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“I’m gonna check on Val,” said Bree, interrupting Kirk’s thoughts.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll join you after I think through a few jigsaw pieces.”
Ignoring her questioning look before she exited, he rubbed his eyes. He had a lot on his plate today.
First, he needed to get gas.
Second, he needed to get back to Denver.
Third, he needed to contact George, ask him to give Bree and Val a ride to Chugwater. He’d call George now, but knew George and his family did their shopping on Saturday mornings, so Kirk would wait to phone.
Then there was the dreaded rehearsal dinner at Alicia’s family’s tony Cherry Creek estate. Monkey suits and small talk. Had Alicia said four or five o’clock? Well, one of those times should work. The family never expected Kirk to be punctual, blaming his absentmindedness on his being a scientist. Whether he was late, lost or just plain forgetful, they cooed and excused the “famous scientist.”
He dragged himself off the sofa and staggered into the bathroom where he splashed cold water on his face. Somehow, in the midst of today’s activities, he needed also to check the I-25 excavation site. He sensed he was close to unearthing some rare fossils there. Plus he’d accidentally dug up that strange, exotic engraved stone last week…very unusual, at least two thousand years old. He couldn’t wait to show it to George.
“Hey!” Bree yelled from outside the bathroom. “You comin’ out, or are you gonna primp in there all day?”
He grinned. Kirk, primp? Sounded like something he’d say to Alicia.
A few minutes later, he walked around the back of the lodge to where Val was tethered to a pine tree. The animal had a cozy spot, hidden from prying eyes, between Bree’s lodge room and the back of the forest. Plus Val had plenty of grass and brush to munch on.
Bree was scratching Val’s head, which looked as big as Bree’s whole torso, while she talked to the animal.
“It’s gonna be okay, Hot Stuff. You ’n’ me, we’re gonna get back home today. Maybe I didn’t get to Europe, but that’ll come in time.” She rubbed the bull’s back. “After what you’ve been through, we need to get you home where you can eat all the oats and grass you want in Mr. Connors’s field. Meanwhile, I’ll contact Bovine Best, clear up any confusion over the ’implied contract’ fracas, see if they’re still interested in purchasing you…” She sniffed.
Bree, crying?
Kirk stood, unsure what to do. Should he leave? Let her spend a few moments alone with her animal?
But just as he half turned to go, Bree said sweetly, “Mornin’.”
He turned back. “Good morning.” He observed how the sunlight played tricks with her hair, highlighting strands of gold and maroon in those rich brown curls. Just like Bree, he thought, seeming so solid and strong on the outside, yet inside, harboring such sweet, tender secrets.
“Val, lookee who’s visiting. Our hero, Kirk,” she said in that velvety tone that twisted Kirk’s heart. “Remember how he picked us up last night? Thanks to him, you had this safe, comfortable spot to sleep…and I had a safe, comfortable bed. Come on, let’s say ‘thank you’ to this nice man.”
“Oh, that’s quite all right,” Kirk said, holding up both hands.
But Bree just giggled, a fun, girlish sound that sent a crazy thrill zigzagging through him. “Come on,” she coaxed, “let Val thank you.” She crooked her finger at Kirk in a come-here gesture, those dimples in her cheeks turning him to putty.
He stepped forward, ready to do her bidding.
“Scratch him here,” Bree said softly, taking Kirk’s hand and placing it on a section of coarse fur between Val’s horns.
Kirk tried to concentrate on the scratching, but he was far more aware of the warmth and softness of Bree’s hands. And her fingers. So long, they didn’t just interlace with his fingers, they coiled around them. Even better, he liked how their fingers moved in tandem. So natural, as though they’d done this a hundred times before.
For the next few minutes, he and Bree stood side by side, scratching and stroking Val’s head. Feeling and stroking each other’s hands, accidentally of course.
After a few minutes of bull-loving, Kirk turned to Bree. “I told Alicia I’d call her this morning, let her know when I expected to be in—”
“She must be worried about you, running out of gas ’n’ all.”
“Actually, Alicia doesn’t worry about things like that.” She worried if Kirk would be late. Or not dressed properly. Or had lost his way.
Bree looked at Kirk, her eyes filled with something he couldn’t decipher.
