Call Of The West

Then he stiffened. As suddenly as he’d started kissing her, Jake yanked his mouth away. Hope opened her eyes and found him staring at her, looking shocked and disoriented, his broad chest heaving as if he were having trouble catching his breath. The sound of laughter and catcalls nearly drowned out the music.

A horrified expression crossed his face. He released her and stepped back so quickly she stumbled and would’ve fallen if he hadn’t grabbed her elbow to steady her. The instant she found her balance, he let go again, muttering something that sounded like, “Sorry, Hope.”

Without another word, he turned and strode off. Hope glanced around at the other dancers and the guests seated at the tables, many of them Jake’s grinning relatives. Uh-oh. She gave them all a quelling scowl, then picked up her long skirt and hurried after Jake.

A devastating sense of disappointment washed over her to have such a wonderful moment spoiled. If she didn’t get to Jake in a hurry, he’d draw so far back into his shell, she’d never be able to coax or pry him out again. She found him leaning against the fence between the corral and the horse pasture, his elbows propped on the top rail, his back and shoulders as stiff as the fence posts.

From the far end of the pasture, a big, buckskin gelding raised his head and nickered, then ambled toward Jake. Hope smoothed down her dress and climbed onto the bottom fence rail, raising herself to his eye level. Three other horses followed the buckskin. Propping her arms beside Jake’s, Hope silently watched the animals approach, searching for something to say.

“Jake?” It wasn’t much, but it was the best she could come up with at the moment.

“You shouldn’t have come out here.”

His voice sounded gruff and not the least bit friendly, which wasn’t at all like the Jake she knew. He’d always been pleasant, even when she knew she was annoying the devil out of him. “You seemed…upset when you left.”

“I’m fine.”

She studied him closely. His eyes had become narrow slits. His nostrils flared. A muscle along the side of his jaw ticked madly. She’d heard he had a healthy temper but had never seen it. She suspected, however, she was about to make its acquaintance. How interesting.

“You’re not fine,” she said, using the same, patient tone she’d use with a pesky reporter. “I just had the most spectacular kiss of my entire life, but you’re definitely upset.”

His neck and ears turned a dark reddish color. “Leave it alone, Hope. Forget about that kiss, and—”

“Forget about it?” She laughed in astonishment at the very idea. “Oh, I don’t believe that’s likely to happen. I don’t believe you’re going to forget it, either.”

The horses arrived at the fence. Jake scratched the buckskin’s forehead. “That kiss never should’ve happened.”

“You’ve wanted to kiss me for weeks.” She patted a black mare’s glossy neck. “If you weren’t such a big coward—”

“Coward! You think I’ve been afraid to kiss you?”

“I’ve given you every encouragement but an engraved invitation. What other explanation could there be?”

“It never occurred to you that I might not’ve been interested in kissing you?”

She chuckled. Now she’d nicked his ego, and of course he had to retaliate. “Jake, Jake, Jake, there’s been a lovely little sizzle between us since we met last summer. Please, don’t even try to pretend you haven’t been aware of it.”

He gave her a frown hot enough to start a forest fire, but kept his voice low in deference, she assumed, to the horses. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about. I’m polite to most everybody and I try to be a gentleman where women are concerned, but—”

“It’s more than politeness—”

“Only in your dreams.”

Her own temper began to simmer, but she’d never let him see it. Rule Number Two for a Happy Universe—never let them see when words stung. She shot a meaningful glance at the fly of his slacks and grinned. “Funny, it didn’t feel like…politeness when you were kissing me.”

“Well, don’t turn any cartwheels over it. That’s never gonna happen again.”

“I beg your pardon?” she asked in her sweetest tone. “I believe you enjoyed that kiss as much as I did.”

He shooed the gelding and his equine pals away. “Go on now, you big moochers. I’ve got nothin’ for ya.” When they’d trotted to the middle of the pasture, he turned back to Hope. “Just because I enjoyed it, doesn’t mean it was a good idea.”

“Darling,” she chided, barely holding in a gurgling laugh. Who would’ve dreamed he’d be so absolutely adorable when he was in a snit? “Kissing me was the best idea you’ve had in months. In fact,” she paused and leaned closer to him, “I think you should do it again.”

