Kitabı oku: «Rich, Rugged Ranchers», sayfa 15

He grabbed her hand, but didn’t pull it away from his chest. Maybe those beers had hit him harder than he thought, because he was having trouble keeping up with her. She was mad at him, that he got. But what she was mad about seemed to change with every other breath that escaped her parted, reddened lips. “I never said whore. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“You didn’t have to. Your meaning was perfectly clear. Well, in case it’s not blisteringly obvious, I’m no one’s whore. Not Levinson’s, not yours. I don’t sleep with people to get the job done, so if that’s what you’re holding out for, you can keep on holding.”

What the heck was she talking about? He wasn’t angling for a roll in the sack—was that what she thought? He knew he should back away, disengage. He didn’t. “I’m supposed to believe that, after you all but throw a casting couch at Hoss?”

“That. Was. A. Joke.” Her eyes flashed in the dim neon light of the bar signs as she gave him another shove. “Or did you abandon your sense of humor in L.A. along with your life?”

They were close now, so close that he felt the warmth of her breath fan out around his face. He still had her hand pinned to his chest. For some reason, he wanted to smile. This was an argument, no doubt about it—but something about it felt real. Honest. Thalia was furious, true, but it felt good to have things out in the open. No pussyfooting around what she wanted, or who he used to be. Their differences were front and center.

“Why are you mad at me?” If they were being honest, then he was going to have to own up to his cluelessness.

“Because you don’t seem to understand how your actions—grabbing a woman and questioning her reputation, brawling in a bar—can get away from you. If you did either of those things in my world, J.R., you’d wind up on the evening news, and if you think I’m a pain in your—” she paused and swallowed. She was doing that thing again, where she blushed without seeming to acknowledge her embarrassment “—neck, then you can’t imagine how hard the paparazzi will make your life, your family’s life.”

“You being here makes it hard on me.”

Everything about her changed in the space of two heartbeats. The fire in her eyes simmered down to a warm glow. Anytime she wanted to stop looking sweet and beautiful would be great. “I know. That’s what I was going to apologize for.” Her voice was soft, inviting.

The space between them thinned, and he briefly thought she might be the one to start the kissing. She wanted to—he thought. Then the door of the bar opened, and noise—and a few bodies—poured out.

When she stepped away, he had no choice but to let her go.

Without another word, she turned back to her car. “Hey.” He jogged after her—as much as one jogged in boots, anyway. “You’re still staying at Lloyd’s, right?” Being the smallest of towns, every resident of Beaverhead probably knew the sexy out-of-towner was holed up at Lloyd’s. Including Dorsey.

She paused, her hand on the door handle. “J.R., I …” Her voice trailed off, taking whatever she was going to say with it. Then, she got in and drove off.

Six

The truck—J.R.’s truck—was still out there. It was dark, so Thalia wasn’t one hundred percent sure that it was actually him, but something told her he’d followed her back to Lloyd’s.

What the heck was she supposed to do about this? J.R. had all but accused her of stalking him—somewhat rightly—and now he was staking her out? Was this normal?

No, there was nothing normal about anything this evening. Not the part where she slapped him, not the part where he nearly strangled a guy for touching her and not the moment of blistering honesty in the parking lot. Not a normal event in the bunch.

So the better question was: Was this dangerous? She’d pushed J.R. further than she’d meant to, and every one of her attempts to negotiate with him backfired on her in one way or another. Despite how much she irritated J.R.—which she knew was a lot—and despite how much he was driving her bonkers—an almost equal amount—she didn’t think he was a physical threat to her.

She wasn’t going to be able to sleep, much less take a hot shower, knowing he was out there without knowing why. And she was not about to go back outside and ask him.

When her cell rang, she jumped so hard she almost tore down the drapery she was hiding behind. She didn’t recognize the number, but she thought it was a Montana area code. “Hello?”

“Thalia? This is Minnie Red Horse. Have you seen J.R.?”

