Summer Nights
Page 13
He drew in a breath. “I’m braced. Go for it.”
She nodded and stared directly at him. “I’ve decided we should be friends.”
He waited for the second part of her statement, but there didn’t seem to be one. “Aren’t we friends now?”
“I’d like us to be, but you don’t trust me. Because I remind you of Rachel.”
He held in a groan. “It’s not that simple.”
“It should be. I’m not a bad person and I’m nothing like your ex-wife.”
“How do you know? You’ve never met her.” He held up both hands. “You know what I mean.”
“I know you’re a good guy and she let you go. My first husband was a jerk. It took me a while to figure that out. If he’d been a good guy, I’d still be with him.”
He didn’t like thinking about her married to someone else, so he stopped.
Annabelle shrugged. “We can’t really be friends until you trust me and right now you have no reason to. Yes, your horse is in love with me, but I don’t think you see him as much of a character reference. So this morning I’m going to show you my world. And I hope that when you see it, you’ll understand me a little better, maybe start to trust me and then we can be friends.”
She almost made sense, which made him more than a little nervous. What he couldn’t tell her was he didn’t want to like her. Not more than he already did. That not trusting her allowed him to be distant. Okay, he would admit it. Safe. Because Annabelle was trouble and danger and everything bad in one petite, sexy package.
He told himself to say no. That he’d already done enough by agreeing to help her learn to ride. He’d been neighborly, even accommodating. Now he could politely tell her to go away.
“I’m busy,” he began.
Her green gaze settled on his face and he could feel her disappointment all the way across the yard. Then her chin came up and she marched determinedly around her car. Once there she held open the passenger door.
“I don’t think so.”
He knew he could force the issue. Be blunt. But in getting his way, he would have to watch the bright light go out of her eyes. He would see her slim shoulders slump and know he was the cause. Damn it all to hell, he didn’t think he could stand that.
Yet another testament to how bad he had it for her. Women, he thought with a sigh. What had God been thinking?
He walked around the rear of her car and slid into the passenger seat. She grinned and closed the door, then got behind the wheel.
“You won’t regret this,” she promised. “I’m a very safe driver.”
It wasn’t her driving that had him worried, he thought as she started the engine. It was the proximity. The sweet scent of her surrounded him, teasing and delighting. The car was small, the space confined. He could see too much. The slight dip in the top of her dress when she sat that exposed the swell of her br**sts every time she drew in a breath.
Trying to find something safer to focus on, he dropped his gaze only to find the skirt had ridden up some, exposing half her thigh. Not the good half, but still. It was enough to make him wonder if she had the heat cranked on or what.
“Technically I’m not working today,” she said as she headed out of the ranch and onto the main road. “Summer hours and all that. So I use the extra time to visit some of our shut-ins. Obviously when we get the bookmobile we’ll have regular hours. Right now I call ahead and make sure my visits are convenient.”
He rolled down the window, wishing he could stick his head out like a dog. At least that would be a distraction. “What happens in winter?”
“It depends on how bad the snow is and when I can get away. We’re open longer hours, but usually someone will cover for me so I can get out to see those who can’t come to us.”
If he hadn’t bought Khatar he could have simply given her the money for her bookmobile and been done with it, he thought grimly. Maybe he could talk to Rafe about borrowing a hundred grand for a few months. Anything to avoid the torture of being trapped in a car with her.
“The first stop is up the mountain. Three brothers bought land together. To be honest, I’m not sure how they’ve made a living all these years. Someone said they’d sold trees to lumber companies, but that’s not something you can do every year. It takes time for new trees to grow. I’ve heard whispers of a gold mine and someone else said she thinks they’re growing pot, but I have my doubts.”
She chattered on about the brothers and their connection to the community and how Alfred loved mysteries but Albert was more into books that made him cry. Always a challenge for her. That Alastair had died two years ago and the other two brothers still hadn’t gotten over the loss. The wives didn’t seem that interested in reading, disappearing into the house when she arrived. She’d tried to make friends, but they were apparently only tight with each other. Like sisters.
“I’m an only child,” she said. “When I was growing up, I always wished I had a brother or sister. You’re lucky.”
“In many ways,” he muttered, trying not to look at her bare legs. He sucked in a breath and forced himself to focus on the conversation. At least it would be a distraction.
“My brothers and I have always been close.” He thought about Rafe and Clay. “At least I’ve gotten along with both of them. They’ve had some trouble.”
“Why?”
