Nothing But Cowboy Page 15

  She already knew Keller could be hard. That he was productive. That he was, in his way, a leader. And given what she knew about what he’d done with his life, how he’d stepped up when his father had been killed, there was no doubting his courage. That he was attractive…no, make that sexy as hell, that was just gravy.

  Gravy on a dish you have no intention of sampling.

  The self-warning sounded very stern, even in her head. She tried to focus on looking around instead.

  She had been a lot of places, more than most people she knew or knew of. That much of it hadn’t been by choice hadn’t stopped her from being awestruck by some of the places she’d seen. But that pleasure had ever and always been tempered by the fact that they never stayed. No matter how much she liked a place, they never stayed. Because what she liked hadn’t mattered. Ever.

  “You dislike it that much?”

  Startled, she looked at him. “What?”

  He gestured ahead of them, at the rolling hills punctuated by outcroppings of stone. “This.”

  “I…no. It’s not that at all.” She smiled. “It’s actually quite beautiful. I see why you love it.”

  “I do,” he said, and there was a touch of fervency in his voice she found appealing.

  Face it, you find a lot about him appealing.

  “I was just…” she began, but stopped.

  “Just what?”

  She sighed. “Feeling sorry for myself. Because I’ve never felt that kind of hold, the kind this place has on you.”

  “Maybe you’ve never stayed long enough for anyplace to get a grip,” he said.

  “As a child, I was never allowed to,” she said quietly. “And now…even if I want to, I don’t know how.”

  He reined in the bluish horse, who shook his head slightly in apparent protest at the command. She gently reined in the paint in turn, who stopped politely. Keller was looking at her, almost staring, and something in his eyes unsettled her yet again.

  “I didn’t say that to make you feel sorry for me, too,” she said quickly. “I just…was trying to explain. Why I’ve never felt the way you obviously do about this place.”

  “Where’s home now?”

  “I have a condo in LA, a small flat in London, and a place in Australia.”

  He lifted the reins, and they started off again. “That’s an answer, but not exactly to what I asked.”

  “If you mean where do I spend the most time, it has been LA lately.”

  “No, I meant what do you consider home?”

  She sighed again. “I have the place in Australia because I was born there, London because it’s a base for my travels, and LA because I’m a citizen of the US and I want to maintain a presence here.”

  For another long moment he just looked at her. Then he said, as softly as she had spoken before, “You really don’t know what ‘home’ means, do you.”

  “I want to learn. And I want Lucas to have it, too.”

  “He does.”

  She couldn’t deny that. “I…didn’t know you’d planned to adopt him.”

  “Neither does he, so let’s not bring that up in front of him.” There was no missing the warning in his voice. “If you’re planning on dragging him around the world with you—”

  “No, of course not. Do you think I want him to have the life I had?”

  “Then you’re going to settle down somewhere? You don’t even know how.”

  She couldn’t deny that. But she’d done harder things, much harder. Surely she could do this. But a little doubt began to niggle at her. Maybe she really hadn’t thought this through. Not enough, anyway. Or not in specifics.

  That’s what, now how about where and how?

  Keller’s chilly words echoed in her head. And she realized she’d been looking at this through an emotional lens, when she needed to look at it more through a…logistical lens. She’d built a worldwide company, so coming up with a plan should be a snap. It was the emotion that had derailed her usually logical brain.

  She pondered this as they rode on, until at a spot where the faint trail divided—one path going downward, the other staying at the level they were at now—he headed right.

  “Watch out for the prickly pear,” he said, pointing slightly up ahead.

  She looked, saw the thick stand of the familiar cactus. “Aptly named, isn’t it? Do you know that in Malta they make a liqueur from the fruit? It tastes sort of like a honeydew melon.”

  “Malta? As in the isle of, the knights of, the Malta Conference, and the Malta Summit?”

  She smiled. “Exactly.”

  “What were you doing there?”

  “Meeting with a weaver who turns out some of the most magnificent tapestries I’ve ever seen, and I’m including museums in that.”

  “You really do find things everywhere, don’t you?”

  “Talent knows—”

  “—no borders.” At her look when he finished the slogan he shrugged. “Yeah, I’ve looked at your website. Very…global of you.”

  She shrugged back at him. “It’s the kind of message that appeals. It also happens to be true. Of talent, anyway. Some other things, not so much. Or shouldn’t be.”

