Sunset at Keyhole Canyon: A Mustang Ridge Novella (4 page)

Later that day, after their promised rendezvous behind the barn, Nina sat beside Ben in their borrowed ATV, with their bodies bumping together as they headed along a rough two-wheeled track. There wasn’t anyplace she’d rather be. Not just because of the gorgeous countryside surrounding them and the promise of an adventure ahead, but because of the man who had his arm around her, holding on tight to cushion her from the worst of the jostling.

Wearing newer jeans and a blue shirt a few shades darker than his eyes, with his freshly showered hair combed back and falling into touchable waves as it dried, he was a steady, solid presence beside her. He was warm when the late afternoon had started to cool, strong where the rugged road tried to pull the wheel from his hands. And with a picnic basket strapped to the cargo deck behind them, he was taking her to the high-country lake that the wild mustangs were rumored to frequent this time of year.

It was incredible. Amazing.

He
was amazing.

Nina snuck a look at him just as he glanced down at her. Their eyes met, and a sharp, wanting heat kindled in her belly. He tightened his arm briefly around her, then returned his attention to the so-called road as they headed up a long incline leading to a faraway ridge. That gave her a moment to stare at him and let that heat spread—but there were nerves, too.

How had he gotten so thoroughly under her skin? How had it happened this fast?

Too fast
, she thought, but couldn’t make herself get some distance, physically or otherwise. Then they crested the ridge, and she stopped thinking, stopped worrying, and her mouth fell open in a gasp of pleasure. “Oh! It’s gorgeous!”

The trail snaked down into a green valley, winding around a number of huge gray boulders that were surrounded by explosions of tiny purple and yellow flowers. At the bottom of the valley, the trail ended at a lake that looked like something out of a calendar or a movie set, too perfect to be real. The water was a deep blue, with silver gleams rippling along the surface and worn-smooth places at the water’s edge where the herds came to drink.

“Welcome to Mare’s Rest Lake,” Ben said as he sent the four-wheeler down the winding path. “According to Krista, this is one of the best places to see wild horses this time of day. They come down to drink just before dusk, when they can still see pretty well and the nocturnal predators aren’t all the way awake yet.”

“Predators?” She shot him a dubious look. “I don’t think I like the sound of that.”

He gave her a squeeze. “Me neither, but Foster said we’d be okay if we stayed on open ground, away from the trees.”

Where Keyhole Canyon had been stark and rugged, the lake and its surroundings were lush, with trees along one edge, their branches tugging in the faint breeze, making her think that a deer—or more, a mustang foal and its wary mama—could step through at any moment.

“If it comes down to it,” Ben continued as he let the vehicle coast to a stop, “I’ve got bear spray on me, and there’s a shotgun behind the seat. Just in case.”

“Right. Just in case.” The idea of a loaded shotgun shouldn’t have made her want to laugh, but that was exactly what she did as she jumped down from the vehicle and filled her lung with crisp air that didn’t seem nearly so thin now as it had only a few days ago.

But that was the thing—nothing was like it had been last weekend when she left her condo to fly to Wyoming. She was off on a mustang adventure with Ben, complete with a picnic and a shotgun. If anybody had suggested something along those lines a week ago, she would’ve thought it was a heck of a joke. Now, though, she couldn’t imagine being anywhere else, with anyone else.

“Like it?” he asked with a grin in his voice.

She went ahead and did a twirl. “I love it.”

They were twenty or so feet from where the grass turned to lakeshore pebbles. Nearby, a huge boulder thrust out over the lake, wide and flat, with charred places that suggested they weren’t the first to picnic there.

“I can just picture us sitting here a hundred years ago,” Ben said, coming up beside her so they stood shoulder-to-shoulder, staring across the lake to the far shore, with its thick stands of trees and beaten-down watering spots. “Two hundred years, or even more. We’re cowboys, maybe, stopping to grab a bite while the herd drinks its fill. Or maybe we’re pioneers with a homestead nearby, having a picnic, just the two of us.”

Her head went a little light—from the moment, the images, the man. “Ben . . .” She trailed off, not sure what she wanted to say. Who would’ve guessed he was a dreamer?