“Our dad died when we were kids. Rafe’s the oldest. Mom depended on him to help her out. Probably more than she should have. He worried, did the brunt of the chores. I remember he was always so serious, so determined.”
He glanced out the window. They’d turned off the highway and were now driving up the mountain. Trees crowded the road and shaded them from the bright sun.
“After Dad died, there wasn’t much money. Mom worked as a housekeeper for the old bastard who owned the Castle Ranch. He didn’t pay her squat, instead promising he would leave her the ranch when he died.”
She glanced at him, then turned her attention back to the road. “I thought May and your brother only came here a few months ago.”
“They did. After the old guy died, he left the ranch to some relatives back east. We were turned out in a matter of days. Rafe was happy. By then he hated the ranch and couldn’t wait to get anywhere that wasn’t here. I hated leaving and vowed when I grew up, I’d buy my own place and no one would ever tell me to get out again.”
“Which you made happen.”
“It took some work, but yes, I have my land.”
“And your very fancy horses.”
“Very fancy horses.”
“What are you going to do with Khatar?”
“Train him, get him well known, then breed him.”
“Such a life. Am I getting in the way of the training?”
“No. I’m spending a lot of time getting the new stables ready. I was going to work with him this winter.”
She smiled. “He’s really not a bad horse. He’s very gentle.”
“For you.”
“You have to admire his taste.”
“I kind of do.”
Their eyes met for a second, then she looked away. But not before he saw a flicker of what could only be called interest. Desire hit him square in the gut…and lower. He swore under his breath. He reminded himself that the safest thing was to keep his distance. But right then, he couldn’t quite see the logic of not having that which he wanted most.
Fortunately, she turned onto a dirt road. Her car rattled and moaned in protest.
“You can see why all-wheel drive would be helpful,” she said as she bounced in her seat. “I can’t get through to see them in winter. That’s a long time to go without a book or a movie.”
“Do they get to town?”
“Some.”
While he liked country life, he enjoyed being able to get out whenever he wanted. Being cut off for winter wasn’t his idea of a good time.
The dirt road narrowed and the trees seemed to move in.
“Did you tell them we were coming?” he asked, picturing a bunch of old guys with rifles and questionable vision.
“Yes. They’ll have phone service until the weather gets bad.”
The dirt road curved, then widened. As they drove around, the space opened up onto a cleared flat area with three small houses clustered together. The houses were nearly identical, with peaked roofs and plenty of windows. Big porches wrapped around each of them and a pair of rocking chairs sat to the right of the front doors. Five of those chairs were occupied by the oldest people Shane had ever seen.
Two wrinkled little men and three wrinkled little women stared at them. They looked like those apple-head dolls, all brown and bent, with raisin eyes and old-fashioned clothes.
As the car came to a stop, all five of them rose. The women ducked into the house and the men slowly, very, very slowly, stepped off the porches and headed toward them.
“Annabelle!” the wizened little men yelled as one.
She got out and hurried toward them where she was hugged and her cheeks pinched. Shane wasn’t sure, but thought maybe the old guy on the left patted her butt.
He was introduced and shook hands. He was careful not to squeeze too hard.
Albert, or maybe it was Alfred, followed Annabelle to the back of the car, where she had a dozen or so books in a small box.
“So, you’re a friend of Annabelle’s,” Alfred, or maybe Albert, said to Shane. “She’s a pretty lady.”
“Yes, she is.”
Beady dark eyes stared into his. “You best not take advantage of her, boy.” Thick, white eyebrows twitched menacingly. “She’s special and while my brother and I aren’t as young as we used to be, we can still shoot a squirrel a quarter of a mile away. You get my drift?”
Shane nodded, not sure if he should believe the old guy, but not willing to test the theory.
“Unless you intend to marry her,” his new friend said with a tooth-gapped guffaw. “Which I’d say makes you a lucky bastard. She’s a looker. And has good taste in reading. Don’t know if she can cook, though.”
Shane held up both hands. “Annabelle and I are friends.”
“Bullshit. There’s a man and a woman and there’s being dead. Not much in between. My Elizabeth and I have been married seventy-two years. You think we save ourselves for Saturday night?”
That clear definition of too much information was accompanied by an elbow nudge and a wink. Shane took a step back, tried to smile and wondered if anyone would notice if he simply turned and jogged down the road, back to town. It was maybe ten or fifteen miles. He should be motivated enough to do that with no problem.
“Albert, come look at what I brought. I found a new author I think you’re really going to like.”
Twenty minutes later, his stomach protesting the moonshine Alfred had insisted he sample, Shane leaned his head back against the passenger seat of her car and closed his eyes.
