Honorable Rancher

One of P.J.’s dinosaurs sat wedged between the couch cushions. She plucked it free and dropped it on the coffee table. Then, cradling her tea mug, she took a seat.

“Your hands still need warming?” he asked.

Again she stared. If she said yes, would he take her hand between his again, the way he had when she’d climbed from his truck? Her palms tingled at the thought. But of course he hadn’t meant that as an offer. How desperate must she be, wanting his attention so badly she found it where none existed? At least, that kind of attention?

She shook her head to clear it as much as to answer his question.

From under her lashes she watched him set the mug down on his thigh, holding it in a secure grip, as if he didn’t want to risk spilling coffee on her old couch. Or on his tuxedo pants.

He had large hands with long, strong fingers, firm to the touch from all the hours—all the years—he’d spent working with them. No town boy, Ben Sawyer. He’d always lived on his family’s large ranch on the outskirts of Flagman’s Folly.

Working with real estate, she knew to the acre how much land Ben Sawyer owned. Not as much as Caleb Cantrell now did, but a good deal more than most of the ranchers around here. She knew to the penny the worth of Ben’s land, too.

Not as much as his worth as a man. Or as a friend.

She took a sip of her tea, understanding she was stalling again. She could list Ben’s good points forever, but now she used them to keep her mind occupied so her mouth couldn’t get her into trouble.

“How’s the ranch?” she asked finally. A safe subject.

“Still there, which says something in this economy. You haven’t come out since we raised the new barn.”

So much for safe. “Work has kept me busy.”

“I’m sure. Well, I’ll need to have another potluck one of these days, before the weather turns.”

Again she wondered if his words held a hidden meaning. No. Not Ben. But she couldn’t be quite as open with him. Since Paul’s death, she’d made it a point of visiting Ben’s ranch with the kids only when he had a potluck. When there would be plenty of folks there. And even then she felt uneasy. Unable to trust her judgment around him.

Just as she felt now.

“We’ve got a couple of new ponies the right size for Lissa and P.J.”

Her laugh sounded strangled. “Please don’t tell them, or I’ll never get Lissa to stay home and focus on her homework.”

“Is she struggling with it?”

“Some. Mostly math. I try to help her, but a lot of it’s over my head. It’s gotten tougher since we were in school.”

“A lot of things have.” He sounded bitter. He smiled as if to offset the tone. “I can stop by and give her a hand.”

Oh, no. She had to nip that bad idea before it could blossom into another problem. “Thanks, but she started going for tutoring. With Nate. I think they’re catching on.”

“Good.” But he sounded disappointed.

Refusing to look at his face, she stared down at her tea. She couldn’t risk having him come around here, getting close to the kids again. Sending her emotions into overdrive every time she saw him.

“Well.” He gestured to the coffee mug. “What happened to my cookies?”

She looked up at him in stunned surprise. That was no casual question, was it? That was a direct quote of his own words, something he’d once said to her time and time again, beginning with the first week of her eighth-grade cooking class.

He sipped from the mug.

His averted gaze gave him away, proving he’d asked that last question deliberately. He’d meant to remind her.

Hadn’t he?

Yet, truthfully, everything he said and did, everything he was, only made her recall their long history.

Everything she thought and felt only made things worse.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’m all out of cookies.”

“That’s no way to say thanks for a ride home, is it?”

“If I’m remembering correctly—” she paused, cleared her throat “—I offered coffee, not dessert.”

“A man can dream, can’t he?” Now, over the rim of his mug, his eyes met hers.

Her heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t be flirting with her. Not Ben. He couldn’t want more.

Even though she did.

“Sure,” she said finally. “Dream on.” She looked down at her mug and blew lightly on the inch of lukewarm tea that remained, pretending to cool it. Needing to cool herself down. Needing to get him out of here—before she gave in to her own imaginings and made a fool of herself. Her cheeks burning, she added, “Speaking of dreams, I...I guess it’s time for me to turn in. And for you to go. Before it gets too late.”

“It already is.”

She stared at him.

He shrugged. “It’s nearly one o’clock, and I’m usually up by four. It doesn’t seem worth it even to go to sleep, does it?”