Thalia let out a rush of air. “Yes. I went to apologize at the local bar.”

After a momentary pause, Minnie said, “Oh. Do you have any idea when he’ll be home? He’s not answering his phone, and Denny says he left with you.”

Thalia winced. They’d left at the same time, which was entirely different than leaving together. “He’s not with me now, but I could try calling him for you.” That way she could figure out if he was the one watching her window or not.

“Thank you, dear.” Minnie gave her the number and they hung up.

Thalia looked at her phone. This wasn’t about the part or the movie anymore. This felt like the point of no return. She could go one way or the other. She could call him, or she could ignore the truck outside.

She dialed. She couldn’t see any movement in the truck, but then he picked up. “Hello?”

“Are you following me?”

In response, the overhead light in the truck flipped on, and she saw J.R. in profile. “I’m not so much following you as keeping an eye on you.” He cleared his throat. “Are you up there?”

She turned on the small bedside lamp. It wasn’t a lot of light, but it was enough that he could at least see her in profile. Luckily, the flannel pajamas she’d bought at J.C. Penney didn’t lend themselves to being see-through. “Is there a difference between following me and keeping an eye on me? Because if there is, I’m not seeing it.”

“Everyone in town probably knows where you’re at, and Dog isn’t the kind of man to let something go—not until he’s sobered up.” He paused, and she wished she could see his eyes. “I’m making sure he doesn’t come back to prove his point.”

“Oh.” That was a pretty good reason. She might have conflicting feelings about J.R., but she definitely didn’t want to see that brute again. Ever.

That begged another question. “Why do you care? I mean, I’ve been nothing but trouble for you. You could hang me out to dry.”

He snorted. “I see nothing’s changed about Hollywood.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just because you trespass on my property and flirt with my best friend and attract all the wrong kinds of attention at my bar doesn’t mean I’d stand by and let anything happen to you. A real man makes sure a lady is safe.”

Part of Thalia melted. Maybe it was because she’d been hung out to dry on more than one occasion. After all, Levinson had let her take all of the fall for their failed affair, and she’d once fancied that he loved her. As incredible as it seemed now, she’d once fancied that she’d loved him. Just another example of letting her emotions get in the way of business.

This was different. Knowing—and believing—that J.R. would defend her instead of throwing her to the wolves was a gift in and of itself. That he thought of her as a lady, despite how wrong things had gone? Melt.

But as one part of her melted, another part of her wanted to throw things at him. “What is it with you? Okay, so I wasn’t invited the first time. It’s not like I cut a lock and snuck into your house. Minnie invited me back the second time. And I’m not flirting with Hoss. He’s a nice man and all, but I’m not interested in him. Ugh. It would be like kissing my brother. And I can’t help it if this town is populated with Neanderthals.”

She expected him to come back with the myriad of ways this whole thing was all her fault, but he didn’t say anything. The silence stretched between them, and she found herself wondering if he was done talking or what.

“That happen a lot?” was what he finally said, startling her.

“Which part?”

“Getting hung out to dry? Or what is it they say now? Thrown in front of the bus?”

“Thrown under the bus.” She smiled at him, not that he could see it. Who would have guessed that the man who was once the physical embodiment of cool couldn’t even handle a catchphrase?

“Yeah. That. The Hollywood I used to know was every man—and woman—for themselves. That ever happen to you?”

She exhaled, fogging up the window. Levinson had not only thrown her under the bus, but he’d backed it up over her a few times for good measure. She didn’t want to tell J.R. that. He had obviously already formed an opinion of her. He hated Levinson, and with good reason. If she told J.R. how Levinson had all but tied her to the bumper of the bus, it would destroy what little respect he had for her. “It’s Hollywood. Nothing I can’t handle.” She heard J.R. chuckle. “What?”

“I’m going to take that as a yes. How long you been there?”