“Dammit.” He let out an indignant huff. “Would you be serious for one minute?”

She tipped her head slightly to one side, pretending to consider his question, then cheerfully shook her head. “I don’t think so. You’re more than serious enough for both of us.”

Glaring at her, he tightened his big hands on the fence rail, giving her the impression he’d like to have them wrapped around her neck. “You don’t understand what we’ve just gotten ourselves into. My whole family and half of Sunshine Gap saw that kiss. The other half—hell, the whole stinkin’ county will know about it before morning.”

“The last I checked, we were both single and over twenty-one. What’s the big problem?”

“Every matchmaker in a hundred square miles is liable to be after us. If you stay here, the pressure for us to get together will be unbelievable.”

“So, why don’t we get together a few times?” It was difficult to keep a straight face since she’d only been trying to convince him to do just that for the past three months. “We might actually enjoy it.”

He shook his head so vigorously, his hair fell across his forehead, giving him a rumpled look that made him seem ten years younger. “No offense intended, but you’re not the kind of gal I’d ever date.”

It wasn’t easy to hold back a wince at such bluntness, but she managed. “Why not?”

“For one thing, we’ve got nothing in common.”

“That didn’t stop Blair and Dillon.”

“I’m not Dillon and you’re sure as heck not Blair.”

Oooh, that one smarted. She’d been unfavorably compared to Blair more than once and, while Hope didn’t care about hearing it from some people, she definitely minded hearing it from Jake. “We’re not very different from them.”

“Hey, at least Blair eats meat,” he said.

“That’s important?”

He snorted at her. “This is beef country. I’m a rancher. Yeah, it’s important.”

“Well, I don’t care if other people eat meat,” Hope protested. “I simply don’t like it.” In fact, red meat actually gagged her. Jake rolled his eyes as if what she’d said was silly. He had some nerve.

“Fine,” he said. “How about the age difference? I’m too old for you.”

Hope let out an incredulous huff. “You can’t be more than forty-five.”

“I’m only forty,” he grumbled. “But that’s still too old for you.”

“Oooh, ten whole years. You’re ancient, McBride. Shall I find a cane for you?”

“Well, it just wouldn’t be right. It’s not appropriate.” He glanced at her hair, opened his mouth as if he would say something, then clamped it shut again.

“What?” she said. “You don’t like my hair?”

“It looks okay now,” he admitted, his tone grudging.

“But?” She left the word hanging between them. “Come on, you’ve obviously got a problem with my hair. Tell me.”

“When you make it spiky and turn it all those different colors, it looks mighty strange.”

“I suppose it does here.” She grinned, enjoying the idea immensely. “But it’s just a little thing I do for fun. It washes right out.”

“It’s not just the hair.” He sounded as if his patience was stretching thin in spots. “It’s the whole package.”

Hope caught a harsher note of criticism in his voice that surprised her. She raised her chin and met his gaze head-on. “Do tell.”

“You’re too flashy for a guy like me,” he said bluntly.

“Flashy?” She raised her eyebrows and patted her collarbones, feigning surprise. “Moi?”

“You know what I mean.”

She supposed she did, but sincerely hoped she was wrong. “Why don’t you explain it to me anyway? Just to be absolutely certain?”

He gave her a long, considering look, as if he were debating whether or not he should answer. “It’s the hair. The fingernails. The clothes.”

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” she asked, carefully maintaining a neutral tone.

“Nothing’s wrong with ’em. I doubt anybody’d even notice ’em in L.A.”

“But they don’t work in Sunshine Gap.”

Jake nodded. “Yeah. They’re not practical or even modest. Everything you wear is missing a strategic hunk or two of material. There’re guys all over town nursing sore necks from trying to get a better look at your…assets.”

“Oh, really, you’re exaggerating.” At least she thought he was. It was the middle of July for heaven’s sake. Everybody peeled down a bit when the weather was hot.

“The hookers in Cheyenne and Denver wear more on a work day than you do. Your stuff is too damn sexy.”

“Women aren’t supposed to be sexy in Sunshine Gap?”

“I didn’t say that.” Muttering a rude word, he jammed his right hand through his hair. “Look, it’s not personal. The thing is, if I wanted a woman in my life now, I’d be lookin’ for an old-fashioned Wyoming gal with ranching in her blood.”