“How did you find them in the first place?” he asked.
“They called the library one day last summer and asked if someone could bring them some books. That there was too much traffic in the city for them to feel comfortable driving there.”
“Sure. Because Fool’s Gold has what? Eight traffic lights?”
She laughed. “It’s probably a lot to them. I think the brothers come down the mountain three or four times a year. It’s a different world, but they’re good people.”
Easy for her to say. She hadn’t been threatened by a horny man pushing a hundred.
“I don’t think I want to meet any of your other library patrons,” he told her.
She laughed. “Don’t worry. You’ll like Ava. She’s lovely. A computer programmer who has MS. She gets to the library when she can, but when her MS acts up, it’s easier for me to bring books to her.”
“A computer programmer who doesn’t read
ebooks?”
“Some people prefer the feel of paper in their hands. It’s a tactile thing.”
He could relate to being tactile, but not about a book.
* * *
ANNABELLE HELD OUT THE small gift bag she’d brought with her. “I know casseroles are traditional, but I’m not the greatest cook so bringing one was risky.”
Montana held open the front door to her house and laughed. “If you could see my freezer, you would so not be apologizing for anything that isn’t edible. Seriously, we have enough food to last until 2021. I had to send casseroles home with both my sisters and my mom.” She hugged Annabelle. “Thanks for coming.”
“Thank you for inviting me.”
Montana glanced in the bag, then looked up, her brown eyes bright with excitement. “Really?”
“Her new summer trilogy on audio. I thought you could listen while you did the baby thing.”
“You’re so thoughtful. Thank you. Please—come in.”
Annabelle stepped into the large house. Sunlight poured in front of the second-story window above the double door. Hardwood floors gleamed. The foyer led to a large living room, with a dining room big enough to seat twenty off to the left. Even so, the house had a homey feel. Despite the size of the rooms, Annabelle sensed there was plenty of love to fill every corner.
Montana led her past the formal living room, through a restaurant-size kitchen and into a bright family room. Little Skye lay in a bassinet, her tiny hands waving when she saw her mom.
Annabelle felt her chest tighten a little at the sight of the infant. She didn’t consider herself overly maternal, but she’d always thought she would have a family someday. Her divorce had put those dreams on hold. Now she had to figure out a way to resurrect them again.
She nodded and stared directly at him. “I’ve decided we should be friends.”
He waited for the second part of her statement, but there didn’t seem to be one. “Aren’t we friends now?”
“I’d like us to be, but you don’t trust me. Because I remind you of Rachel.”
He held in a groan. “It’s not that simple.”
“It should be. I’m not a bad person and I’m nothing like your ex-wife.”
“How do you know? You’ve never met her.” He held up both hands. “You know what I mean.”
“I know you’re a good guy and she let you go. My first husband was a jerk. It took me a while to figure that out. If he’d been a good guy, I’d still be with him.”
He didn’t like thinking about her married to someone else, so he stopped.
Annabelle shrugged. “We can’t really be friends until you trust me and right now you have no reason to. Yes, your horse is in love with me, but I don’t think you see him as much of a character reference. So this morning I’m going to show you my world. And I hope that when you see it, you’ll understand me a little better, maybe start to trust me and then we can be friends.”
She almost made sense, which made him more than a little nervous. What he couldn’t tell her was he didn’t want to like her. Not more than he already did. That not trusting her allowed him to be distant. Okay, he would admit it. Safe. Because Annabelle was trouble and danger and everything bad in one petite, sexy package.
He told himself to say no. That he’d already done enough by agreeing to help her learn to ride. He’d been neighborly, even accommodating. Now he could politely tell her to go away.
“I’m busy,” he began.
Her green gaze settled on his face and he could feel her disappointment all the way across the yard. Then her chin came up and she marched determinedly around her car. Once there she held open the passenger door.
“I don’t think so.”
He knew he could force the issue. Be blunt. But in getting his way, he would have to watch the bright light go out of her eyes. He would see her slim shoulders slump and know he was the cause. Damn it all to hell, he didn’t think he could stand that.
Yet another testament to how bad he had it for her. Women, he thought with a sigh. What had God been thinking?
He walked around the rear of her car and slid into the passenger seat. She grinned and closed the door, then got behind the wheel.
“You won’t regret this,” she promised. “I’m a very safe driver.”
It wasn’t her driving that had him worried, he thought as she started the engine. It was the proximity. The sweet scent of her surrounded him, teasing and delighting. The car was small, the space confined. He could see too much. The slight dip in the top of her dress when she sat that exposed the swell of her br**sts every time she drew in a breath.
