf had to look real, right down to the veins. She was meticulous with everything. The house was always spotless, she made gourmet meals when meat and potatoes would have been just fine.”
He took a deep breath. “That night she was exhausted. She’d been tired all week. I should have known something was wrong when she let me help her fix dinner. She’d always insisted on doing it herself, but that night was different. I should have...” He shook his head, grief farrowing his brow. “I should have stayed home with her the next day.”
“What happened?” Charity asked softly.
“Her heart gave out. Who would have thought a twenty-eight-year-old woman could be happy and healthy one day and the next be lying in a coma, hooked up to machines that kept her alive.”
Charity curled her gloved hand over Mike’s. She was afraid he might pull away, but he didn’t. Instead he tilted his head toward her and smiled. “I didn’t mean to dump all of that on you.”
“I don’t mind listening.”
“Then listen to me now. Don’t run off. Don’t jump to any conclusions. Just listen.” He shifted in his saddle and in a move Charity took to mean he wasn’t going to let her run off even if she wanted to, he slipped his fingers around Jezebel’s bridle and pulled her and the horse closer to him.
“There hasn’t been anyone else since Jessie. I haven’t wanted anyone else. I haven’t thought about anyone else ... until you.” His clarification left her nearly speechless. “As for the line shack, I’d planned to build a fire so we could warm up. And the bed ... well”—he grinned—“there’s no table, no chairs. I figured sitting on the bed would be better than sitting on the cold floor while we ate.”
Red-hot embarrassment crept up her neck and cheeks. “
I
should have known you didn’t have sex on your mind.”
He chuckled, and she could see his fingers tighten around Jezebel’s bridle. “I’m a man, Charity. Sex was very much on my mind. But trust me,” he added quickly, apparently thinking she might run off after that comment, “I practice what I preach. How can I counsel kids to wait for marriage if I don’t do the same thing?”
“I thought you weren’t interested in getting married.”
He was quiet a moment, staring again at the length of the ravine. “Some days I’m not sure what I want.”
The next words slipped from her mouth without thinking. “Did you know what you wanted when you kissed me?”
He let go of Jezebel’s bridle and threaded his gloved fingers through the hair that had fallen from her braid. His green eyes were warm. Intense. “I knew that you were the last woman on earth I should be interested in. I knew you and I would fight over anything and everything. I knew I shouldn’t kiss you, but I couldn’t help myself.”
They weren’t endearing words of love and she should have gotten into a huff because he was so blunt, but she knew he was right. They were all wrong for each other—that, however, didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy just one more kiss before they called a halt to this meaningless, senseless, totally unsuitable tryst.
Mike took off his hat and with his fingers still threaded through her hair, drew her face close to his. “You’re not going to run if I kiss you again, are you?”