Well, that certainly left her out, didn’t it? But it didn’t have to.

“Blair learned how to do all that stuff. If she can do it, so can I. You could teach me.”

“No way.” He held up both hands and stepped back, shaking his head. “I’m workin’ on important plans for my future. I don’t have time to play with a flaky little California floozy who writes raunchy books, causes scandals and looks like she came out of a can of spray paint half the time.”

Time stopped long enough to imprint every humiliating detail of Jake’s critical assessment of her into Hope’s permanent memory banks. The backs of her eyes stung, her throat closed around a golf-ball-sized lump and her chest ached as if he’d punched her just under her sternum. After three months of seeing her every day and working with her on this wedding how could he still think so little of her?

And how could she have been so wrong about him?

Automatically falling back on Rule Number Two, Hope plastered an amused smile onto her mouth. “My, my my,” she drawled. “Been reading the tabloids, Jake?”

His face flushed, but he didn’t look away. “You’re news, Hope. All the magazines and newspapers have stories about you.”

“You believe everything you read?”

“Not everything.” His tone told her he believed all but the most outrageous stories. “But you’ve gotta admit you have one colorful image.”

“Of course, I admit it,” she said calmly. “I’ve worked hard to build it.”

He frowned as if he’d never entertained the idea a celebrity might deliberately develop a certain kind of image. “I only wanted to point out our differences. I didn’t mean to offend—”

“Don’t apologize for being honest. There’s far too little honesty in this world. And since we’re being so honest, I have to say I’m terribly disappointed in you.”

“Come on—”

Hope slashed at the air like a conductor halting an orchestra. “Save it, McBride. I’ve clearly misjudged you.”

Frowning, he asked warily, “What do you mean?”

“I thought you were more than just a handsome face. Obviously, I was wrong.”

“Wait a minute,” he protested.

“You had your turn. Now it’s mine,” she retorted. “I may be a flaky California floozy, but you’re a shallow, narrow-minded idiot who can’t see past the end of your own nose.”

“Hey—”

Hope continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “You don’t have the faintest clue what you’re passing up, but someday you will. And when you do, you’re going to be one sad and sorry cowboy.”

Before Jake could even begin to think up a reply, Hope stepped down from the fence and headed back toward the party. Holding herself straight and tall as a queen, she crossed the barnyard with a smooth, unhurried stride. He watched until she rounded the corner of the house, then returned his attention to the horses, feeling a mixture of relief and regret.

He hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings, but she hadn’t been listening to him, just brushing aside his arguments as fast as he’d made them. After all of that, any man in his right mind would’ve gotten desperate, but he’d gone too far and said too much. He was sorry as hell about that. She’d gotten in some good licks of her own, though.

He almost had to smile at the idea of Hope DuMaine calling him shallow. Brother. Talk about your pots and kettles.

Still, he’d stop by the guesthouse tomorrow and apologize. He didn’t want to cause Dillon any problems with Blair’s family. He didn’t want to cause himself any problems with his own family, either. They all really liked Hope. When she wasn’t pestering the hell out of him, so did he.

But dammit, tonight was all his fault. What had possessed him to kiss her like that? And why had he done it in front of everybody?

He’d love to blame it on the alcohol he’d consumed, but he hadn’t had that much to drink. And he’d been tired, but not that tired. Well, it didn’t matter. It wouldn’t happen again because he wouldn’t let it. Even though he regretted hurting her feelings, he’d meant everything he’d said.

He wondered if Hope had meant what she’d said. That part about him being a sad and sorry cowboy had almost sounded like a threat. Jake laughed and shook his head.

“Yeah, right. I’m shakin’ in my boots. What could she possibly do to me?”

Not a blessed thing. And with any luck, by this time next week, she’d go back to L.A. She’d be off the Flying M and out of his life, and he’d finally get a little peace and quiet. After all the craziness of the past twelve weeks, surely that wasn’t too much to ask for.

Chapter Two

Still fuming at dawn the next morning, Hope loaded her luggage into the rental car and wedged a thank-you note under the back door of the Flying M’s main house. She hated to leave like a thief in the night, but if she ran into Jake, she feared she would hit him. She’d mentally replayed their argument again and again during the night and couldn’t believe he’d actually said some of those things to her.