He meant to turn and go, but he wanted a few more moments to see what sunlight did to Bree’s hair, how her skin glowed in the fresh air, the way her lips curved when she spoke. And if he was lucky, maybe he’d get another flash of those killer dimples.
They stood so close, he could almost sense her heat, almost hear her beating heart. And he ached to know how it would feel to take her into his arms, hold her close, mold her body to his…
Something nudged him from behind.
He looked over his shoulder at Val’s massive head, rubbing against his back.
“He likes you,” said Bree.
“Maybe he does, but I’m worried about those horns of his…”
Bree giggled. “Trust me. He wouldn’t hurt you with those. He’s just nudging you with his nose, checking you out.”
“Gotta call Alicia,” Kirk said quickly, backing off. He didn’t mind scratching a bull, but being nudged by one was a far different matter. Even Tarl Cabot would agree, Kirk was sure of it.
A few minutes later, Bree walked back into her room to find Kirk on the phone. It occurred to her he could have used the phone in his room, but no big deal. Nobody in Chugwater locked their doors, so people were always coming in and out of each other’s houses…finding Kirk here was almost like being home.
And for a moment, she missed being home. Home, the very place she swore she was so anxious to escape. How many times had she said she wanted to split Chugwater and see the big world? Yet sometimes…at crazy moments like this…she couldn’t help but wonder again if fulfilling one’s dreams was worth losing one’s roots.
“Yes, dear, I’ll call you from the gas station so you’ll know when I’m leaving,” Kirk said. “No, I won’t be late.”
Wow. Does his fiancée always need to know his every move? Maybe most married people were like that. Just another reason why Bree had zero desire to settle down. She wanted the free life, no constraints, not having to answer to anyone.
“What?” Kirk suddenly said, straightening. “Oh, no.” He dropped his head in his hand. “Poor Robbie. What happened?” Pause. “Broke his what?” Pause. “That’s called a femur, not a female bone. Alicia, stop fretting. So my best man is holed up in an L.A. hospital and can’t make the wedding. Worse things in the world have happened. What’s important is that Robbie is okay.” He looked up at Bree. “Look, I need to go.” Pause. “Me, too. Yes, dear.” He hung up.
“Sorry to hear about your best man,” said Bree.
“Broke his leg doing some fool stunt at a Raiders game.” Kirk looked at Bree. “Thanks for your good wishes. I suppose Alicia feels bad about Robbie’s health, too, but she’s more concerned with the wedding plans…” His voice trailed off.
“Well,” said Bree, trying to alleviate the gloom that had suddenly settled over the room. “It’s almost nine. If we get gas now, we can get to Denver by ten or eleven, then you said your friend George can help Val and me get to Chugwater—which means we’ll be out of your hair and you can proceed to do all that fun getting-married stuff!”
Kirk stood, giving her a look that seemed almost sad.
“No need to check if the coast is clear,” he finally said. “Even if someone sees us walking a bull, they’ll just think they’re having a sixties flashback.”
“But it’s the twenty-first century.”
“Not in Nederland. Here, the sixties live eternal. Let me get my keys…”
He pulled them out of his shirt pocket. “Let me check how much cash I have for gas…” He patted his back jeans pocket. “Funny, my wallet’s missing…” He looked around the room. “See it anywhere?”
Bree jerked her gaze out the window, fighting a rush of dread. “Val,” she whispered.
“What?” said Kirk.
“Val was nudging you.”
“Yes. And?”
“And…” Bree swallowed, hard. “He may have nudged things out of your pocket and…”
“And…what?”
“And…snacked on them.”
Kirk stared at her, realization dawning in his eyes. “You mean…your bull…might have eaten what was in my back pocket?” Kirk shook his head slowly, back and forth. “My wallet, my credit cards, my cash…”
Bree blinked rapidly. “I’m sorry. Really, really, sorry.”
Kirk held up a hand, palm out. “Let’s look at the problem, put together the pieces.” He stared into the distance for a moment. “We can coast into town because the road is downhill into Nederland, but I’ll have to call Alicia and ask her to wire money or maybe contact one of her wealthy friends in the area who can give us a loan…”
“Sounds like a plan,” Bree said encouragingly.