  He gave her a wry smile. “There are some imports I could do without.”

  “Me, too.” She was grinning now. She couldn’t help it. “Funny thing is, the things people feel that way about are often similar, no matter where you are.”

  He studied her for a moment. Then, quietly, he said, “You’ve had a mind-boggling life.”

  She let out a short breath. “The difference is, you’ve never longed for my kind of life, and I’ve always longed for yours.”

  Something flashed in his eyes then, something that made the rich green even more vivid for a moment. But then, as if he’d physically tamped it down, he said not quite dismissively, “You’d be bored within a week with life here.”

  Not if you were in it.

  For an instant she was terrified she’d said it out loud. But he didn’t react, there was no change in his expression, and she knew she hadn’t. Thankfully. The last thing she needed messing this up was telling him how attracted she was to him. She didn’t even want to admit that to herself.

  “I’m not bored yet,” she said carefully. “This is a fascinating place. The history of Last Stand, of Texas in fact, rivals any I’ve encountered. It’s just more recent.”

  “You want Texas history, you need to talk to my mother. She’s got it down.”

  So perhaps that was where his affinity for history had come from. “I’d like to. I want to understand what it is about this place that makes it so different.”

  And she meant it, despite the fact that the idea of dealing with Maggie Rafferty was intimidating. Odd, since she’d walked into situations around the world that should, by rights, be more intimidating, and she hadn’t felt this way.

  But the rest of my life didn’t depend on that one encounter.

  She didn’t want this to devolve into some kind of legal hassle, once her claim to the relationship was confirmed. She didn’t want—and wouldn’t—put poor Lucas in the middle of something like that.

  Something caught the upper edge of her vision and she looked up. A large bird was circling above. Wings outstretched and steady, just sailing.

  “Red-tailed hawk,” Keller said.

  She could see why it had that name, since with the sun shining above it, the big bird’s tail did look red compared to its body. “Are they local, too?”

  “If most of the Americas are local to you, then yeah.”

  “Looking for lunch?”

  “They can, but don’t usually hunt from the air. They’re more the sit up high and watch and wait for lunch to be served type.”

  She laughed. He gave her a look as if she’d surprised him.

  When he brought his horse to a stop and dismounted, she gathered they’d reached the spot he’d picked. As she slid off the gentle paint herself, she could see why; it was high enough that the vista of
the rolling hills seemed endless. In the distance off to the right was what looked like a small house or cabin with some outbuildings and a lot of fencing. Straight ahead she could see the glint of sunlight on water. The hawk still circled overhead, as if simply enjoying the view just as she was.

  “A few of them are hanging on,” Keller murmured, and she looked at him curiously. He pointed almost behind them. She turned and saw, tucked in the shelter of the small gap between the hillside and a stone shelf, in the shade of what looked like an oak tree, a small but brilliant cluster of bright, vivid blue flowers. And she knew these had to be the famous Texas bluebonnets.

  “They’re beautiful!”

  “They’re mostly gone by now, but in April, they’re all you can see for miles.”

  “That must be amazing. Is it like that every year?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “I’m trying to picture it, but…”

  He seemed to hesitate for a moment, then reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He tapped the screen a couple of times, then held it out to her. It was a picture obviously taken from this same spot, except the hills were indeed covered with an explosive carpet of these same blue flowers. It changed everything, and not just her perception of this place. Because the fact that this tough, stubborn cowboy had taken a photo of a profusion of flowers moved her in a way she’d rarely felt.

  “What a welcome to spring,” she said.

  “It’s kind of our billboard announcing winter’s really over.”

  She laughed again. She could really get to like this Keller Rafferty—the one who joked, even smiled, and said things in ways that made her laugh.

  She could get to like him a lot. Maybe too much.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Keller was surprised when she wanted to stay awhile. She sat down on a large stone that had crumbled from the outcropping next to the sheltered patch of flowers. She didn’t seem inclined to talk, but he knew she was thinking. He wasn’t sure which was better, in her case. Most of the time, with most women, he’d have gone with preferring the silence, but with an agile mind like hers, he wasn’t sure the thinking wasn’t more dangerous.

  Dangerous?

  To Lucas, of course. That’s all the thought meant.

  The moment the boy popped into his mind she said, reaching out to stroke one of the lingering blossoms in a way that made the day seem suddenly warmer, “Did you bring Lucas out here to see the bluebonnets, when they were at full strength?”