Flaky little California floozy, indeed.

Taking one last look around the ranch yard, she got into her car and drove down the long, winding lane. She turned right onto the graveled county road, intending to say goodbye to her good friend George Pierson at the Double Circle Ranch. Three miles later she rounded a familiar curve.

On impulse, she pulled over and parked the car. She got out, put her hands on her hips and slowly turned in a complete circle. Yes, this was the right spot.

No matter which way she faced, the scenery was breathtaking. Soaring, snow-capped mountains to the west, and to the north, south and east, the green of irrigated hay meadows, the long, tidy rows of fences and power lines beside the dusty road, the endless blue sky without even a wisp of a cloud in sight.

It was so quiet. So peaceful. So private.

There was room to breathe here. Really breathe. And there was a timelessness to this land that was evident in the rock outcroppings and gullies, in the subtle, shifting colors that stretched out to a horizon that went on forever. Nothing ever changed much in this country.

No wonder Jake and his family worked so hard to keep their piece of it.

What would it be like to belong here? To have a place of her own with some reasonable expectation of permanence? Where people stayed and businesses survived beyond the latest trends in entertainment, fashion and food.

She turned around again, shading her eyes with one hand as she looked her fill of this incredible landscape. Her chest ached with the beauty of it. With the longing somehow to be a part of it. With something close to grief at the prospect of leaving it.

But leave it, she must.

Heaving a deep, regretful sigh, she slid back into her car and drove the rest of the way to George’s place. His gangly, rambunctious pup galloped out to greet her when she parked at the back door. A semi-ugly mixture of several large breeds, the dog’s name was Doofus. Unfortunately, the name seemed to fit the animal quite well, but at least he was friendly.

Hope scratched his ears for a moment, then climbed the steps and waited for George to answer her knock. If his arthritis was acting up, it could take him a few minutes to get there. Somewhere around ninety and still blessed with an excellent memory, George had been telling her about the history of the area for the next book she wanted to write next.

He was cantankerous, blunt, meddlesome, nosy, opinionated and terribly prone to gossip. The juicier the better. Hope adored him.

George had outlived his friends, chased off most of his neighbors and infuriated his relatives to the point they barely tolerated him. But, to Sunshine Gap’s surprise, crusty old George Pierson appeared to adore Hope right back.

Opening the door, he looked out, his rheumy gray eyes alight with pleasure when he recognized her. He wore faded baggy jeans held up with orange suspenders, a yellow Western shirt and a ratty pair of brown leather slippers.

“Well, well, look who’s here,” he said. “Didn’t think you’d be out of bed much before noon after that shindig yesterday. Why’s your hair black?”

“Because I’m in a black mood, George.” Hope leaned inside and kissed his wrinkled cheek. “May I come in?”

“Well, I reckon I can spare a few minutes, but you’ll have to make your own coffee.”

Though he had few visitors, George always acted as if spending a few minutes of his valuable time with her was a huge favor. Hiding a smile, Hope followed his thumping cane through the gloomy old house to the kitchen. He also claimed arthritis prevented him from doing much beyond the bare necessities for his survival, but Hope suspected he was malingering in order to get attention. He could be amazingly spry when he chose.

She gladly played along with him, filling his ancient percolator with cold water, adding the coffee and setting it on the stove. Turning around one of the straight-backed wooden chairs at the table, she straddled it, facing George’s rocker.

Once they both were seated, he smiled, showing off chewing-tobacco-stained teeth. “What do you want to know this time?”

“Actually, I’ve come to say goodbye.”

“What?” Rocking forward so hard his rocker squeaked in protest, George frowned at her, his bushy white eyebrows jutting out from his face. “You said you were stayin’ until you finished your book.”

“That’s what I’d planned,” Hope agreed, touched by how upset he was about her news. Other than Blair, she’d had few people in her life who cared if she stayed or left. “But sometimes plans have to change.”

“Why? What the hell’s happened?”