“Yes, a plan that includes Alicia getting royally…” He groaned again. “If Alicia finds out I spent the night with…” He flashed Bree a look.
“Are you upset because Alicia will think we slept together?”
He nodded.
“So it’s in your better interest if we can get money without Alicia knowing,” said Bree. She mulled it over for a moment. “Would thirty, maybe forty dollars be enough to fill that gas tank?”
“To get to Denver, we could maybe do it on fifteen, twenty.”
“Great!” Bree’s eyes twinkled. “I have the solution!” She rolled back her shoulders, a big proud smile creasing her face. “We’ll coast into town, find a bar and…”
Kirk waited. “And…what?”
Bree grinned gleefully. “I’ll strip!”
5
“STRIP?”
It was the first word Kirk had said after his and Bree’s trek, with Val in tow, down the road from the Sundance Lodge to where they’d left the van the night before. He hadn’t talked the entire time, not even as they helped Val into the back of the van. But now that he and Bree were again sitting in the front seat, about to coast into Nederland, he was ready again to broach the subject of stripping.
“Yes, strip,” Bree said sweetly, as though she were talking about butterflies fluttering about flowers and not naked bodies gyrating on tabletops. “Heck, my best girlfriend did it in a coffee shop outside Butte, Montana, last summer and made a fast twenty dollars…enough to buy a bus ticket home.”
“Coffee shop? I thought places like that served coffee and doughnuts, not naked bodies.”
Naked. He shouldn’t have gone there. His mind started reeling with the sneak peek he’d gotten through those overstretched, ultrasheer pink undies.
Bree made an exasperated sound. “You know, being naked is not a big deal, not to a country girl anyway. When you think about it, we all strip every single night of our lives. So, that’s all I’m going to do. Strip like I would for bed. Well, with a little dancing thrown in.”
“Stripping,” he said, his voice cracking, “is a…sexual act.”
“Sexual?” She mulled that over. “Yeah, under the right circumstances, you’re correct. But nobody’s going to touch me. Well, except to shove money down my—”
“This conversation is officially over.” Kirk thrust the gearshift into neutral. Avoiding eye contact with Bree, he more or less announced to Val, whose head hung partially over the front seat, “I’m going to jump out, get this baby rolling, then we’ll coast into Nederland and figure out…”
Hell, he didn’t know what to figure out. He had a wanna-be stripper, a buddy bull and a de-gassed van on his hands and no time to properly disassemble and analyze this problem to see the big picture.
This was a Tarl Cabot moment. Time for action, not thoughts and words.
He opened his door, hopped out, and holding onto the door, jogged a few feet to give the van some momentum. As the vehicle began rolling downhill, Kirk leaped back inside, slammed shut his door, and held the thought that at least the humans in the van were still clothed, for the time being…
Ten minutes later, after a very silent ride downhill on the narrow mountain highway 119, the van slowly coasted into a gas station in Nederland.
Kirk glided across the asphalt to a phone booth and stepped on the brakes. The van stopped. There was no way they’d start again without a tow truck or gasoline…and at the moment, he had no means to obtain either.
“Well,” he said, shoving the gear into Park, “time to call the princess.” He started to open his door when Bree grabbed his arm.
“Look,” she said, not sure exactly what to say, but his calling Alicia didn’t seem the better of any options. “Let’s talk for just a minute, okay?”
Kirk shot her a glum look. “One minute.”
“Remember last night when I walked in front of you in my undies and T-shirt?”
He made a strangled sound, his face turning a ruddy color.
“Well,” continued Bree, talking faster, not wanting to waste even a second of her minute. “That’s more than I wear when I go swimming at Mr. Connors’s lake.”
Kirk made another strangled sound.
“I’m not hung up on being natural.”
“Stripping isn’t natural,” he said in a strained voice.
“It isn’t? Then what do you call it when you take off your clothes at night?”
He cleared his throat. “We’ve already had this discussion.”
“Humor me. What do you call it?”
“I call it taking off my clothes.”
“Same thing.”
Kirk released a tormented breath. “No, it’s not. When I take off my clothes at night, I don’t do it to entice women.”
“Not even Alicia?”
He shot Bree a look. “That’s personal, but for the sake of argument, I don’t strip to entice my fiancée.”