She didn’t like this, not one bit. Despite the physical distance between them, it felt like he was not only digging into her past, but getting close to striking pay dirt. It made her nervous, like she was giving something up.

How long had it been since someone had asked her these basic questions? A long time. After the affair with Levinson had blown up in her face, she’d retreated into herself. People—men—didn’t ask where she was from. Was that because they were a self-absorbed lot? Or because she never gave anyone the chance to get past that first wall?

“Must be doing some hard thinking up there,” J.R. mused into the silence. “Or did you forget? Hollywood can do that, you know.”

“I’ve been there ten years. I haven’t forgotten.”

“Ah, now. And you can’t be much over …” She could only wonder what age he was going to say. “Well, I guess you went out when you were a teenager.”

She could picture the grin on his face—small, hidden beneath the beard—but at heart, the same grin that he’d had on in all those posters she’d taped up in her room when she was a teenager. Somehow, back when she’d envisioned meeting James Robert Bradley, this particular scenario never played out in her head—him making guesses on how old she was.

He’d probably keep dancing around it until she told him. This was one of the few plusses of not being an actress. Her age wasn’t an immediate disqualifier. “I turned thirty in September, if that’s what you wanted to know.”

“Hmm.” The sound he made—closer to a purr than a thoughtful observation—sent little sparks of electricity racing up and down the skin on the back of her hand. “That’s not old.”

She wouldn’t let that count as flattery. “Boy, you have been gone a long time. I’m all but a dinosaur these days.”

“Wonder what that makes me? No, don’t answer that.”

Not that she was going to, because then she’d have to tell him that he was clearly one of those men who only got better with age, like Cary Grant or Gregory Peck. And then she’d get all swoony again, and every time she did that, she managed to stick her foot in her mouth. “It’s different,” he went on, missing her awkward silence. “You’ve only been there for ten years. I was there for … twenty-one years.”

“Really?” It seemed like a long time—but also not quite long enough. “I always kind of thought you were born there.”

“Nope. St. Louis. My mother had me doing commercials when I was a baby.” His voice seemed to grow softer. She couldn’t tell if he was holding the phone away from his mouth or getting all sentimental. “We moved to Hollywood when I was four.”

“You were so young.”

“Oh, yeah.” He exhaled into the phone. “You know what I wanted to be when I grew up?”

“No.” She didn’t know where he was going with this trip down memory lane. If she had to describe this current exchange, she’d have to call it chitchat, the conversation of two friends. It bordered on sharing, and she was afraid she didn’t want the conversation to end.

“A firefighter, an astronaut and a cowboy. Oh, and an army man.” He paused, and when he spoke again, she could hear the nostalgia in his voice. “I went back to St. Louis once, after I came out here. Didn’t recognize anything. Not even the house I grew up in.” He cleared his throat. “That was a long time ago.”

“You didn’t want to be an actor?”

“It’s what my mother wanted.”

“You were good at it.” Obviously. They didn’t usually give Oscars out of pity.

“It was never my choice, Thalia.”

The weight of those words tried to cave in her chest. Gone was the nostalgic tone, the sentimental-sounding sighs. Heck, he didn’t even sound like he’d been drinking. He was dead serious.

She felt so, so guilty, an emotion that she’d gotten used to pretending she didn’t experience. She’d asked him to take the part, and he’d said no. Instead of respecting that choice, she had kept coming at him. And what made it worse was that he’d been right about the bar fight. He hadn’t been sued for loutish behavior yet. He was, relatively speaking, safe out here. She was the one who could expose him. If people came looking for him, it would be because of her. If he went viral, it would all trace back to the day she landed in Montana.

But to show guilt was to show weakness, and no matter how personal this conversation seemed, she wouldn’t grovel. So she tried to deflect. “A cowboy, huh?”

“Yup.”

He didn’t come up with another wild tangent. For the life of her, she couldn’t read his mind. The silence started to bug her. Maybe she couldn’t bring herself to apologize for not honoring his choice, but she still owed him something. “I’m sorry I slapped you earlier. You were right, that was uncalled for.”

