Out Rider

“What happened?” Sloan asked.

“Well, as a kid growing up, I didn’t understand he was an alcoholic. My mother didn’t get it until I was a year old. She found him hiding whiskey bottles all over their house, stashing them away. I think, looking back on it, my father needed the rigidity and boundaries that the military naturally provided in order to keep his drinking halfway under control, and to still be able to fully do the work he did.”

“Did your father come from parents who were alcoholics?” Sloan wondered.

“Yes. But my mother didn’t find out until she discovered his secret. I remember growing up with them yelling and screaming at one another. My father refused to stop drinking. My mother, because of her airline shifts, wasn’t at home to raise me. I had a lot of babysitters and maybe that was a good thing.” Dev allowed the torn, twisted strands of grass to drop from her fingers and fall to the nearby rocks.

“Why do you say that?”

“My father resented me being in their lives.” She gave Sloan a sad smile. “I didn’t know why my father didn’t like me...or love me... I just felt as a child he didn’t want me underfoot or around. He had a job with a metal manufacturer in Casper and had shift work. When he had a night shift, he had to babysit me during the day and he really hated that.”

Sloan frowned. “How do you know that?”

Dev picked more strands of grass because it soothed her. She twisted the long lengths between her fingers, staring down at them because she didn’t have the courage to see the look that was probably in Sloan’s eyes. Why was she telling him this? She’d never told anyone about it before. No one knew. Why him? Compressing her lips, Dev said, “I remember him telling me to stay in my room, not to dare going outside. At that time, I was seven years old, and I loved being outdoors. I used to sneak out through my bedroom window and run in the fields while he was drinking. When he drank, he’d fall sleep on the couch, and that’s when I’d get out of the house and escape outdoors.”

“You were seven?”

Dev heard the growl in Sloan’s voice and looked over at him. His eyes were banked with censure and anger. She knew it wasn’t aimed at her but at her irresponsible father. “Yes.” Hitching one shoulder upward she said, “Don’t worry, I grew up fast. My mother would be gone three or four days at a time, depending upon where she was flying. My father would sleep six or eight hours when drunk. We had a dog, Ghost, and I’d go out with her. She was a white husky with blue eyes. She was so beautiful. She was like my teddy bear growing up, and always protective and caring of me. We’d go out into the meadow and just go explore for hours. When I got hungry, I’d walk home and go to the kitchen and make myself a sandwich.”

“Did your father know you did this?” Sloan tried to remove the anger from his voice.

“No. I never told him. I had his drunk schedule down pat and knew when I could do it and get away with it. I never told my mother, either, because if I did, they’d start screaming and yelling at one another. I couldn’t stand their anger. Whenever they’d fight, I’d run to my room and Ghost would come and lie on my bed with me and give me a doggy hug.”

Shaking his head, Sloan said, “I’m really sorry you had to live through that. Did your father ever hurt your mother or you?”

Dev felt a powerful sense of protection wash over her and understood now that it was coming from him. Maybe she could equate it to the doggy hugs that Ghost always gave her when she was feeling isolated and alone. “He never laid a hand on me or Mom, thank God. When I was old enough to realize he was an alcoholic, I ruthlessly researched the disease and what it meant. I wanted to understand why he was the way he was. Why—” and Dev choked up a little, avoiding Sloan’s intense stare “—he couldn’t love me. He never hugged me or kissed me or told me he loved me. He just didn’t have it in him. Frankly, after I grew up and matured a little, I saw why he couldn’t. My father couldn’t even love himself. So how could he reach out to love me?”

“But your parents are still together?”

“Yeah. Figure it out. I can’t. I don’t know why my mom never left my father.”

“Do you go home at all?” Sloan asked.

“No. I talk to my mom on Skype and we send emails back and forth, but I won’t go home. I know my father doesn’t like me around. And I don’t want to be around someone like that.” Dev gave him a wry look. “Life’s hard enough without going out and walking into the lion’s den to get bitten again.”

Shaking his head, Sloan said quietly, “I’m sorry, Dev. You deserve a helluva lot better than that.”

