How to Handle a Cowboy (21 page)

He tapped on the window, and like a fool, she rolled it down. He rested his elbows on the edge. She resisted the urge to reach out and stroke the hair on his muscular forearms, brown hair bleached to blond by the sun.

“As far as the drive home is concerned, just watch your speed. Sheriff Jim loves to catch speeders.”

She nodded, a little annoyed. She hardly needed driving instructions from him. Why did men always assume women couldn't drive?

“As far as our personal relationship goes, the roller coaster's going uphill right now—not a bad place to be, really.”

He straightened, tipped his hat, and headed back to the truck, so she didn't get the chance to tell him again that there wouldn't
be
any personal relationship between them. It would be professional, all professional. She was getting off the roller coaster, even if she had to climb out of the car and jump.

But as she rolled down the road, she couldn't help puzzling over what he'd said. Uphill was the hard part of the roller coaster ride, when the little cars huffed and puffed to reach the top of the hill, right? So what did that mean,
It's going uphill right now
? He said that like it was a
good
thing.

She thought of the last roller coaster ride she'd been on. It had been at Elitch Gardens, an amusement park that had been built in the 1890s and somehow survived despite the fact that it was located in the heart of Denver. She'd regretted her decision to ride the Sidewinder the minute she handed her money to the sunburned teenager who ran the ride. But as the little car began its clattering ascent, the park spread out below her. She watched the families strolling the grounds, the young couples sharing funnel cakes and hot dogs. As they rolled higher, ever higher, she could see beyond the border of the amusement park, where the city's apartment buildings and warehouses gave way to open land, neat squares and circles of planted fields divided by straight, brown roads leading in all directions. The world kept getting bigger and bigger as she rose higher and higher.

Snug in her little car, she'd felt like she owned that world—a happy world, a world where kids rode the Spider for fifty cents and couples snuggled on the Ferris wheel, where teacups twirled laughing children and winning a giant teddy bear was the only ambition that mattered.

When she'd reached the summit, she'd felt her car tipping forward, first a little, then a little more, and she'd wondered, with a thrill of delight, what lay ahead. Whatever it was, however fast they clattered down the tracks, she knew that if she lifted her arms in the air and trusted to the future, her heart would fill with joy.

Is that what life with Ridge would be like? Because she could live a life like that.

She just couldn't live it in Wynott.

When Sierra shut the car off in front of Phoenix House, the little town's silent night seemed even more profound than usual. She heard the scrape of a window being opened, then the bang of a screen door. Her neighbors were on the job, watching the street for trouble and probably hoping to pick up a little gossip fodder as well. The story of her late-night arrival would be a topic of speculation on the bench outside the hardware store by morning.

At least Riley wasn't there to tease her about her long night with Ridge—or to hear her toss and turn as she relived their lovemaking over and over in her dreams.

As it turned out, Riley didn't turn up until nine the next morning—late enough that Sierra had time to put the kids on the bus and pace the floor for over an hour, worrying about her.

“Where have you
been
?”

Riley flashed her a smile. “Umm, Denver?” She set her hands on her hips and cocked her head. The pose exuded an air of confidence Sierra hadn't seen from Riley in years. “You know, where I told you I was going to be?” She grinned and flopped down on one of the two worn chairs by the bay window.

“It's just that I worry,” Sierra said.

“I know. But wait till you hear what I found out.” Riley wriggled with excitement.

“About what?”

“About that asshole Mitch.”

Sierra sat up and grabbed the edge of the sofa. “I knew it! I knew you were with him! I heard his voice on the phone.” She narrowed her eyes. “So you
did
lie to me.”

“Nope. I was at my Mom's place.”

“He was
there
?”

“I invited him over.”

“Riley, how could you do that? You know he lied about knowing me.” Her eyes widened. “You're not thinking about starting up a relationship with him, are you? Because—”

“Sierra.” Riley cocked her head sideways and glanced up at the ceiling, still channeling that fed-up teenager. “I'm not stupid. I know he lied, and I wanted to know why. So I lured him into my web and found out more about him.” She did her best Cruella de Vil laugh. “I think he thought I was going to sleep with him or something. He was trying to impress me with all his great accomplishments.”

