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“But they don’t work in Sunshine Gap.”
Jake nodded. “Yeah. They’re not practical or even modest. Everything you wear is missing a strategic hunk or two of material. There’re guys all over town nursing sore necks from trying to get a better look at your…assets.”
“Oh, really, you’re exaggerating.” At least she thought he was. It was the middle of July for heaven’s sake. Everybody peeled down a bit when the weather was hot.
“The hookers in Cheyenne and Denver wear more on a work day than you do. Your stuff is too damn sexy.”
“Women aren’t supposed to be sexy in Sunshine Gap?”
“I didn’t say that.” Muttering a rude word, he jammed his right hand through his hair. “Look, it’s not personal. The thing is, if I wanted a woman in my life now, I’d be lookin’ for an old-fashioned Wyoming gal with ranching in her blood.”
Well, that certainly left her out, didn’t it? But it didn’t have to.
“Blair learned how to do all that stuff. If she can do it, so can I. You could teach me.”
“No way.” He held up both hands and stepped back, shaking his head. “I’m workin’ on important plans for my future. I don’t have time to play with a flaky little California floozy who writes raunchy books, causes scandals and looks like she came out of a can of spray paint half the time.”
Time stopped long enough to imprint every humiliating detail of Jake’s critical assessment of her into Hope’s permanent memory banks. The backs of her eyes stung, her throat closed around a golf-ball-sized lump and her chest ached as if he’d punched her just under her sternum. After three months of seeing her every day and working with her on this wedding how could he still think so little of her?
And how could she have been so wrong about him?
Automatically falling back on Rule Number Two, Hope plastered an amused smile onto her mouth. “My, my my,” she drawled. “Been reading the tabloids, Jake?”
His face flushed, but he didn’t look away. “You’re news, Hope. All the magazines and newspapers have stories about you.”
“You believe everything you read?”
“Not everything.” His tone told her he believed all but the most outrageous stories. “But you’ve gotta admit you have one colorful image.”
“Of course, I admit it,” she said calmly. “I’ve worked hard to build it.”
He frowned as if he’d never entertained the idea a celebrity might deliberately develop a certain kind of image. “I only wanted to point out our differences. I didn’t mean to offend—”
“Don’t apologize for being honest. There’s far too little honesty in this world. And since we’re being so honest, I have to say I’m terribly disappointed in you.”
“Come on—”
Hope slashed at the air like a conductor halting an orchestra. “Save it, McBride. I’ve clearly misjudged you.”
Frowning, he asked warily, “What do you mean?”
“I thought you were more than just a handsome face. Obviously, I was wrong.”
“Wait a minute,” he protested.
“You had your turn. Now it’s mine,” she retorted. “I may be a flaky California floozy, but you’re a shallow, narrow-minded idiot who can’t see past the end of your own nose.”
“Hey—”
Hope continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “You don’t have the faintest clue what you’re passing up, but someday you will. And when you do, you’re going to be one sad and sorry cowboy.”
Before Jake could even begin to think up a reply, Hope stepped down from the fence and headed back toward the party. Holding herself straight and tall as a queen, she crossed the barnyard with a smooth, unhurried stride. He watched until she rounded the corner of the house, then returned his attention to the horses, feeling a mixture of relief and regret.
He hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings, but she hadn’t been listening to him, just brushing aside his arguments as fast as he’d made them. After all of that, any man in his right mind would’ve gotten desperate, but he’d gone too far and said too much. He was sorry as hell about that. She’d gotten in some good licks of her own, though.
He almost had to smile at the idea of Hope DuMaine calling him shallow. Brother. Talk about your pots and kettles.
Still, he’d stop by the guesthouse tomorrow and apologize. He didn’t want to cause Dillon any problems with Blair’s family. He didn’t want to cause himself any problems with his own family, either. They all really liked Hope. When she wasn’t pestering the hell out of him, so did he.
But dammit, tonight was all his fault. What had possessed him to kiss her like that? And why had he done it in front of everybody?
He’d love to blame it on the alcohol he’d consumed, but he hadn’t had that much to drink. And he’d been tired, but not that tired. Well, it didn’t matter. It wouldn’t happen again because he wouldn’t let it. Even though he regretted hurting her feelings, he’d meant everything he’d said.
He wondered if Hope had meant what she’d said. That part about him being a sad and sorry cowboy had almost sounded like a threat. Jake laughed and shook his head.