“I don’t know many people who have completely happy families, Sloan. Mine is completely dysfunctional. But so are a lot of other families. There are no happy endings from what I can see, for most people. We’re all wounded. It’s just a question of whether the wounds run our lives or not.” She dropped the shredded grass by her side, pushing her hands down her Levi’s. “I refuse to let the wounds my parents gave me run my life. I’m working through them, one at a time. I’m slowly winning my freedom...”

Sloan stretched out on the grass, an elbow propping him up as he studied her. “I’m pretty lucky,” he told her. “My parents gave me a happy childhood in comparison to yours. I was an only child, by the way.”

“Tell me about it?” Because Dev found herself starved to know more about Sloan, how he had become the man he was today. She saw amusement linger in his blue eyes as he pondered her question. “I could use some good news,” she added with a slight grin.

“We didn’t have much money,” he told her. “My pa, Custus, is a farrier, plus a leather, saddle and harness maker. Between these skills, he had a nice business and was able to support our family. My ma, Wilma, stayed at home, gardened, canned, cooked and kept us in clean clothes and a clean house. She loves cooking, baking especially. She was also a seamstress, and often other Hill people would come to her to make special clothing, like a wedding dress for a daughter that was getting married, things like that. She also makes school-age clothes for the Hill children whose mothers didn’t have the talent my ma has.”

“I love to sew, too,” Dev said wistfully. “Your mother sounds like she’s incredibly skilled at it. I don’t know anyone else who could make a wedding dress.” She saw Sloan’s dark features begin to relax as he shared the story of his parents. She was glad that someone had parents who loved them. She was beginning to understand why he was so calm and at ease and confident with himself.

“She also does tatting, crocheting, knitting and needlework,” he offered. “There’re some beautiful doilies made by my grandmother that my mother uses to this day.”

“Those things should be cherished forever and handed down from one generation to another,” Dev agreed. “She sounds wonderful.”

“She is,” he said with a slight smile. “Now, she has her bad days, and I grew up hearing my parents argue, but they discussed things. They didn’t get angry and yell at one another. And I think that makes a huge difference for a child.”

She raised her brows. “Oh, I think it does. I grew up thinking everyone, when they got angry, screamed and yelled at one another. It was only when I’d do sleepovers with my friends at their houses that I realized my parents were not the norm.”

“My pa is a pretty stubborn man,” Sloan said, amusement in his tone. “My ma calls him mule headed upon occasion. She said I take after him.”

Dev grinned. “So far, I haven’t seen you be mule headed.”

“I like to think I learned from my pa’s stubbornness at times, and modified it a bit.”

“Where did you get your calmness, Sloan? From your mother or father?” Dev wanted to delve deeply into this man who made her feel incredibly at ease in his presence.

“From both of them. My ma never gets rattled and neither does my pa. I guess I have a family calmness gene?” He laughed a little.

Dev chuckled. “Well, whether you know it or not, when you’re around me, I always feel that deep sense of calm around you.” More shyly, she added, “And it helps me ramp down, take a deep breath and just be.”

“You seem mighty calm from the outside,” Sloan noted, searching her eyes.

“It’s a game face,” Dev admitted. Opening her hands, she said, “I can’t remember a time when I didn’t feel anxious.”

“Well,” he drawled, “you grew up in a household where there were threats and you were in survival mode. It would make any innocent and vulnerable child feel unsafe, don’t you think?”

“I guess I never quantified my childhood like that,” Dev admitted.

“Do most people make you feel edgy?” he asked.

“Yes, if I’m truthful.” Dev sighed and gave him a confused look. “But with you, Sloan, I let my guard down. I relax. I don’t feel anxiety when I’m around you. It’s really odd. That’s never happened to me before.” She saw him give her an assessing look, a momentary burning expression in his eyes that quickly disappeared and was replaced with a hint of kindness.

“That’s a nice compliment. You know, farriers are good at soothing a fractious horse or mule they have to shoe. They generally work real quiet and slow around an animal to get it to relax and get it to trust them.”

Dev straightened, his words filling her heart with a new realization. Trust. That was it! For whatever inexplicable reason, Dev trusted Sloan. And on the heels of that, she suddenly realized for the first time that she had never trusted her father, and that had directly led to her always feeling anxious around him growing up. Even now, when she thought of him her anxiety would amp up. And just as quickly, when she was around Sloan her anxiety dissolved. Instantly. Always. It was trust. Moistening her lips, she said softly, “You’re right. Farriers can calm the most scared horse or mule.” And he could calm not only her general anxiety, but mysteriously dissolve the fear of men she’d developed since Gordon’s attack.