“It’s okay. I crossed a line I shouldn’t have. My apologies for that. It’s just …”

When his voice trailed off, Thalia found herself leaning into the window, hoping to hear what he had to say. A story below her, she saw J.R. shift in his seat, leaning forward until he was looking up at her. She couldn’t see his eyes, darn it, but she still felt a connection with him as clearly as if she was sitting across the table from him.

“Minnie’s probably worried about me.” He leaned back, his whole face disappearing into the cab of his truck.

“Yeah.” Right—she was supposed to tell him that exact thing. “You should probably get home.”

The dome light flipped off, and she thought he’d hung up on her. Then she heard him say, “I won’t let anyone bother you, Thalia.”

She pressed her hand to the window again, wishing she could touch him, wishing she could feel his strong hand cover hers again. “I know, J.R.”

The call ended. Thalia turned out the light, but she stood at the window for a few more moments, knowing he would keep her safe.

The odd thing was, she wanted to do the same for him—to protect him. To make sure that he didn’t wind up as fodder for the paparazzi.

This was all backward. There was no such thing as bad PR, after all. J.R. making a few headlines would add a big boost to the movie’s bottom line.

Standing there in the dark, watching his truck, she knew she couldn’t do it. She wasn’t the kind of person who let someone destroy themselves for a strong opening weekend.

She wouldn’t do that to him.

“I don’t like this wind.” Hoss tucked his chin into his coat as they headed back to the ranch house after another grueling afternoon of breaking ice. “Nope. Don’t like it at all.”

“What?” J.R. tried to focus on what Hoss was saying, but it wasn’t easy. He was cold—nothing new there. But the cold on top of the bone-deep exhaustion made doing much of anything hard. Hell, a few fields over, he’d lost the grip on his ax midswing and nearly decapitated his best friend.

Hoss snorted. “What time did you get home last night?”

J.R. groaned. Hoss already knew the answer—three-thirty. “Late enough.”

“Well, I don’t like this wind.”

J.R. sat up in the saddle, paying a little more attention to the weather. The wind cut down out of the north with bitter speed, but the air felt heavy. “Snow?”

“Snow,” Hoss agreed, burrowing deeper into his coat. “Lots of it. And soon.”

“How soon?” Mentally, he slapped his head. If he’d been aware of his surroundings, he’d have started moving some cattle into the more sheltered fields. Maybe it wouldn’t hit for another day or two. Maybe they’d have time.

“Weather says tomorrow night.” Hoss tipped his hat back and sniffed the air. “If we’re lucky.”

Damn it. “Better check the generators when we get back.” The ranch house was well equipped to handle a blizzard. The fireplaces in each room kept the house warmish on their own, but after the first blizzard, J.R. had invested in several superpowered generators for the house and the barn. They had snowshoes, snowmobiles and enough food to last them a month.

He had a ton of books, and Minnie was fond of Scrabble. Plus, they needed the snow to hedge their bets against a dry summer. In all reality, snow was not a bad thing.

That didn’t mean J.R. had to like it.

He liked it a whole lot less when he and Hoss crested the last hill and saw Thalia’s rental car in front of his house again. “Oh, no.”

“What is she doing out here?” Hoss asked. The fact that Hoss hadn’t grabbed this opportunity to tease J.R. showed how worried his best friend was about the weather. “Don’t she know it’s going to snow?”

“City folk,” J.R. grumbled, pushing his horse on as much as he dared in this wind.

The weather took a lousy situation and made it downright dangerous. Bad enough that Thalia felt free to drop by any old time she felt like it; worse that her presence had led to him being banned from his favorite bar for the rest of the winter. All of that was inconvenient, annoying.