“Like what?”

“Like that he's a major drug dealer down there.
Major.
I got him bragging about how much
product
he moves, all that kind of thing.”

“Oh, that's great news.”

“So we know he wasn't at that Alcoholics Anonymous meeting where I met him to deal with any kind of addiction. He was looking for me because he wanted to get to you.”

Sierra felt a prickle of unease at the nape of her neck, as if a cold hand had reached out to tickle her there. “Why would he want to get to me?”

“I don't know.” Riley's confidence seemed to escape from her like air from a balloon, and she slumped in her chair. “I asked him, but he wouldn't tell me. I asked him why he wanted to know the kids' names too, and he gave me some bullshit about friends naming their baby.”

“You
asked
him?”

“Well, sure. Why not?”

“You shouldn't have put yourself in danger like that.”

“Sierra, I rode all the way up here with him. If he was going to hurt me, he'd have done it then. I think he's after one of the kids.”

“I know.” Sierra picked at a hole in the ancient couch.

“Do you think one of the kids' parents is some kind of druggie and owes him money or something?”

The chill clutched the back of Sierra's neck then scampered down her spine. “It's possible.” She stood. “In any case, there's no way you can go back to Denver now. We need to keep you safe until I get this figured out.”

Riley perked up again. “So I can stay here?”

“Even better.” Sierra took a deep breath and put on her best Happy-Birthday-Fourth-of-July-Merry Christmas smile. “You're going to stay at Decker Ranch!”

Riley stared at her, her mouth hanging open ever so slightly. “With that cowboy?”

“You bet.
And
he's got a job for you.”

“Right,” Riley said. “Next you'll tell me he's got sparkly unicorns. If he does, he probably wants me to clean their stalls.”

“Nope. You won't believe this. He's renovating the house, and he wants you to help.”

That got Riley's attention. “Really?”

“Really.”

“He actually wants me to help, or you talked him into taking me on as a pity case?”

“You're not a pity case.”

“But you
did
talk him into it, didn't you?”

“Just take a look,” Sierra said. “Come with me and see the place. If you hate it, I'll take you back to Denver.”

“Really?”

“Really. But I think you'll like it. He has a really nice room for you, with plenty of privacy.”

Riley's eyes narrowed and a slow smile spread over her face. “You went out there last night.”

Sierra felt herself blushing, so there was no point in lying. “Just to make sure he had a good place for you to stay.”

“Yeah? And is that all you did?”

Sierra didn't want to lie outright. “You know I'm not looking for a guy right now.”

“
I
know that. But does
he
know that?”

Sierra nodded, feeling like she was back on solid ground. She had told Ridge, in no uncertain terms, that she wasn't looking for love. Riley didn't need to know that was
after
she'd had red-hot, crazy, caterwauling sex with him.

“So you guys are just friends?”

Sierra thought a moment. What was the truth? Was she really done with Ridge Cooper, or was she kidding herself?

They had a strong connection—stronger than she'd ever felt with a man. It had her thinking about love that lasted, love that led to marriage. Over and over, as she'd tried to sleep, she'd pictured the ranch house as it had looked when she'd left. The lights from the windows had been the only sign of human habitation on the wide, night-shrouded plains. The squares of gold beaming light out into the deep, dark prairie night had looked welcoming and warm. What would it be like to live there, to always have a real home to return to, to always have a light burning for you no matter where you went? What would it be like to know where you belonged?

You're welcome back anytime.
That's what Ridge had said.
The
door's always open.

She needed to stop thinking about that door. Because no matter how well they meshed when they were rolling around in that big old bed at the ranch, Ridge's lifestyle was so different from hers he might as well be the King of England. They were miles apart.

“Earth to Sierra.” Riley waved as if from a far distance. “You and Ridge. What's the story?”

“There's nothing going on,” Sierra said. “I mean, are you kidding? He's a
cowboy.
”

“Exactly.” Riley laughed. “That would never work.”

“So are you ready to go?”