“Not for you, maybe. But I intend to get a few hours in before I pick up the kids.”

He nodded. “I’d better go, then.”

Relief flowed through her. Two minutes more, and she’d be safe. She set her mug on the coffee table and rose from the couch. She had turned away, eager to lead him to the door, when he rested his hand on her arm. She froze.

“Before I go,” he murmured, “you might need some help.”

“I don’t think so. I can manage a couple of mugs.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He tapped her shoulder lightly. “Did you plan on sleeping in this dress?”

“No,” she said, hating the fact that her voice sounded so breathless. That she felt so breathless. She must have imagined his fingertip just grazing her skin. “I thought Lissa would be here.”

“She’s not.”

“I know.”

She swallowed hard. Why had she ever wanted to make a dress she couldn’t get out of herself? Why did she not regret the decision now? She could have saved herself some heartache.

She turned to him, and their eyes met. Unable to read his—unwilling to let him see what she knew he’d find in hers—she spun away again. “Well, you can unbutton the top two buttons. That ought to get me started.”

Behind her, he laughed softly. He touched the low-cut edge of the back of her gown. Her breath caught. As he undid the top button, his knuckles brushed the newly exposed skin. She clutched her lace overskirt with both hands and hoped he had touched her deliberately.

He undid the second button, his fingers following the same path along her spine. Warmth prickled her skin.

When he reached for the next button and the next, she closed her eyes, wishing he’d meant to set off the heat building inside her.

After he’d undone the back of her gown, she turned, already planning the quick farewell that would send him on his way. With one look at him, her words disappeared before they reached her lips. Now she could read his eyes clearly. Could read naked longing in his face.

A longing she recognized too well.

In those endless months when she’d known in her heart her marriage to Paul was over, she had begun to yearn again for all the things she had always wanted in her life. All the things she had hoped Paul would be but never had been.

A solid, steady, dependable partner.

A husband she could truly love.

A daddy who would willingly raise her children.

A man...

A man just like Ben.

“Think I’ve gone far enough?” His voice rumbled through her. No sign of laughter now. His chest rose and fell with his deep breath. He looked into her eyes, then let his gaze drift down to her mouth.

She had spent the entire evening wanting him to kiss her—and she couldn’t wait for him to kiss her now.

Slowly he reached up and rested his warm hand flat against the back of her neck. She tilted her chin up, let him cradle her head in his palm, allowed her eyelids to drift closed.

His breath fanned her cheek.

The brush of his lips against hers came with the lightest of pressure. Not tentative, but restrained, as if he touched her in awe and disbelief. That sense of reverence made her eyes sting. Made her heart swell.

He cupped her face, his fingers curving beneath her jaw, fingertips settling against her neck. He couldn’t miss her rapid pulse.

His head close to hers, he murmured, “You know, I’ve had a crush on you since kindergarten.”

“No.”

“Yes. Although I admit,” he added, his voice hoarse, “I didn’t think about this until a few years later.” He slid his hand from her neck and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.

When she opened her eyes, she found his face mere inches away. “You’re only looking for cookies,” she teased.

“Oh, no. Not when I’ve just had something much better.” His mouth met hers again. “You taste like wedding cake.”

She smiled. “You taste like champagne.”

“Only the best for you, darlin’. Always.”

Always. The way he’d been there for her.

Yet through all the years she had known him, she’d never imagined they would ever kiss. During the recent months when she’d begun to dream about him, she’d never dared to let those dreams bring her this far.

She had to clear her throat before she could speak again. Still, her voice cracked. “Are you trying to sweet-talk me, cowboy?”

“Sweet? No, ma’am.” He shook his head. “I’m thinking more like hot.” He slid his hand into the unbuttoned back of her gown, pressing his fingers wide and firm against her. The soft material slipped from her shoulders.

Not breaking eye contact with her, he trailed both hands down her arms. Like the water bubbling in the country club’s fountain, the gown fell in a froth of pink satin and lace.

When he took her hand and sank onto the couch, she went with him, wanting to get even closer, to brace herself against his solidness, to absorb his warmth. Wanting to hold on to a reality she wasn’t yet sure she believed.