But to have someone who had been so demonstrably unaware of the weather driving in blizzard conditions—hell, even a regular heavy snow—was a recipe for disaster. People died in this kind of weather. They drove off the road or got hit by a plow. Or they got disorientated and froze to death a few feet from their house.

A golden, sunshine woman like Thalia wouldn’t stand a chance against a Montana blizzard. He didn’t have a doubt in his mind about that. And he knew, even though she drove him well past the point of distraction, that he’d do whatever he could to keep her safe.

He didn’t know what that whatever would mean.

He and Hoss got the horses fed and blanketed before they hurried inside. J.R. couldn’t say that he was exactly happy to see Thalia, not under the circumstances. When she turned her pretty face to him, and he watched her eyes light up because she was glad to see him, well, damn. He was glad to see her, too.

“Before you say anything,” she began without any further ado, “I’m not here about the part.”

The effect this statement had on him was unexpected. Maybe he’d gotten a little too cold out in that wind, but a weird, light-headed feeling made his scalp tingle. “Oh?”

“Everything okay?” Hoss stepped around J.R., wrapping one of his arms around Thalia’s shoulder and giving her an awkward squeeze. Thalia gave J.R. a look and a half smile, and he heard her voice say, “It would be like kissing my brother.” The tingly feeling got a little stronger.

“Yes, it’s fine.” Thalia straightened, and Hoss’s arm fell away. “I came to say goodbye.”

Minnie made a noise, and for the first time, J.R. noticed her. She looked like she’d been crying, or something close to it—watery eyes, red nose she kept wiping with a tissue. Thalia turned and patted Minnie on the arm, like she was trying to comfort her.

What the heck was going on?

“You sure about that?” Hoss was looking worried now, too, which only made the feeling that J.R. was missing something important get even stronger.

“It’ll be okay.” Thalia smiled at Hoss, but J.R. could see that it didn’t reach her eyes. She was lying—about what?

“Anytime you’re out this way, you stop by,” Minnie said with a hug. “It’s been a pleasure having you out here.” Then she patted Thalia’s cheek. “I know it’s hard to see now, but it’ll work out. I believe that.”

The way Minnie—and Hoss—were talking was almost like they were trying to get Thalia to stay. And here J.R. had been trying to get rid of her for days.

He didn’t know what was going on, but he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted her to leave. Only because of the weather, he quickly told himself.

Thalia’s smile was more real this time. “I know. If I get any extra seats to an awards show, I’ll call you and you can see all those dresses in person.”

Instead of acting like a kid on Christmas morning, like J.R. would have expected, Minnie sniffled again. “That’d be wonderful, dear, but call your mother first.”

“Yeah, don’t let the turkeys get you down,” Hoss added, throwing his arm around her shoulder again. “You’ll call me if you find a good casting couch, right?”

“If something comes up, you’re at the top of my list.”

Then Hoss and Minnie stepped back, and it was just Thalia and J.R. “So you’re going back to California.”

“Yes.” She was lying again. He could tell by the way her eyes didn’t move. She took a step toward him, her hand extended. “J.R., it has been a true pleasure meeting you.”

Something about this goodbye felt so final. He didn’t like it, and he didn’t like that he didn’t like it. He’d wanted her to go. He’d told her so in no uncertain terms. And yet … “Likewise.” He took her hand in his and held it. The heat that coursed through her warmed him down to his toes. This was less erotic than when she’d touched his face, but no less dizzying. He would have sworn the room was spinning.

Don’t go, he almost said. Before he could force the words out, she pulled her hand back and said, “And you don’t have to worry. I won’t tell Levinson where you are.”

“You won’t?” It was like he understood each individual word, but strung together, they didn’t make any sense.

“No.” She lowered her eyes, but looked at him through her thick lashes. “I won’t let anyone bother you.”

The room—hell, the world—spun even faster, so much so that J.R. had to put his hand on the countertop to steady himself. No one—other than Minnie and Hoss—had ever promised to protect him. And neither of them ever looked at J.R. like Thalia did.