Riley froze like a startled rabbit. “Now?”

Sierra stood, brushing imaginary lint off her black capris.

“No time like the present. Come on, Riley. It's time to cowgirl up.”

A heavyset man in overalls gave Sierra and Riley a cheerful wave from the cab of some enormous Caterpillar monstrosity as they paused to turn onto the ranch road. Looking ahead, Sierra realized the monstrosity was apparently a grader, because the road's ruts and washouts were all smoothed away.

She couldn't help smiling. It was nice to know there were still men who kept their promises. Not that Ridge would be making any promises to her or anything. And grading a road was hardly a romantic gesture. But still…

She had no trouble coaxing the Jeep up the hill this time. When they reached the top and looked down on the quaint ranch house and barn, she turned to Riley.

“See? I told you it was nice.”

Riley hummed the theme song to
Green
Acres
under her breath. When Sierra didn't laugh, she fidgeted in her seat and kicked at the floorboards. “I'm sorry. I know I should be grateful that you've found a place for me. And I am, I really am. It's just so—different.”

“Just give it a chance,” Sierra said. “I didn't expect to like it either, but I love it out here. I wish
I
could live here for a while.”

“Yeah, but you have ulterior motives.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

They laughed together, and Sierra felt the tension between them easing away.

As they exited the car, the Tweedles bolted from their stations on the porch and performed their usual balletic greeting, swirling around both women, swishing their long, brushy tails. Riley shied away as Sierra bent to pet them, ruffling the thick fur on their shoulders and stroking their silky ears as they took turns lunging for her face, sloppy kisses locked and loaded.

Once the dogs had calmed down, Sierra headed for the house with Riley trailing behind her. She rapped sharply on the screen door. Since the front door was standing open, she stepped inside, the dogs following.

“Ridge?” she called.

The dogs shoved her aside and rocketed past her, furry feet skidding on the hardwood floor of the hallway as they hooked the turn into Ridge's bedroom. Almost immediately, a volley of curses erupted, and one of the dogs appeared a second later, gleefully dragging a white T-shirt. The other dog joined its partner, slipping and scrambling as it grabbed the other end of the garment.

“Dammit, give that back.” Ridge bolted out of the bedroom. His hair was wet, his eyes were wild, and he wore nothing but a pair of jeans. He barely wore those, since they were unbelted and hung so low on his hips Sierra was afraid he might lose them at any moment.

“Dum! Dee!”

Sierra and Riley jumped aside as the dogs sped out the front door, enjoying a rollicking game of tug-o-war with the shirt as they ran. Once they reached the yard, they stopped and really put their hearts into the game, bracing their front legs and growling ferociously.

“Dum! Dee!
Dum!
” Ridge yelled as he passed them.

Riley looked at the dogs then at Ridge, then at Sierra. “Dum dee dum dee dum?” she sang in a tentative alto.

Sierra started laughing just as the dogs paused in their growling and the unmistakable sound of tearing cloth rent the still autumn air. But at least part of the shirt held, and the dogs began circling, still growling, still tugging, humping up their shoulders with effort as they moved across the yard in slow circles.

Ridge caught up and grabbed the middle of the shirt with one hand, nearly hauling both dogs off the ground. Still they clung to it until one lost its hold. The loser turned and barked madly as the remaining contestants tussled over the shirt.

Ridge wrapped the fabric around one hand, reminding Sierra he couldn't hang on with the other one. The muscles in his arm bulged while his back and shoulders rippled with every tug.

Meanwhile, the dog laid back her ears and held on, shaking her head furiously as she tried to rip the shirt from his hand.

“Dum.
Dum
!” he yelled.

“Is that the dog's name?” Riley asked.

Sierra nodded, but she wasn't paying much attention to Riley. How could she when Ridge was putting on such a show? Water droplets flew from his hair and trailed down the bunched muscles of his back as he wrestled with his dog.

The dog growled low as Ridge hauled her closer and closer. Soon man and dog were nose to nose, and Sierra was pretty sure they were both growling. Ridge's brows were drawn down and his eyes were fixed on the dog's with a primal intensity that made Sierra a little nervous. If
she
were a dog, she would've given him back his shirt.