Sloan slowly sat up. He gazed up at the waterfall, appreciation in his expression. “I could stay here all day,” he confided to her. “There’s just something about running water, the sound of it, that fills my thirsty soul and sates it.” He slanted a glance in Dev’s direction. “What about you? Does water have that kind of effect on you?”

“Oh, yes. I remember as a kid we had a creek that ran through that large meadow out behind our home. When I was feeling really upset, me and Ghost would go to the creek. There’s a part of it where there’s a little two-foot waterfall and I always used to sit down there. I’d cry, get out whatever I was feeling, and then let the water heal me. I always felt better being around water, Sloan.” And she almost blurted, You’re like water to me. Healing. Wonderful. Soothing my soul. But she didn’t.

“I wish I’d known you growing up,” Sloan said, rising and brushing off his lower legs. “I’d have let you cry on my shoulder and just held you.”

His piercing gaze cut straight through to her opening heart and Dev felt Sloan’s protectiveness and something else that she couldn’t define. It made her go all warm and fuzzy inside. When he offered her his hand, she slipped her fingers into his. She felt the thick calluses on his fingers and palm, the strength that he called on as he pulled her to her feet. There was a storminess in his eyes and she sensed he was upset for her about her childhood. Sloan didn’t try to mask how he felt and that was refreshing to Dev. Reluctantly, she pulled her fingers from his large worn hand. Her heart wanted her to move closer to him, slide her arms around his neck and broad shoulders. The ache within her lower body caught her by surprise. He was so tall, so solid and reassuring to her emotionally that Dev found herself falling into his blue gaze, reading that he wanted to kiss her.

That snapped Dev out of her reverie. A kiss?

They barely knew one another, her head warned her. Dev took a step back, suddenly unsure of herself, not of Sloan. She had no idea what was taking place between them because no man had ever affected her as deeply and wonderfully as Sloan did. And yet, Dev knew he wasn’t stalking her. He was casual. Not chasing her. This cowboy was the opposite of Gordon. Night-and-day difference.

CHAPTER FIVE

BART SMILED A LITTLE. He had the weekend off as a truck driver for Ace. He’d been working for two weeks, showing his boss he had the right stuff. Rivas, the owner, seemed happy with him, and that was all that counted. Even better, Rivas had given him a cot in a back room near the repair bay, a place to stay, until he could find somewhere to live. There was more to it than that, of course, Bart thought as he drove in his silver Dodge Ram. The day was sunny even though the sun was sinking in the West across the Tetons. The mid-June weather had been welcoming and warming. No more snow flurries, thank God.

He was driving down Moose Road toward a set of condo buildings on the left. On the right were apartment complexes sticking out on the flat land. So far, he’d found out that Dev Blake was at the Teton Park HQ. They wouldn’t give out her phone number or address and so he’d hung up on the person answering the phone. He had learned that, yes, Dev was working at the visitor’s center.

Today, he was going to check out the condos and the apartment complexes. The only way to find out where she was living was to go into the condo office and ask for her. So far, he’d turned up nothing. His mind roved over other possibilities, such as Dev living with another woman ranger and splitting the rent somewhere in town. If it was a house, she was going to be harder to trace. Bart was hoping she had opted for one of these places on Moose Road because he’d exhausted all other rental properties, working from southern to northern Jackson Hole. He’d gone east and now he was finishing up by going west. The bitch had to be living somewhere.

And finding out she was working at the visitor’s center was a piece of good luck. If nothing else, on his day off, he could hang out in the large parking lot and observe. Bart knew Dev McGuire owned a blue-and-white Ford pickup truck. It was another piece of vital info he needed in order to find out where she was living. Making a right turn, he decided to go into the apartment complex and parked near the office. Bart climbed out of the cab. He had made sure he looked like a tourist in a red polo shirt, a fisherman’s hat and ivory chinos.

“Hey,” he called, coming in the door and smiling at the young blond-haired woman behind the desk, “how are you?”

“I’m fine,” she said. “May I help you?”