Trying to find something safer to focus on, he dropped his gaze only to find the skirt had ridden up some, exposing half her thigh. Not the good half, but still. It was enough to make him wonder if she had the heat cranked on or what.
“Technically I’m not working today,” she said as she headed out of the ranch and onto the main road. “Summer hours and all that. So I use the extra time to visit some of our shut-ins. Obviously when we get the bookmobile we’ll have regular hours. Right now I call ahead and make sure my visits are convenient.”
He rolled down the window, wishing he could stick his head out like a dog. At least that would be a distraction. “What happens in winter?”
“It depends on how bad the snow is and when I can get away. We’re open longer hours, but usually someone will cover for me so I can get out to see those who can’t come to us.”
If he hadn’t bought Khatar he could have simply given her the money for her bookmobile and been done with it, he thought grimly. Maybe he could talk to Rafe about borrowing a hundred grand for a few months. Anything to avoid the torture of being trapped in a car with her.
“The first stop is up the mountain. Three brothers bought land together. To be honest, I’m not sure how they’ve made a living all these years. Someone said they’d sold trees to lumber companies, but that’s not something you can do every year. It takes time for new trees to grow. I’ve heard whispers of a gold mine and someone else said she thinks they’re growing pot, but I have my doubts.”
She chattered on about the brothers and their connection to the community and how Alfred loved mysteries but Albert was more into books that made him cry. Always a challenge for her. That Alastair had died two years ago and the other two brothers still hadn’t gotten over the loss. The wives didn’t seem that interested in reading, disappearing into the house when she arrived. She’d tried to make friends, but they were apparently only tight with each other. Like sisters.
“I’m an only child,” she said. “When I was growing up, I always wished I had a brother or sister. You’re lucky.”
“In many ways,” he muttered, trying not to look at her bare legs. He sucked in a breath and forced himself to focus on the conversation. At least it would be a distraction.
“My brothers and I have always been close.” He thought about Rafe and Clay. “At least I’ve gotten along with both of them. They’ve had some trouble.”
“Why?”
“Our dad died when we were kids. Rafe’s the oldest. Mom depended on him to help her out. Probably more than she should have. He worried, did the brunt of the chores. I remember he was always so serious, so determined.”
He glanced out the window. They’d turned off the highway and were now driving up the mountain. Trees crowded the road and shaded them from the bright sun.
“After Dad died, there wasn’t much money. Mom worked as a housekeeper for the old bastard who owned the Castle Ranch. He didn’t pay her squat, instead promising he would leave her the ranch when he died.”
She glanced at him, then turned her attention back to the road. “I thought May and your brother only came here a few months ago.”
“They did. After the old guy died, he left the ranch to some relatives back east. We were turned out in a matter of days. Rafe was happy. By then he hated the ranch and couldn’t wait to get anywhere that wasn’t here. I hated leaving and vowed when I grew up, I’d buy my own place and no one would ever tell me to get out again.”
“Which you made happen.”
“It took some work, but yes, I have my land.”
“And your very fancy horses.”
“Very fancy horses.”
“What are you going to do with Khatar?”
“Train him, get him well known, then breed him.”
“Such a life. Am I getting in the way of the training?”
“No. I’m spending a lot of time getting the new stables ready. I was going to work with him this winter.”
She smiled. “He’s really not a bad horse. He’s very gentle.”
“For you.”
“You have to admire his taste.”
“I kind of do.”
Their eyes met for a second, then she looked away. But not before he saw a flicker of what could only be called interest. Desire hit him square in the gut…and lower. He swore under his breath. He reminded himself that the safest thing was to keep his distance. But right then, he couldn’t quite see the logic of not having that which he wanted most.
Fortunately, she turned onto a dirt road. Her car rattled and moaned in protest.
“You can see why all-wheel drive would be helpful,” she said as she bounced in her seat. “I can’t get through to see them in winter. That’s a long time to go without a book or a movie.”
“Do they get to town?”
“Some.”
While he liked country life, he enjoyed being able to get out whenever he wanted. Being cut off for winter wasn’t his idea of a good time.
The dirt road narrowed and the trees seemed to move in.
“Did you tell them we were coming?” he asked, picturing a bunch of old guys with rifles and questionable vision.
“Yes. They’ll have phone service until the weather gets bad.”