“Sorry.” He grinned over at her. “My mind gets away from me like that sometimes. Did I mention I had a thing about cowboys when I was a kid? Anyway . . .” He gestured to the wide, flat rock. “This looks like our picnic spot, but I don’t see any mustangs.”

Nina was a little shaken by the realization of just how little she knew about him, really, but she forced a teasing tone, determined to keep it light. “I don’t suppose yelling ‘Here, horsie, horsie, horsie’ is going to get us very far.”

He chuckled. “Possibly not. I’m guessing it’s more of a ‘have patience and maybe you’ll get lucky’ kind of situation. In the meantime . . .” He lifted the heavy picnic hamper easily. “What do you say we see what Gran packed for us this evening?”

“I say absolutely, yes!”

It turned out that the ranch’s virtuoso of biscuits and family-style meals had hooked them up with thick, buttery soft slabs of ham in sourdough buns with all the trimmings and sides and a tin of chocolate chip cookies so fresh that when Nina opened it, she was pretty sure she gained a few pounds just from breathing the trapped air.

“Mmmm.” She closed her eyes and inhaled, then covered the cookies and set them aside. “Sorry, boys, you’re going to have to wait. No dessert before dinner.”

“Says who?”

“Says everyone. My mother, for one.”

His eyes went wicked as he uncovered the cookies and waved them in front of her. “You mean to tell me that you’ve never had chocolate chip cookies for dinner?”

Laugher bubbled up. “Okay, you got me. I also eat mac and cheese straight out of the pot sometimes. Not on a date, though.”

“Well, I think this is the perfect time to start.” He took a cookie and bit in, his teeth making a perfect semicircle and turning the cookie into a crescent moon. Then he held out the tin and wiggled his eyebrows evilly. “Come on. You know you want to.”

She fended him off. “You’re a doctor! Isn’t there something in the Hippocratic oath about the food pyramid and eating your veggies before you can have your dessert?”

“I’m a surgeon. Where other doctors mess around with tests and differential diagnoses, we cut right to the point.”

“Which is?”

“Sometimes you need to do what feels good.” He held out the rest of his cookie. “And this feels very good. Doesn’t it?”

She hesitated, not sure if it was a question or a dare. Then, realizing that
all
of this was daring for her—the ranch, the lake, being alone with Ben—she leaned in and took a bite, turning the crescent moon into a scythe.

Eyes darkening, he ate the last bite himself. He didn’t lick his fingers, but the vibe was thick in the air and the heat of his gaze.

“Yes,” she acknowledged, voice barely above a whisper. “It feels good. Too good.” And it was suddenly overwhelming. She wanted to lunge across and kiss him, wanted to feel his body against hers. More, she wanted to know that she was going to feel like this again and again, even once they went home. Licks of panic came at the thought that she might not.

“What’s wrong?” he said, expression shifting, though she didn’t know what he had seen on her face, how much he had understood. He reached out and took her hand. “Nina? What’s the matter?”

Don’t do it
, she told herself.
If you get too intense, you’ll spook him like you did before
. Because she was pretty sure that had been at least part of the disconnect. But at the same time, she didn’t want to be with someone if it meant tiptoeing around important things.

So, after a brief hesitation, she said, “This doesn’t feel real. It’s . . . I don’t know. A vacation fantasy. Don’t get me wrong,” she added quickly. “This is amazing.” It was too simple a word for the picnic, the lake, the man . . . forcing her to admit that none of it was simple anymore.

“But?” His eyes were as steady as his hold, encouraging her to lean, to hang on tight.

She had gone into this telling herself not to take him too seriously.
Hel-lo, fail
. “It’s already Tuesday.”

“And you’re worried things are going to change once we get home.” It was more a statement than a question, making her think she wasn’t the only one who’d been wondering how this was going to go.

“It’s more that I’m worried things will go back to being the way they were before, with me wanting more attention than you’re able to give.” She had been honest with him about her reasons for turning down his last invitation, so it wasn’t like this was news to him. “I’m just . . .” She made a helpless gesture. “I don’t usually get in this deep with a guy, this fast. Especially when we’re on different pages, relationship-wise.”

Which was his cue to make a graceful exit, stage left, or at least pull back.

Instead, he slowly shook his head. “I don’t think we are. Things are different this time around.”

“Because of the accident?”