Although she might not let him put it on. She'd have to give the dogs a treat later on to reward them for the show.

Actually, she'd have to give them a treat for sidelining what could have been a very awkward situation. She'd been worried about what she'd say to Ridge. What he'd say to her. Whether Riley would be able to sense the tension between them…

“
Rrrrrrrr
.”

Dog and man seemed locked in a battle of will as much as a contest of strength, and Sierra wondered if Ridge even knew she and Riley were there. Riley had retreated to the porch and leaned against the railing, checking her cell phone messages and ignoring the half-naked man and his dog.

Sierra couldn't do that. In fact, she was tempted to join the game. Maybe the dog would let go and she'd be left with Ridge. If she could recapture the energy that had hummed between them in bed, she just might win. Or the battle would end with the two of them rolling in the dirt. She could think of worse outcomes.

No, no,
no.

She was done with that. Ridge was a friend who was helping Riley and the boys. And she couldn't spend all day waiting for him to reclaim his shirt. Somebody needed to stop this fight or it might go on long enough for her libido to cycle around again. There were a million other reasons she shouldn't act on her impulses, but she'd deliberately insured herself against his charms when she'd gotten dressed, choosing her ugliest granny panties and a mismatched bra. There was no way anyone was going to slip back into last night's amorous mood.

But if this fight kept up, even that wouldn't work. Putting her fingers to her lips, she let out a high, shrill whistle.

Stunned by the sound, the dog let go of the shirt so quickly that Ridge stumbled backward and landed on the seat of his Wranglers. The dog ran to her, and she rumpled its fur as it gazed up at her with a happy doggie grin. If dogs could laugh, that's what Dum was doing.

“Good dog,” she said. “Good dog.”

“Thanks.” Ridge rose and dusted off his seat. “I think.” He held up his shredded T-shirt. Sierra took one look at it and started to giggle.

The other dog, who had been watching the fight, trotted over to check out Riley, who stood stiffly as the dog sniffed her thoroughly.

“Hello, Dum-dum,” she said.

That sent Sierra off into another round of giggles. About the time she doubled over and grabbed her stomach, Ridge tossed the shirt over the railing and joined her, laughing.

“What? Isn't that his name?” Riley looked indignant, which only made them laugh harder. “You said his name was Dum-dum.”

“Sorry. Sorry.” Sierra struggled to regain her self-control, but it was a tough fight. “It's…Dum,” she gasped out.

“I know it's dumb. It's a stupid name for a dog. It's—
ack!
What is that?” Riley's eyes were fixed over Sierra's shoulder, her expression a mixture of revulsion and horror that could only mean one thing.

“Sluefoot,” Ridge said. “Dammit, how did you get out, buddy?”

Sierra turned to see the horrifying horse coming up behind her, his head tilted oddly, his one good eye fixed on the newcomer. Judging from the determination in his stride, he was sure someone had brought him some treats, and he thought Riley looked like a likely candidate.

“What the hell
is
that?” As the horse stretched his neck toward her, Riley retreated up the steps and both Sierra and Ridge burst into laughter again.

“He's my horse,” Ridge said. “He can let himself out of his stall, and he comes when you whistle.”

Sierra clapped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry. I was just trying to break up the fight.”

“I'm not sure I'll be able to sleep here,” Riley said. “I swear, he is
after
me.”

Sierra did her best to smother her laughter. “Ridge'll have to put a lock on his stall. I'll add it to the to-do list.” She showed him the folder she'd brought with her. “I brought your code requirements.”

Riley perked up for the first time all day. “So he really is renovating?”

“Well, yeah, dummy. I told you he was.”

“I thought you were just trying to get me out here.” She grabbed the folder and started flipping through it. “There's a lot here. When was the house last updated?”