“Yeah, right. I’m shakin’ in my boots. What could she possibly do to me?”
Not a blessed thing. And with any luck, by this time next week, she’d go back to L.A. She’d be off the Flying M and out of his life, and he’d finally get a little peace and quiet. After all the craziness of the past twelve weeks, surely that wasn’t too much to ask for.
Chapter Two
Still fuming at dawn the next morning, Hope loaded her luggage into the rental car and wedged a thank-you note under the back door of the Flying M’s main house. She hated to leave like a thief in the night, but if she ran into Jake, she feared she would hit him. She’d mentally replayed their argument again and again during the night and couldn’t believe he’d actually said some of those things to her.
Flaky little California floozy, indeed.
Taking one last look around the ranch yard, she got into her car and drove down the long, winding lane. She turned right onto the graveled county road, intending to say goodbye to her good friend George Pierson at the Double Circle Ranch. Three miles later she rounded a familiar curve.
On impulse, she pulled over and parked the car. She got out, put her hands on her hips and slowly turned in a complete circle. Yes, this was the right spot.
No matter which way she faced, the scenery was breathtaking. Soaring, snow-capped mountains to the west, and to the north, south and east, the green of irrigated hay meadows, the long, tidy rows of fences and power lines beside the dusty road, the endless blue sky without even a wisp of a cloud in sight.
It was so quiet. So peaceful. So private.
There was room to breathe here. Really breathe. And there was a timelessness to this land that was evident in the rock outcroppings and gullies, in the subtle, shifting colors that stretched out to a horizon that went on forever. Nothing ever changed much in this country.
No wonder Jake and his family worked so hard to keep their piece of it.
What would it be like to belong here? To have a place of her own with some reasonable expectation of permanence? Where people stayed and businesses survived beyond the latest trends in entertainment, fashion and food.
She turned around again, shading her eyes with one hand as she looked her fill of this incredible landscape. Her chest ached with the beauty of it. With the longing somehow to be a part of it. With something close to grief at the prospect of leaving it.
But leave it, she must.
Heaving a deep, regretful sigh, she slid back into her car and drove the rest of the way to George’s place. His gangly, rambunctious pup galloped out to greet her when she parked at the back door. A semi-ugly mixture of several large breeds, the dog’s name was Doofus. Unfortunately, the name seemed to fit the animal quite well, but at least he was friendly.
Hope scratched his ears for a moment, then climbed the steps and waited for George to answer her knock. If his arthritis was acting up, it could take him a few minutes to get there. Somewhere around ninety and still blessed with an excellent memory, George had been telling her about the history of the area for the next book she wanted to write next.
He was cantankerous, blunt, meddlesome, nosy, opinionated and terribly prone to gossip. The juicier the better. Hope adored him.
George had outlived his friends, chased off most of his neighbors and infuriated his relatives to the point they barely tolerated him. But, to Sunshine Gap’s surprise, crusty old George Pierson appeared to adore Hope right back.
Opening the door, he looked out, his rheumy gray eyes alight with pleasure when he recognized her. He wore faded baggy jeans held up with orange suspenders, a yellow Western shirt and a ratty pair of brown leather slippers.
“Well, well, look who’s here,” he said. “Didn’t think you’d be out of bed much before noon after that shindig yesterday. Why’s your hair black?”
“Because I’m in a black mood, George.” Hope leaned inside and kissed his wrinkled cheek. “May I come in?”
“Well, I reckon I can spare a few minutes, but you’ll have to make your own coffee.”
Though he had few visitors, George always acted as if spending a few minutes of his valuable time with her was a huge favor. Hiding a smile, Hope followed his thumping cane through the gloomy old house to the kitchen. He also claimed arthritis prevented him from doing much beyond the bare necessities for his survival, but Hope suspected he was malingering in order to get attention. He could be amazingly spry when he chose.
She gladly played along with him, filling his ancient percolator with cold water, adding the coffee and setting it on the stove. Turning around one of the straight-backed wooden chairs at the table, she straddled it, facing George’s rocker.
Once they both were seated, he smiled, showing off chewing-tobacco-stained teeth. “What do you want to know this time?”
“Actually, I’ve come to say goodbye.”
“What?” Rocking forward so hard his rocker squeaked in protest, George frowned at her, his bushy white eyebrows jutting out from his face. “You said you were stayin’ until you finished your book.”
“That’s what I’d planned,” Hope agreed, touched by how upset he was about her news. Other than Blair, she’d had few people in her life who cared if she stayed or left. “But sometimes plans have to change.”