A few minutes later, though, she believed in him with all her heart. Despite his words, he was gentle and kind and sweet. And yes...later...he was hot, too.

He gave her everything she’d ever dreamed of. And more.

An even longer while later, she reached up to slide her hands behind his neck and link her fingers against him. As she held on, unmoving, he explored once again, running his hands down her sides, cupping her hips and holding her closer.

When she sucked in a deep breath, one side of his mouth curled in a smile. “This isn’t what I expected when I drove you home tonight.”

“That makes two of us.” Like a schoolgirl, she struggled to hold back a giggle of pure joy at being two halves of a couple with him.

“And,” he said, “this isn’t what I expected when I promised to take care of you. But you don’t hear me complaining.”

Her throat tightened, and the giggle died. “No,” she said, “I don’t.” Goose bumps rippled along her skin.

To accompany the chill running down her spine.

“In fact—”

“Wait,” she interrupted, meeting his eyes. “You said ‘take care’?”

He nodded. “Of you and the kids.”

She tried to keep her tone even, her voice soft. “And you made that promise to...?”

He shifted, as if the question she’d left hanging caused him considerable discomfort. A small gap opened between them, and her body cooled.

“To Paul,” he said.

“I see.” She sat up, needing more distance between them. When he let her go, she grabbed her gown from the floor and slid into it, heedless now of the fine lace, of the delicate satin. “That’s the reason behind everything?” she asked. “Because you made a promise to Paul?”

He leaned against the arm of the couch. “What ‘everything’? You mean us, here?”

“We’ve never been ‘us, here’ before tonight.” She wouldn’t—couldn’t—think about that now. It took twice as much effort to keep her voice level as it had to stifle that foolish giggle. “No, I mean everything you’ve done. Trying to help me. Stopping by my office unannounced. Buying the office building. All that—because of what you promised Paul?”

Frowning, he nodded. “Yeah. But I’d have done those things anyway. Why wouldn’t I? I told you, you’ve been the girl for me since kindergarten.”

“How long ago did you have to make that promise?”

“The day he shipped out at the end of his leave. But there was no ‘have to’ about it. I willingly gave him my word.”

“I’m not willing to let you take care of me.”

“It’s too late for that.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“I’ve watched over you for years. Ever since we were kids in school.”

“Then it has to stop. We’re not kids anymore. And as I’ve told you before, many times, I can take care of myself—and my children. I don’t think you’ll ever understand that.” She tugged the bodice of her gown into place. “And I think it’s time for you to go.”

For a few long moments he didn’t move. Then, slowly, he curled his fingers into fists and stared at her, his eyes narrowed.

She had no fear. This was Ben. He was good and kind and meant well. And because he was so good and kind, because he felt so determined to take care of her, she’d hurt him.

After he’d just made love to her as if—

She couldn’t finish that thought. She couldn’t sit here and watch him walk out.

Instead, she rose from the couch, then crossed the room. “Good night,” she said over her shoulder. Her voice shook.

“Running away won’t help anything,” he said.

“I’m not running,” she answered, climbing the stairs without looking back. Without stopping. “I’m just standing on my own.”

On legs no steadier than her voice had been and that threatened to give way at any moment.

From the upstairs hallway she listened to his movements below.

When he left, she went down again to lock the door.

Then she sank onto the rocking chair. Her heart thudded painfully. She had wanted to stop him. Wanted to call him back. But she couldn’t. She had to make him leave, had to force him to understand she didn’t need him.

She had to force herself to accept a painful truth, too. For all this time, Ben had considered her his responsibility.

She couldn’t allow that to continue.

No matter what she had heard for years from another man, no matter what that man had tried to make her believe, she wasn’t anyone’s burden. Never had been—and as long as she lived, never would be.

Especially not Ben’s.

Chapter Four

Dana dropped Stacey off at the day care center, then drove toward the elementary school. She needed the Monday-morning routine after spending most of Sunday agonizing over Ben. Again and again, she’d replayed what had happened between them.

Cheeks flaming, she glanced in the rearview mirror at Lissa and P.J. She needed to think about her children, not Ben.

Taking a deep breath, she looked at the kids again. Thought of her routine.

