Eleven (6 page)

He arrived at 10:00 o’clock, right on
the spot. I heard a knock at the door just as I was carrying my
overnight bag from the bedroom into the living room.

Opening the door, I invited him inside.
I practically jumped at him to give him a big hug around his neck.
I had really missed the guy.

He grinned as he removed his Ray Ban
Aviators; looked me up and down and said, “Damn, girl! I thought I
told you to wear something boring.”

I smirked at his comment, put my hands
on my hips and replied, “Well I did the best I could.”

“
I think you could probably
manage to make a gunny sack look good,” he said shaking his
head.

“
C’mon, let’s blow this
town, Mister!” I winked at him and bent over to grab the handle of
my bag.

He beat me to it and said, “Allow me.
Let’s go, sugar britches!”

I started out the door and he gave my
behind a stinging swat. I turned around to see him flashing a
rather wicked grin. This was going to be a fun weekend!

I had found a worthy opponent in regard
to his style of banter. He was playful and flirtatious, without
being crude.

Once again, he opened the door for me.
I looked in the back seat and realized he had already been to the
grocery store to pick up supplies for the weekend. As he got into
the driver’s seat, he reached into the floorboard behind my
seat.

“
These reminded me of you.”
He expressed as he offered me a beautiful bouquet of
tulips.

He totally caught me off guard as I
gushed, “Oh, my! They’re beautiful. Thank you, really; thank you so
much.”

“
I was gonna get you roses,
but the lady at the flower shop said something about tulips that I
liked. She said they symbolized a lover’s heart that’s on fire with
passion. That’s why they made me think of you. Besides, they didn’t
have any leopard print flowers,” he said as he winked at
me.

He leaned over and gave me a quick peck
on the lips and said, “Enough of that business. If I ever get to
kissin’ you, I’ll have a hard time stopping.”

So we headed out of town. His ranch was
about an hour’s drive from the city. During the drive, he
reminisced about growing up on the ranch. He was touched when I
told him about the memories I had of his family from when I was a
young girl. He remembered most of my family as well. From what we
could surmise, our families had known each other all the way back
to our great-grandparents.

In fact, we decided it might be best
not to climb too far up our family tree. We were astonished how
many commonalities we shared. We were afraid if we went too far
back, we might discover we were actually related.

There was solace in knowing who and
where we had come from. It made me wonder what our ancestors
would’ve thought about us ending up together. We would’ve had their
blessing, no doubt.

I kept the tulips in my lap the entire
way. Occasionally, I would lift them up to breathe in their sweet,
delicate fragrance. They were such a lovely gesture from such a
wonderful man. He was melting my heart and already spoiling me for
any other man.

I took great pleasure in watching him
as he drove. While he looked off into the distance of the road
ahead, it gave me the chance to study him. Everything about him
tugged at me. Even his profile was splendid. The morning sun
shining in through the window created a sort of haze around him.
The hair of his moustache looked so soft. The way it curved down
around the corners of his soft, full lips was so attractive. I
loved the movement of his mouth as he spoke and the cadence of his
words.

The sun’s bright reflection danced off
his shades. He wasn’t wearing his hat that day. His hair was wavy
and silky to the touch. The short tendrils around the nape of his
neck were precious and manly all at the same time. Every feature
endeared him to me more and more.

He was 47 and at the peak of his
manliness. Life had seasoned him to perfection. There was no longer
a trace of the arrogance or unsurety men in their twenties embody.
He was past the thirty-something crisis phase in which most of his
male counterparts suffer tumultuous need for reassurance of their
manhood.

He had been molded by his experiences.
This was a man who had suffered loss and heartbreak. I could see
glimpses of it in his eyes. And I knew when someone goes through
what he had been through, they were less likely to hurt
another—they know what that kind of pain feels like and are less
likely to inflict it on someone else. He had been well tempered by
his past.

For that reason, my heart felt safe
around him. I wasn’t accustomed to that feeling. It scared me. I
had to remind myself to let go of the insecurities of my own past.
Something inside me knew he was worth the risk.

The look in his eyes also told me he
knew what to do with a woman if given the chance. This wasn’t his
first rodeo. I, however, felt as if I were about to be thrown into
the bull ring for the first time.

I remembered the advice of one of my
sisters from long ago when I was at my first dance in Shamrock,
Texas. As I stood nervous and tense by the dance floor, a cowboy
approached me and asked me to dance.

Initially, I had refused. But my sister
pushed me into his arms and said, “Just get out there and act like
you know what you’re doin’!”

That’s some of the best advice I have
ever been given and it was about to become useful in my life, yet
again. As I looked the bull straight into the eyes, I prayed the
protective vest to shield my heart was well intact!

He placed his right arm on the console.
I wasted no time in sliding my arm around his. I took his hand and
turned the palm up and began tracing the lines with my long
fingernail, beginning with the head line. Then I followed by slowly
tracing the half circle of his life line and the straight lines of
heart and fate.

He shifted in his seat, looking
somewhat uncomfortable. He pulled his hand away and took a quick
turn off the highway onto the first turn-row we came to. He sped
down the dirt road for a short distance, then slammed on his breaks
and put the truck in park as we came to a sliding stop.

Then he reached over and pulled me over
the console into his lap, spilling the tulips into the floorboard.
He began smothering my face with urgent kisses as he pulled me
closer to him, our chests tightly pressed against each other as his
strong arms firmly held me.

When our lips finally parted and we
came up for air, he said in frustration, “Damn it, what are you
doing to me?”

I was a bit worried until a huge smile
stretched across his face.