Folding his hands on the pine counter Bart said, “I’m looking for a friend of mine. Dev McGuire. By any chance is she living here? I’d like to connect with her.” Bart saw the girl’s young face redden a little as she put the name into the computer behind the counter. Bart knew she would not give Dev’s apartment number or phone number. That was just the way it was.

“Why...yes, she moved in here two weeks ago.”

“Great,” he murmured, rewarding her with a flirty look. “I’ll get in touch with her, then. Thanks. Have a good day.”

Once in his pickup, Bart grinned and decided to drive around the three major parking lots to the three apartment towers. He tapped the wheel with his index finger, feeling a surge of triumph. The bitch thought she was done with him? He chuckled, feeling a sense of overwhelming victory.

There was no blue-and-white Ford pickup parked in any of the lots. He glanced at his watch. It was 5:30 p.m. He wasn’t sure what shift Dev had. And those shifts changed every three months, anyway. As he got out, his gut told him to park at the first tower. At his back was the second tower and parking lot. Seeing a number of people coming home for the evening, he figured the mailboxes just inside the door would have names on them—possibly. That wasn’t always the case, but he’d find out.

He went up to the main entry door but found it locked. An older woman in her fifties approached. He pretended to be looking in his pockets as she drew abreast of him.

“You know what?” he said, smiling at her. “I can’t find my card. By any chance, can you let me in? I just moved in three days ago.” Bart knew his megawatt smile always affected women. That was how he lured them in. The woman flushed and nodded.

“Oh, moving is so rough. Of course I can.” She went forward and slid her card into the slot. The door clicked.

Bart moved toward it, opened it and gestured grandly for her to go in ahead of him.

“Thank you,” she said. There was a bank of elevators to the left and she headed toward them.

Spotting the row of aluminum mailboxes, Bart quickly peeled off to the right, eyes narrowed, hoping to find Dev’s name. Each one had a number. Some had names on them, too. Others did not. About half were just numbers. He was frustrated. If Dev was in this tower, she had a number only. Damn. So close...

* * *

SLOAN PARKED AT the complex and got Mouse out of the cab of his truck and onto a leash. He immediately noticed a tall red-haired man leaving Tower One, hands in his pockets. The stranger gazed around, as if trying to find someone. Sloan closed the door and stood, watching him. Mouse suddenly became alert. His dog was basically psychic, moving into that state of superawareness. Sloan knew most of the residents. He’d lived here two years and he made it his business to know faces and cars. The man briefly glanced in his direction and then swiftly looked away when he realized Sloan was studying him.

Something didn’t feel right about this fellow. Sloan watched the man walk to a big silver Dodge Ram, climb in and then leave, heading south on Moose Road, toward town. Rubbing the back of his neck, he saw Mouse watching him, too. The dog was getting a hit, just like he had. And that was why Mouse was so good at what he did. The leather leash was wrapped around Sloan’s hand. “Come on, let’s go in, Mouse.”

The dog wagged his tail, following him.

Sloan’s mind drifted to Dev. Since that trail ride two weeks ago, it seemed that life was doing everything it could to keep them apart. He rarely saw her, except when she came into the barn to take Goldy for a ride on one of the nearby trails. He was always either leaving or coming back from shoeing assignments for the Forest Service. No one had any idea how many mules and horses the USFS had in this area. The rangers always rode horses and the mules did the heavy lifting. The mules carried shovels, pickaxes, quick-drying cement, and loads of posts and nails where needed.

Sloan wanted to see Dev. Where was she? He knew she was still on the day shift. Maybe she’d gone into town to do some grocery shopping? Dammit, he missed her. Missed hearing her husky voice, seeing the sparkle of gold in her dark green eyes, the way she tilted her head, the way her sleek black hair curled across her shoulders, emphasizing the natural beauty of her face. Those lips of hers teased his senses.

With a groan, Sloan took the stairs to the second floor, Mouse at his side. Maybe he should leave a note on her door? Invite her over for a glass of wine after dinner? He preferred beer, but Sloan had found out in their conversations she was a white-wine lover. And last week he’d bought a bottle that she liked and stored it in his fridge...just in case.