Ridge shrugged and Riley grinned. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

Sierra hadn't ever seen Riley so happy. As soon as they stepped inside, she was everywhere, tapping the walls, frowning at the floorboards, even picking at paint on the wood trim. “This is probably lead-based paint,” she said. “I don't know what the rules are in Wyoming, but in Colorado you have to strip this and repaint. You'll need a mask, 'cause you don't want to breathe the stuff. Pure poison. And I wonder if the insulation is asbestos.” Frowning, she looked up at the light fixture hanging from the ceiling. Sierra had never noticed it before. It was apparently from the twenties or thirties. The brass was decorated in geometric patterns and the glass globes etched with matching designs. “That's cool, but if your wiring's the same age as the fixtures, you've got a lot of work to do.”

Sierra could feel her jaw dropping. Where had this confident, competent Riley come from?

“How do you know all this?” Ridge asked.

“I took classes at Climb Colorado,” Riley said. “I got a certificate in Home Renovation—or at least I will, as soon as I find a whole-house project to do. I know all about codes and how to do the work.” She pulled a curtain aside to study the woodwork beneath. “I haven't been able to finish because my job took up my days, so I couldn't get my final project done. But this would work.” She turned to Sierra with a bright smile. “This could be my project.”

Sierra felt all the pieces of her universe clicking into place, fitting together in perfect harmony, making the random events of the past few days align in patterns as neat and pleasing as the decorations on the old light fixture.

“This is perfect,” Sierra told Ridge. “She's just the person you need.”

Ridge shot her a doubtful frown.

“See?” Riley said. “I knew he didn't want me here.”

“No, really,” Sierra said. “Riley, go get your stuff.”

“Who says I want to help him, anyway?” Riley said. But she headed for the car to get the battered suitcase that had gone with her from one shoddy apartment to another with frequent stops at Sierra's in between.

“See?” Sierra gave Ridge an encouraging smile. “It's meant to be. You help her, and she helps you.”

“We'll see,” he said.

“It's a great idea,” Sierra said firmly. “She needs a place to stay and a house to renovate, and you need help with your house. She won't feel like she's taking charity, and you won't feel like, um, well, like I talked you into something you didn't want to do.”

He didn't look convinced. “I never said I needed help. And you said she'd just be here a couple of days.” He nodded toward the bulky folder under her arm. “That looks like a lot more than a couple days' work. And I can do it myself.”

Sierra gazed pointedly around the room, at the cracked plaster walls, the damp stains on the ceiling, and the chipped paint Riley had pointed out. “Have you done this kind of thing before?”

He shook his head. His hair was still wet, and droplets of water dripped onto his bare shoulders.

“And you do need the help. Your hand…”

“Forget my hand.” He looked positively fierce, and she decided she'd better remember not to mention his injury again. “My hand's fine. I don't need help from anybody. And she just said she doesn't
want
to help.”

“I said I didn't want to help
you
,” Riley said, appearing at the doorway with an ancient Samsonite suitcase in tow. “I didn't say I wouldn't do the work.”

She looked utterly out of place in the old-fashioned front hall with her cockeyed haircut and her angular, mismatched earrings catching the afternoon light from the window. But her eyes glowed as she gazed around the hallway at the antiquated fixtures and uneven walls. “I'd love to do the work. This place is a renovator's dream.” She reached over to the window and stroked a pane of glass. “You want to keep all the original stuff you can, right? We'll bring it up to date without spoiling the features that make it special. Preservation. That's what I really want to do. Like, for historical places.”

She tossed her hair back with more spunk than Sierra had seen from her in years and gave Ridge a sharp nod. “I'll take a look at this to see what's different from Colorado. Then I'll check out the house, room by room, work up a supply list and a budget, and figure out a reasonable time frame for each job. Sound good?”

Ridge stared down at the floor and heaved a heavy sigh. “All right,” he said. “Let me show you where you'll sleep. Temporarily.”

As he led Riley down the hallway, Sierra stood dumbstruck in the foyer, wondering what had happened to her needy, fragile friend. Who was this capable, sharp-eyed stranger who had taken her place?

Most important, why did Sierra feel a little melancholy at the loss of the old Riley?

Maybe it was because the new Riley didn't need her anymore, and that made Sierra feel a little less capable herself.