Then she grinned and the tension broke. “Of course, I’m not your agent, so …”

“Yeah.” J.R. had to clear his throat. “I’m gonna fire that man.”

“Be sure to sign him to a nondisclosure agreement first. That way, if he ever tells anyone else, you can sue him.”

“Oh, okay.” Actually, that was a good idea. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? Probably because he’d never done anything with contracts beyond sign them. His mother had always negotiated everything. J.R. had never figured out if she’d gotten what she’d wanted.

They stood there for a moment. She needed to leave—the weather wasn’t going to wait on her—but he couldn’t quite bring himself to be the one to say goodbye first.

“Thalia—” he began, but the shrill siren of the emergency weather radio cut him off. Everyone jumped at the sound.

Seconds later, the nasal voice of the weather guy came on. “The following is from the National Weather Service. The following counties are under a blizzard warning as of 4:00 p.m….”

“Is that here?” Thalia looked at the clock on the stove. Three-fifteen. “I should go. I’m supposed to catch a flight out of Billings tonight.”

“You won’t make it.” That seemed like a simple fact, but the look Thalia shot him made it clear that she took it as a personal attack on her driving skills.

“I’m perfectly capable—” This time, she was cut off by the phone ringing.

Minnie answered it while Thalia glared at him. Maybe he should get her to sign one of those nondisclosure things—just in case.

“Yes, she’s here. Yes, we heard.” Minnie’s forehead was so knotted up with worry that her brows were in danger of swapping places. “No, that’s okay. You go on. We’ll take care of her.” She hung up and looked at J.R. “That was Lloyd. He wants to go stay with his daughter—she’s got a generator.” Her gaze pleaded with J.R. He could almost hear her saying, Don’t put that woman out in this weather. She won’t make it. “He said he’d leave the key in the mailbox if we needed it.”

Minnie was right. In that moment, the path forward became crystal clear. “Thalia, you’ll stay here with us.”

“I’m leaving. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“You will stay.” Thalia’s mouth opened, no doubt with a snappy comeback at the ready, but when he added, “As my guest,” she closed it again, looking a little off balance. How nice that J.R. wasn’t the only one who felt like that.

“All of my things are at Lloyd’s. I was going to swing by on my way out of town.”

Women, J.R. thought. If he were the one leaving town, he’d have that car packed up, first thing. “Minnie’s got stuff you can wear.”

“No.” Thalia’s tone was insistent. “I have things I need.” He saw her swallow. “Prescriptions I have to take.”

Damn.

“I’ll go get my things. I’ll come right back.”

The weather siren went off again. J.R., Hoss and Minnie shared a look. Thalia didn’t have two hours. “Fine. Get your coat. I’ll drive you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I do. I have four-wheel drive.” Thalia probably only saw off-road vehicles stuck in traffic, but his Jeep could handle anything below two-foot drifts. If he drove real fast, they’d make it fine. He hoped.

“But—”

“No buts. Either I drive or you don’t get your things.” He turned to go. “I’ll bring the Jeep up.”

“I’ll have a bag ready for you in a second.” Minnie was pulling muffins and granola bars out. “Just in case.”

“You know where the rope is?” Hoss asked.

“Yeah. You see to the generators.” J.R. looked at Thalia, who seemed confused. City folk, he thought. “Get your coat. I’ll pull up in front.”

At least this time, she didn’t argue with him—with any of them. J.R. walked through the gale-force wind, grabbed the bundle of nylon rope and fired up the Jeep. He bought a new one every three years—life out here was hard on vehicles.

The moment he pulled around to the front, Thalia and Minnie hurried out the front door. Thalia slid into the passenger seat. Minnie shoved a full bag, no doubt packed with energy foods and bottled water, and a bundle of blankets into the backseat and flat-out ran for the house without another word.

Just in case, Minnie had said.

Just in case they got stuck in a snowdrift.