Hope tried to smile at him, but found herself surprisingly near tears instead. Jake wasn’t the only one she’d grown fond of in Sunshine Gap. She would miss this old man, the other McBrides, her dear friend, Emma, who had married Jake’s brother Cal. Hope wasn’t ready to leave any of them. But after that scene with Jake…

“Aw, jeez, don’t start blubberin’,” George grumbled, shifting restlessly in his chair. “Never could stand a blubberin’ woman.”

“Oh, get over it,” Hope grumbled back at him. “I’ll blubber if I want to. You won’t melt.”

Slapping his knee, the old man let out a cackle of laughter. “You’re somethin’ else, gal. Go ahead and bawl your head off if it makes you feel better.”

She uttered a shaky laugh and wiped her eyes with her fingertips. “No, I’m okay now.”

He put the chair in motion, filling the room with soft creaking sounds. “Tell me what brought this on.”

Hope related an abbreviated version of what had happened at the wedding reception. With a few adroit questions, George dragged the rest of the story out of her. He kept rocking for several moments after she’d finished, his expression thoughtful. “You don’t have to go back to California.”

“Yes, I do. I can’t stay at the Flying M now.”

“You want Jake to think he can run you off that easy?”

“No, but there’s not even a decent motel in Sunshine Gap.”

“So find some other place to stay. Hell, stay here.”

“I couldn’t impose on you.”

“I invited ya, didn’t I?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“But nothin’. You wouldn’t be imposin’. This old house is so big, I rattle around in it all by myself. We could go for a week and not even see each other.”

“It’s not that big, George,” Hope said with a chuckle.

“Long as you don’t blubber all the time, I reckon we can get along well enough.” George’s expression turned shrewd. “Maybe we could even help each other out.”

The old man was up to something, but what? In spite of her better judgment, Hope asked, “How?”

“You love livin’ here. Around Sunshine Gap, I mean.”

She hesitated, then slowly nodded. “Something here calls to me. I don’t know quite what it is, but everything’s just so…real here. I don’t know if it’s the land or the people.”

“Could be the lack of people,” he suggested. “Must be mighty nice to drive down a road that ain’t all clogged up with traffic.”

“That’s true.” She smiled at him. “But it’s more than that. When I’m in Wyoming, I feel as if…as if I’m home. I can think here. And see life more clearly. I know I’ve done some of my best writing here.”

“Then why don’t you buy this place?”

Hope felt her mouth fall open and knew she was gaping at him. “The Double Circle?”

“It’s the only ranch I own. I won’t even try to rip you off ’cause you’re rich. All I want’s the fair market value.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Why the hell not? I’m ninety-one years old, gal. When I croak, somebody’s gonna buy it. Might as well be you.”

“But I’m a writer. I don’t know anything about ranching.”

“That’s the beauty of my idea. I got a couple of conditions before I agree to this sale.”

“Conditions?” She might’ve known. There were always conditions, and they often were unacceptable.

Scowling, he shook his head at her as if she were trying his patience. “Hear me out before you get your drawers in a knot. First condition is, I can keep my room in this house as long as I want it. I ain’t afraid of dyin’, but I am afraid of bein’ helpless. If I get to where I need a nurse to take care of me, I’d like to have somebody I trust here to keep an eye on things. Make sure I’m treated right, ya know?”

Hope blinked at the sudden vulnerability in George’s wrinkled face. Having been raised by servants, she knew exactly how it felt to be dependent on people who weren’t always kind. But she didn’t dare show any emotion he might interpret as pity. “Of course,” she said in a businesslike tone. “What are the other conditions?”

“There’s just one. If you ever decide to sell this place, I want your word you won’t sell it to some developer who’ll cut it up into five-acre lots. That’s what my idiot nephew’ll do if he ever gets his hands on the Double Circle. Kid never was worth the bullet it’d take to shoot him.”

“I could live with your conditions, but I still don’t know anything about running a ranch. From what I’ve seen, it involves a great deal of hard work.”

“That it does, but I can teach you what you need to know, and you can always hire whatever help you need. Shoot, my hand Scott pretty much runs this place on his own.”

“But doesn’t Jake want the Double Circle?”

George grinned. “Yup. Jake’s wanted this ranch for years. Made me some nice offers and he helps me out when I need somebody to check up on Scott.”

“Then why don’t you sell it to him?”

“’Cause then I’d have to leave, and where would I go? Some damn nursing home? I’d rather be dead.”