The dirt road curved, then widened. As they drove around, the space opened up onto a cleared flat area with three small houses clustered together. The houses were nearly identical, with peaked roofs and plenty of windows. Big porches wrapped around each of them and a pair of rocking chairs sat to the right of the front doors. Five of those chairs were occupied by the oldest people Shane had ever seen.
Two wrinkled little men and three wrinkled little women stared at them. They looked like those apple-head dolls, all brown and bent, with raisin eyes and old-fashioned clothes.
As the car came to a stop, all five of them rose. The women ducked into the house and the men slowly, very, very slowly, stepped off the porches and headed toward them.
“Annabelle!” the wizened little men yelled as one.
She got out and hurried toward them where she was hugged and her cheeks pinched. Shane wasn’t sure, but thought maybe the old guy on the left patted her butt.
He was introduced and shook hands. He was careful not to squeeze too hard.
Albert, or maybe it was Alfred, followed Annabelle to the back of the car, where she had a dozen or so books in a small box.
“So, you’re a friend of Annabelle’s,” Alfred, or maybe Albert, said to Shane. “She’s a pretty lady.”
“Yes, she is.”
Beady dark eyes stared into his. “You best not take advantage of her, boy.” Thick, white eyebrows twitched menacingly. “She’s special and while my brother and I aren’t as young as we used to be, we can still shoot a squirrel a quarter of a mile away. You get my drift?”
Shane nodded, not sure if he should believe the old guy, but not willing to test the theory.
“Unless you intend to marry her,” his new friend said with a tooth-gapped guffaw. “Which I’d say makes you a lucky bastard. She’s a looker. And has good taste in reading. Don’t know if she can cook, though.”
Shane held up both hands. “Annabelle and I are friends.”
“Bullshit. There’s a man and a woman and there’s being dead. Not much in between. My Elizabeth and I have been married seventy-two years. You think we save ourselves for Saturday night?”
That clear definition of too much information was accompanied by an elbow nudge and a wink. Shane took a step back, tried to smile and wondered if anyone would notice if he simply turned and jogged down the road, back to town. It was maybe ten or fifteen miles. He should be motivated enough to do that with no problem.
“Albert, come look at what I brought. I found a new author I think you’re really going to like.”
Twenty minutes later, his stomach protesting the moonshine Alfred had insisted he sample, Shane leaned his head back against the passenger seat of her car and closed his eyes.
“How did you find them in the first place?” he asked.
“They called the library one day last summer and asked if someone could bring them some books. That there was too much traffic in the city for them to feel comfortable driving there.”
“Sure. Because Fool’s Gold has what? Eight traffic lights?”
She laughed. “It’s probably a lot to them. I think the brothers come down the mountain three or four times a year. It’s a different world, but they’re good people.”
Easy for her to say. She hadn’t been threatened by a horny man pushing a hundred.
“I don’t think I want to meet any of your other library patrons,” he told her.
She laughed. “Don’t worry. You’ll like Ava. She’s lovely. A computer programmer who has MS. She gets to the library when she can, but when her MS acts up, it’s easier for me to bring books to her.”
“A computer programmer who doesn’t read
ebooks?”
“Some people prefer the feel of paper in their hands. It’s a tactile thing.”
He could relate to being tactile, but not about a book.
* * *
ANNABELLE HELD OUT THE small gift bag she’d brought with her. “I know casseroles are traditional, but I’m not the greatest cook so bringing one was risky.”
Montana held open the front door to her house and laughed. “If you could see my freezer, you would so not be apologizing for anything that isn’t edible. Seriously, we have enough food to last until 2021. I had to send casseroles home with both my sisters and my mom.” She hugged Annabelle. “Thanks for coming.”
“Thank you for inviting me.”
Montana glanced in the bag, then looked up, her brown eyes bright with excitement. “Really?”
“Her new summer trilogy on audio. I thought you could listen while you did the baby thing.”
“You’re so thoughtful. Thank you. Please—come in.”
Annabelle stepped into the large house. Sunlight poured in front of the second-story window above the double door. Hardwood floors gleamed. The foyer led to a large living room, with a dining room big enough to seat twenty off to the left. Even so, the house had a homey feel. Despite the size of the rooms, Annabelle sensed there was plenty of love to fill every corner.
Montana led her past the formal living room, through a restaurant-size kitchen and into a bright family room. Little Skye lay in a bassinet, her tiny hands waving when she saw her mom.
Annabelle felt her chest tighten a little at the sight of the infant. She didn’t consider herself overly maternal, but she’d always thought she would have a family someday. Her divorce had put those dreams on hold. Now she had to figure out a way to resurrect them again.