Of course, when she needed a distraction more than ever before, her office would be quieter than usual with Tess, her sole employee, away on her honeymoon. That meant she’d have plenty of time alone. Plenty of time to obsess over Saturday night—and then to forget it had happened.

But how could she ever forget anything about Ben when everywhere she looked, she saw reminders of him? Even the squat, redbrick school building and the bus pulled over in the parking lot brought back memories.

Years ago, Ben and the younger kids from the outlying ranches only came into town when they rode the bus to school in the morning. As soon as the final bell rang, they immediately rode the bus home. With their parents busy working, the kids didn’t get to hang out in Flagman’s Folly until they could drive themselves back and forth.

Ranch families had the same problem today. She and Kayla Robertson already had a plan in the works, one Ben would eventually hear about thanks to his seat on the town council. She dreaded having to face him the night they would present their proposal.

“Mom, stop,” Lissa shouted from the backseat. “There’s Nate.” In the rearview mirror, Dana saw her point off to one side of the schoolyard, where her best friend had just jumped down from Tess and Caleb’s SUV.

Dana blinked in surprise at seeing Tess in the driver’s seat. The newlyweds had spent a couple of days in Santa Fe but were scheduled to leave that afternoon for a cruise. She unbuckled her seat belt and climbed out of the van with the kids.

The two girls walked away, chattering and hiking their backpacks up on their shoulders. Carrying his lunch box and scuffling his feet, P.J. trailed behind them, unwilling as always to have anyone see him arrive with the girls.

Dana shook her head, then turned to Tess. “What are you doing here? Isn’t your ship sailing?”

“Yes, but we have plenty of time before our flight for the coast. We decided to come back and surprise Nate and Mom at breakfast before Nate left for school.”

Relieved, Dana nodded, unable to hold back a smile. “On Saturday, you said Nate was the one dealing with separation anxiety. But you’re the one missing her already, aren’t you?”

Tess shrugged. “It’s silly, but you’re right. I’ve never been away from her before.”

“It’s not a bit silly. I’d feel the same way.” Happy to have something to keep her mind—and Tess’s—off Ben, she said, “She’ll be all right. Your mom and Ellamae will keep a close eye on her. She’s got plenty to keep her busy. And Lissa can’t stop talking about the sleepover in a couple of weeks.”

“I know. Nate reminded me about it three times on the way over here this morning. Well, I’d better get going. I left Caleb back at the Whistlestop, making a few last business calls before we head out. Dana...”

At Tess’s hesitant tone, she frowned. “What?”

“He’s not happy leaving before the closing on the ranch.”

Dana stiffened, sure she knew where Tess was going with the conversation. A former bull-riding champion turned ranch owner, Caleb Cantrell had invested his money wisely and had plenty to spare. He also now had a wife and daughter to spend it on.

Dana felt Tess’s happiness as if it were her own.

Which meant she could also understand her friend’s worry for her. She worried, too. For the sake of her children, she had to find a way to lighten her own load. A permanent solution. The commission from the sale to Caleb would definitely feed her hungry checkbook. But that money was just one more thing in her life...like love and marriage...that wouldn’t last forever.

Hoping she sounded unconcerned, she laughed and shook her head. “You two need to stop worrying over everyone else and go enjoy your trip. Tell Caleb I’ll survive till you get back.”

“It wasn’t only your survival he was thinking about. He’s eager to get his hands on that ranch.”

“He should be focused on getting his hands on his new wife.”

Tess laughed. “We’re taking care of that. Oh, before I forget, he wanted me to tell you something. A friend from his rodeo days is going to get in touch to look at property. His name’s Jared Hall.”

“Great.”

Tess nodded. “But really, Dana, Caleb said he’d cut an advance check on the commission—”

“Enough. Quit trying to mother me.” She smiled to soften the words. “I’m not Nate. But like her, I’ll be all right until you’re home again. Now, just stop. And,” she said, faking a threatening tone, “if you don’t, you’re fired.”

“Okay, okay. I definitely want my job. By the way, did you have a pleasant ride home with Ben the other night?”