He nodded. “The paramedics rushed Dean and me to Davis Memorial. The ER docs took two, maybe three hours to decide that all I had were some bumps and bruises. They gave me a couple of butterfly bandages for a scalp lac, offered to watch me overnight, and didn’t seem that worried when I signed myself out instead.”

“But . . .” she said, echoing him.

“I was fine . . . but Dean wasn’t. He was in surgery by that time, prognosis guarded. When I got out to the waiting room, his wife and two kids were there, along with his parents and a sister. They hugged me, even cried over me, but I knew I was just a substitute for the guy they really wanted to see. So I waited with them, sat there another four hours, even though the doctors first tried to chase me off, then tried to put me back to bed.” His throat worked. “When the surgeon finally came out and said that Dean had made it through surgery, that he was going to be okay, you should’ve seen them. It was like . . . I don’t know. Every major holiday wrapped up together and tied with a bow.”

“You’ve never really watched a patient’s family before when they get the good news?”

“I watched, but I hadn’t really gotten what it meant, not really. Or maybe I saw, but wasn’t ready to really understand it.”

Before, she had thought this felt like a dream. Now, she was sure of it. Any minute now, she would wake up in her cabin, or maybe even back home in the city. A surreptitious pinch didn’t bring her out of it, though, and the sharp air and the warm stone beneath her seemed very real. “So you came away from the hospital thinking . . . what? That it’s time for you to get serious about a relationship?”

He nodded slowly. “I had always told myself I was looking for the right woman, that when I found my match, we’d get married and make a life together, start a family, that sort of thing. Only the accident brought it home that it wasn’t enough to look for the right woman. I need to be the guy that the right woman would fall for . . . and maybe that guy isn’t the one who works eighty hours and never gets home when he says he’s going to.”

“There are plenty of women who would be fine with that.” Especially if it came with a man like him.

But he shook his head. “I’ve dated those women, lots of them, and there’s no connection. I don’t want a partner who makes a career out of backing me up, and I don’t want one who is so independent, so busy doing her own thing that she doesn’t need anything from me. I want someone who hits the middle ground between those two, and who wants the same from me. I want someone warm, affectionate, and interested, and who makes me feel like a danged superhero, not because I’m a surgeon, but because I’m me.” He paused, voice softening. “I want someone like you, Nina. More importantly, I want
you
.”

Warmth feathered through her like sunlight. But, like the sunset that stained the horizon with gorgeous purples and blues, there was something cool on its heels. Only this wasn’t the coming dusk—it was the knowledge that he’d said something very similar after their first date. “If you felt that way, why didn’t you call me after the accident, and ask if we could give it another try?”

“I didn’t . . .” He shifted his shoulders, like he was trying to settle some weight more evenly. “It didn’t feel right.”

She let that sit for a moment, then nodded. “I guess I can respect that.”

“But it doesn’t exactly give you warm fuzzies.”

“It . . . I guess it leaves me thinking that if it hadn’t been for Cheryl, we never would’ve spoken again.”

“Plenty of couples get together in weirder ways.”

Warmth kicked at the “c” word, and she looked away across the lake, not wanting him to see how much it mattered, how deep she was already into him. “Fair enough.”

He caught her free hand, so they were sitting with their knees touching, their hands linked. “Just give us a chance, Nina. Let me prove that I’m willing to put in the effort this time. That’s all I’m asking. Just give us a chance.”

His low, intense tone brought her eyes back to his, and in him she saw the man she’d met that first night—not just handsome, but also a really good guy, and one who made her feel like she was important, cherished. But she saw more than that now, too—she saw the cowboy that part of him wanted to be, the guy who was still figuring himself out and making himself better, even though he had been pretty great to begin with.

She didn’t know everything about him, not by a longshot, but she knew enough to believe that he was going to try harder this time.

“Yes,” she said, swallowing a sudden giddy laugh. “Okay, yes.”

His teeth flashed, and he gave a low, fervent “Yee-haw,” and pulled her into his arms.

As she burrowed into his warmth, his strength, a noise from the far side of the lake prickled the hair on the back of her neck and brought her eyes around. Picturing bears, wolves, and everything else furry and fanged, she tightened her grip on him. “Is that— Oh, look!”