“Why? What the hell’s happened?”
Hope tried to smile at him, but found herself surprisingly near tears instead. Jake wasn’t the only one she’d grown fond of in Sunshine Gap. She would miss this old man, the other McBrides, her dear friend, Emma, who had married Jake’s brother Cal. Hope wasn’t ready to leave any of them. But after that scene with Jake…
“Aw, jeez, don’t start blubberin’,” George grumbled, shifting restlessly in his chair. “Never could stand a blubberin’ woman.”
“Oh, get over it,” Hope grumbled back at him. “I’ll blubber if I want to. You won’t melt.”
Slapping his knee, the old man let out a cackle of laughter. “You’re somethin’ else, gal. Go ahead and bawl your head off if it makes you feel better.”
She uttered a shaky laugh and wiped her eyes with her fingertips. “No, I’m okay now.”
He put the chair in motion, filling the room with soft creaking sounds. “Tell me what brought this on.”
Hope related an abbreviated version of what had happened at the wedding reception. With a few adroit questions, George dragged the rest of the story out of her. He kept rocking for several moments after she’d finished, his expression thoughtful. “You don’t have to go back to California.”
“Yes, I do. I can’t stay at the Flying M now.”
“You want Jake to think he can run you off that easy?”
“No, but there’s not even a decent motel in Sunshine Gap.”
“So find some other place to stay. Hell, stay here.”
“I couldn’t impose on you.”
“I invited ya, didn’t I?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“But nothin’. You wouldn’t be imposin’. This old house is so big, I rattle around in it all by myself. We could go for a week and not even see each other.”
“It’s not that big, George,” Hope said with a chuckle.
“Long as you don’t blubber all the time, I reckon we can get along well enough.” George’s expression turned shrewd. “Maybe we could even help each other out.”
The old man was up to something, but what? In spite of her better judgment, Hope asked, “How?”
“You love livin’ here. Around Sunshine Gap, I mean.”
She hesitated, then slowly nodded. “Something here calls to me. I don’t know quite what it is, but everything’s just so…real here. I don’t know if it’s the land or the people.”
“Could be the lack of people,” he suggested. “Must be mighty nice to drive down a road that ain’t all clogged up with traffic.”
“That’s true.” She smiled at him. “But it’s more than that. When I’m in Wyoming, I feel as if…as if I’m home. I can think here. And see life more clearly. I know I’ve done some of my best writing here.”
“Then why don’t you buy this place?”
Hope felt her mouth fall open and knew she was gaping at him. “The Double Circle?”
“It’s the only ranch I own. I won’t even try to rip you off ’cause you’re rich. All I want’s the fair market value.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Why the hell not? I’m ninety-one years old, gal. When I croak, somebody’s gonna buy it. Might as well be you.”
“But I’m a writer. I don’t know anything about ranching.”
“That’s the beauty of my idea. I got a couple of conditions before I agree to this sale.”
“Conditions?” She might’ve known. There were always conditions, and they often were unacceptable.
Scowling, he shook his head at her as if she were trying his patience. “Hear me out before you get your drawers in a knot. First condition is, I can keep my room in this house as long as I want it. I ain’t afraid of dyin’, but I am afraid of bein’ helpless. If I get to where I need a nurse to take care of me, I’d like to have somebody I trust here to keep an eye on things. Make sure I’m treated right, ya know?”
Hope blinked at the sudden vulnerability in George’s wrinkled face. Having been raised by servants, she knew exactly how it felt to be dependent on people who weren’t always kind. But she didn’t dare show any emotion he might interpret as pity. “Of course,” she said in a businesslike tone. “What are the other conditions?”
“There’s just one. If you ever decide to sell this place, I want your word you won’t sell it to some developer who’ll cut it up into five-acre lots. That’s what my idiot nephew’ll do if he ever gets his hands on the Double Circle. Kid never was worth the bullet it’d take to shoot him.”
“I could live with your conditions, but I still don’t know anything about running a ranch. From what I’ve seen, it involves a great deal of hard work.”
“That it does, but I can teach you what you need to know, and you can always hire whatever help you need. Shoot, my hand Scott pretty much runs this place on his own.”
“But doesn’t Jake want the Double Circle?”
George grinned. “Yup. Jake’s wanted this ranch for years. Made me some nice offers and he helps me out when I need somebody to check up on Scott.”
“Then why don’t you sell it to him?”