She couldn’t help flinching at the change of subject. Or more truthfully, at the mention of his name. She forced herself to meet Tess’s eyes and raise her brows in mock-surprise. “‘Pleasant’? You’ve never used that word in your life. Of course we had a ‘pleasant’ ride. What else would you expect?”

“Since you’ve asked...the two of you have seemed awfully uncomfortable with each other lately.”

“We’re fine.”

“Maybe you are, at that,” Tess said, her face suddenly as blank as P.J.’s when he was caught up to mischief. “I admit, you looked pretty relaxed in his arms on the dance floor the other night.” As Dana opened her mouth, Tess raised her hands palms out and grinned. “I’m not asking anything about it. I’m just saying...whatever’s going on with you two—”

“There is nothing going on. And I can handle our landlord. Very pleasantly, too.”

Tess laughed and gave her a quick hug. They said their goodbyes, and Tess waved as she drove out of the parking lot.

Dana climbed into the van and slumped back against the driver’s seat. No one else watched her. She was trying—and failing—to hide from herself.

How could she have lied like that, and to her own best friend? She couldn’t handle their landlord. She couldn’t deal with her emotions about him at all. Worse, she couldn’t believe where those emotions had led her. And the risk they had caused her to take.

Everyone in town made it plain they would always consider her Paul’s wife. They would always worship Paul. Only two days ago she had worried about their reaction to seeing her dance with Ben at the reception.

What would folks say now, if they knew the widow of their beloved army hero had slept with his best friend?

* * *

BEN LOOPED Firebrand’s reins around one of the posts of Sam Robertson’s corral. The stallion’s dark chestnut coat gleamed in the setting sun, giving credence to his name. Ben patted the horse’s flank. As if in resignation, Firebrand snorted and nodded his head. Then he stood and stared over the corral rail.

Squinting against the sun, Ben waved to Becky, out near the barn with her puppy. Sam’s little girl waved back. Pirate yipped a couple of times, then settled down at her feet again.

Seeing Becky and her dog led him to think of P.J.

That took his mind straight to P.J.’s mama. No surprise at the leap—or at what followed. Guilty thoughts flew in his brain like the flies buzzing around Firebrand’s twitching tail.

Sam came out of the house carrying two long-necked bottles. “Here. Have a seat.”

Ben nodded his thanks and took his time swallowing some of the ice-cold beer. It felt good going down.

It felt good to sit on the picnic bench in Sam’s yard and watch the sun sink. He’d spent the past few days working hard, and he needed a break from the ranch. He needed a break from himself.

No matter how much he’d tried to keep busy with work, he couldn’t stop himself from going over what had happened at Dana’s house just a few days ago.

What the hell kind of friend would make a move on his best friend’s wife?

“She’s got a few new tricks, too,” Sam said.

Ben started. “What?”

Sam chuckled. “Man, your mind must be a thousand miles away from here.”

No, just taken a ride into town.

“I was telling you about Becky and Pirate,” Sam said. “She’s taught that pup some more tricks.”

“Good.” He nodded. “Good for kids to have a dog.”

“Yeah. I just said that.” Sam looked him in the eye. “Obvious enough you didn’t catch a word of it. What’s the trouble?”

He shrugged. “No trouble. I’m unwinding.” He gestured to the catalog Sam had dropped onto the picnic table. “Is that the breeder’s article you wanted to show me?”

Sam nodded, and the talk turned technical, lasting the length of their first beers and requiring a backup.

When Sam suggested a third, Ben shook his head. “That’s enough for me. I’ve got to get back to the house and check on that new mare.”

“Have you talked to Dana this week?”

“No.” He picked at the label on his beer bottle. “Was there a reason for me to?”

“No idea. Kayla mentioned you at suppertime. She’s going into town to see Dana tomorrow, and I guess the office put the thought of you into her head. You don’t need to do much there, though, do you? Besides collect the rent.”

“There are things that need some attention. But all in all, it pretty much takes care of itself.”

“Sounds like you made a good investment, then. I wish the ranches could run themselves, too.”

“No, you don’t. We’ve got to do something to earn a living.”

They laughed at that, but later, as he headed homeward on Firebrand, he thought of the comment again. And of Dana and the tough time she was having.