“
You only touched the palm
of my hand and it damn near drove me crazy. I think you and I may
have a hard time making it to anywhere on time or getting anything
done,” he exclaimed.

I felt as though I had just grabbed the
bull by the horns. Apparently, I had a pretty powerful grip over
him, as well!

I slid back over to my side of the
truck, retrieved my tulips from the floorboard and said, “Put it in
drive, Mister. Let’s get our asses to the ranch!”

He put the truck in drive, spun the
tires in a half-donut, and we were off—again.

Chapter 12

Cowboy Up

We reached the ranch around noon. About
thirty minutes prior to our arrival, he had pointed out the East
border of the ranch which was demarcated by the corner of a
mesquite posted barbed wire fence. Obviously, it was a rather large
expanse of territory.

He made a left turn and drove up to the
gate; rolling his window down to enter a security code into a
numerical panel embedded in the stacked Texas flagstone gateway.
The huge iron gate slowly swung open. As we drove over the cattle
guard, I noticed the ornate, decorative wrought iron arch above us.
The same ranch brand he wore on his belt buckle was set into an
oval in the middle of the archway.

In the distance, I could see a large
house at the end of a winding trail that snaked up the highest part
of the outstretched land of brush, yucca, and mesquite. Although
the house was ranch style in architecture, its posh appropriations
contradicted any notion of a tough life out on the range. This spot
in the middle of nowhere was indeed a welcome oasis.

The exterior of the home was made the
same rough-hewn Texas flagstone that I had seen on the gateway
entrance. The front porch was lined with rocking chairs and had a
large cedar swing on one end that looked out onto the spread of
land. Twelve thick cedar posts bolstered the length of the
porch.

As we approached our destination, the
rough caliche road was soon replaced by a smooth concrete drive.
The driveway curved in front of the estate and to the side where
there was a large parking area bordered by cedar hitching posts.
The wide concrete path meandered behind, to the back entrance of
the house. We pulled into the large garage and the door closed
behind us.

He invited me to make myself at home
while he unloaded the truck. I walked inside, through the mudroom
where there was a mingled scent of dirt, hay, and leather. There
were several pairs of boots lined up in front of benches and wooden
locker stalls. There were a couple of bootjacks and several pairs
of work gloves scattered along the benches. A mélange of Carhartt
jackets, ropes, and hats hung along the wall.

A large restroom on the left side of
the hallway featured a triple vanity and several large hampers. It
also had a large shower that was perfect for cleaning up after a
long day of working cattle.

From what I had seen so far, I had the
feeling his mother must have had quite a bit to do with the design
of this house. This must have been her carefully thought out
attempt at making sure the rough and tumble men in her life didn’t
mess up the rest of the house. She was a wise woman.

I made my way down the hallway that
opened up into the kitchen. It was complete with every modern
convenience. The appliances were concealed among the maple
cabinetry. Even the double refrigerator blended into the design
with matching wood panels. There was a huge island in the middle of
room with a solid, dark granite slab. I think the island alone may
have been bigger than my entire kitchen. It had a full sink and
counter-top grill, over which hung a large copper vented hood. The
door to the formal dining room could be seen at the opposite end of
the kitchen.

I continued to walk through the right
side of the kitchen and went around the corner of a doorway which
opened up into a vast great room. The room was lofty with dark,
massive timber scissor trusses supporting the vaulted pine plank
ceiling. The hardwood floors matched the wood above. The opening of
the fireplace was nearly six feet tall and just as wide, with a
dark timber mantle adorning the Texas flagstone that was stacked
all the way to the top of the room. Ornate wooden staircases with
wrought-iron banisters wound around the sides and back of the
fireplace, leading to the second level. The entire perimeter of the
great-room was surrounded by a railed landing that led to the
multiple rooms upstairs.

Beautifully woven rugs graced the
floors of the great room, which was furnished with soft leather
couches and over-sized chairs. A blazing fire was roaring in the
fireplace. The logs crackled and popped, lending warmth to the
room. I recognized the scent of the fire. It wasn’t the familiar
Texas mesquite, but rather the spicy fragrance of pinon pine that
wafted through the air.

The South wall of the room was paned
glass that went from floor to ceiling. The view spanned across the
rugged Texas terrain I loved so much.

This was the kind of luxury I had only
been exposed to in the pages of Texas Monthly or Southern Living
magazines. Everything was orderly and the room smelled as if it had
been recently cleaned. The lit fireplace suggested we were not
completely alone. As I looked out the paned glass windows, I could
see a row of smaller houses. It became apparent that he must have
arranged for someone to prepare the place for our
arrival.

I walked over to enjoy the warmth of
the fireplace. The only time I had ever seen a fireplace this big
was in movies about castles and on Lifestyles of the Rich and
Famous. I resisted the urge to pinch myself in order to remind
myself that I was actually here; standing in the middle of this
place—with him.

He walked up behind me and placed his
arms around my waist, hugging me from behind.

“
Since this position has
gotten us into trouble before, I’ll keep it brief,” he laughed.
“Let’s go for a ride.”

He gave me another playful swat on the
backside. Not that I minded, but it seemed he was developing quite
an appreciation for that part of my anatomy.

He took my hand and led me back to the
mud room. Waiting there for me was a beautifully colored Pendleton
Southwest blanket coat and a gorgeous brown felt Stetson hanging on
two of the hooks.

As he removed the jacket from the hook
and held it for me to put on, he said, “I had to guess on the
sizes. I hope they fit.”

I slid my arms into the jacket and
zipped it up. I reached back and pulled the band out of my hair. My
ponytail fell into long loose curls as I bent over to shake it out.
I threw my head back and slipped the cowboy hat in place—perfect
fit!