Opening his door, Sloan pushed it wide and took a look around. Old habits died hard in him. He’d breached a lot of doors of Taliban homes in Afghanistan. He could feel Mouse tensing, as if ready to be sent in to find and attack the enemy. Patting his dog’s head, he unsnapped the leash and Mouse bounded inside, heading for the kitchen where there was a big bowl of water. By the time Sloan got in, locked the door, and found a pad and pen, Mouse was noisily lapping up water. Sloan smiled to himself and wondered how single people managed without a dog or cat to lighten their lives, make things better. He’d been raised around farm animals, dogs and cats all his life. Sloan would be lonely without an animal to keep him company.

He scribbled the note, found a piece of tape and opened his door to walk across the hall to stick it on Dev’s.

“Hey,” Dev called, waving to him as she walked down the hall. Bella, at her side on a leash, wagged her tail upon seeing Sloan.

Halting, Sloan grinned. She was in her ranger uniform and looked a little tired. “Hey, yourself.” He lifted the paper. “I haven’t seen you hardly at all in the past two weeks so I was going to put this on your door and invite you over for some white wine, if you wanted.” He liked the smile coming to Dev’s face as her cheeks flushed. Her hair was in disarray and it looked like she’d been outdoors.

Dev held out her hand. “I’ll take that invite. I need it tonight.” She opened the door and said, “Let me change. You pour the wine and I’ll be over in two heartbeats.”

Nodding, Sloan felt his heart expand. “You got it.”

“Is it okay if I bring Bella over?”

Mouse always enjoyed Bella’s company. Why not? “Sure.” Dev’s green eyes lit up and Sloan’s lower body instantly tightened. Her smile always made his heart beat a little faster, his yearning increase.

Entering his apartment, Sloan felt lighter. The injured part of him fought with the delicious, dizzying happiness that tunneled through him. He put all his bad experiences aside. Dev interested him and he craved her company. Looking at Mouse, who was wagging his tail as if reading his mind, Sloan chuckled and walked to the kitchen to get the wine and pour her a glass. “You’re going to get some company, too, partner.”

Mouse whined, his dark brown eyes shining with anticipation.

That was about the way Sloan felt as he poured the wine and then got himself a cold beer out of his fridge. He decided Dev might be hungry, so he sliced up some Gouda cheese on a plate and added some crackers to it. Might as well go all the way. As he placed the plate on the kitchen table, there was a light knock at his door. Sloan tried to ignore his heart bouncing in reaction.

Opening the door, he saw Dev had changed into a pair of baggy gray workout pants and she wore a loose pale green tee. Bella was at her side on a leash, wagging her tail and panting, her eyes sparkling, too.

“Come on in,” he invited, standing aside. This was only the second time Dev had been in his apartment. As she walked by, Sloan automatically inhaled her scent, evergreen combined with her own sweet fragrance that made him groan internally. Good thing he was wearing Levi’s, but that didn’t make the ache of his erection feel any better as it pressed against the zipper, encountering fabric resistance.

Bella remained at Dev’s side until she unsnapped the leash and gave the Lab a hand signal to go join Mouse, who was ever the gentleman, sitting near his big doggy bed in the corner of the large living room. They sniffed and smelled one another in greeting, tails moving excitedly back and forth.

Sloan gestured to the kitchen table. “I don’t imagine you’ve had dinner yet?”

Wrinkling her nose, Dev took the chair he pulled out for her. “No...and honestly? I don’t feel up to a full meal just yet. The cheese and crackers look good, though.” She glanced up, smiling at him.

Sloan saw that Bella was lying down near Mouse, both of them panting and gazing adoringly at one another. Mouse was better behaved than Sloan was feeling right now. Dev’s dark hair was smoothed and brushed. Her cheeks were flushed and as always, his gaze dropped to her mouth for a split second. Sloan sat down at her elbow, sliding the cold beaded glass of white wine toward her. “What happened? You looked a little stressed earlier.”

She nibbled on the cheese and then took a sip of the wine. “Right before 5:00 p.m., an older lady fainted at our desk. Out of the blue. Scared the hell out of me.”

“What was wrong with her?”

“I think a stroke, but I’m not sure. I ran around the counter after she collapsed and with the help of Becky, who was also working a shift, we got her lying down with her head tipped back so she could breathe.”

“I’ll bet the other visitors were upset,” Sloan guessed, taking a drink of beer, the bubbles feeling good in his mouth.