  “Yes,” he said, and stopped there, because it hadn’t been the most pleasant experience. But she seemed to pick up, as she so often did, on something in his voice, even in the single, short word. Her gaze shifted back to his face.

  “What happened?”

  He didn’t have the words to describe Lucas’s reaction, wouldn’t embarrass the kid by speaking them even if he had them, so he said only, “They were his mother’s favorite flower.”

  “Oh. Difficult, then.”

  “Very.”

  A pause, and obviously more thinking before she asked, “How long has he been here?”

  “Six months. Since right before Thanksgiving.”

  “Was that…hard for him, too? The holiday?”

  His first thought was that that was a stupid question. But then he remembered her own story, her parents, and decided maybe it wasn’t stupid, but more sad that she had to ask. “The first big holiday without his folks? Yeah.” He grimaced. “But at least he wasn’t sitting at the same table as always, looking at their empty chairs.”

  She stared at him for a moment before saying softly, “Like you had to?”

  He went still. Yes, the thinking part was much more dangerous. “It sucks either way,” he said bluntly.

  “I can only imagine,” she said.

  Keller realized that in her case, the words weren’t just a turn of phrase, they were the literal truth. And although he knew she hadn’t meant it to be, it was one of the saddest things he’d ever heard anyone say.

  He supposed it was that that made him say, on impulse, “We’re taking Lucas to Kerrville tomorrow.”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “It’s about forty miles west of here.”

  Perhaps the idea he’d had wasn’t wise, could be a mistake, but he was going to go with his gut on this one. Besides, it was already going to be so awful for Lucas he doubted it would make any difference to him, if he didn’t know who she was. Or claimed to be, he amended. And ignored for now the thought that it was getting harder and harder to remember that disclaimer. Because he was finding it nearly impossible to believe that that DNA test would come back anything other than a positive verification of the genetic link.

  “Kerrville is where they were…” she began.

  “Yes. They’re buried there. And this week…it’s been a year.”

  “That’s…nice. That you thought of doing that.”

  “I didn’t. Mom did. She took us to Dad’s grave every year. She didn’t want us to ever forget him.”

  “Wasn’t that painful? I mean, I can see how much he meant to all of you.” She sounded merely curious. And he was reminded again that she had little experience with the kind of love that caused that kind of pain.

  “It got better when we switched to going on his birthday,” he said. Then, before he could be diverted or change his mind, he plunged ahead. “Maybe, if Mom’s okay with it, you should go with us.”

  Her eyes widened. “With Lucas?”

  “He’s the point of it.”

  He saw her swallow, and he knew she’d never expected the offer. Hell, he hadn’t expected to make it. And hoped fervently he didn’t regret it.

  “You’re all going?”

  “Yes. Mom’s orders.”

  “And her orders get followed?” He got the feeling she was grasping at distraction; he truly had blindsided her. He wasn’t sure if that made him feel good or bad.

  “She runs a tight ship.” He smiled then. “Even Lucas gets that. He says the first time she gave him an order was the first time he felt like he really belonged here.”

  “Maybe it was the first time he saw that she thought he was going to be all right.”

  Keller blinked. His brow furrowed. “I never thought about it like that, but you may be right. Up until then, we pretty much treated him with kid gloves. Well, except for the smoking.”

  She drew back slightly. “Smoking? He was smoking?”

  He nodded. “Just testing for limits, I think. I caught him out behind the main barn.”

  First thing that happens if you’re staying is, that stops.

  Gonna give me the cancer lecture?

  No. If you don’t give a damn about your lungs, so be it. But I give a big damn about my horses.

  He described that exchange to her, and was interested when her first question was, “Did he get it?”

  “After I pointed out that cigarettes around a barn isn’t just stupid, it’s dangerous. To them. And how would he feel if Latte here—he’d started to learn to ride on him—burned to death because of him.”

  “And I’m sure it worked. Because he knows what death is.”

  He grimaced. “I didn’t think about that part at the time. I was pretty mad.”

  “Understandable. When we take animals into our lives, especially into our service, we owe them safety in return.”

  She might not have ever had loving parents, but somewhere she had learned. And he felt better about making the rather rash offer.

  Which she still hadn’t given him an answer to.

  “I would have thought, given why you say you’re here, you’d have jumped at this. It’s what you wanted, isn’t it? To meet Lucas, even before the DNA test comes back?”

  “Yes,” she said, and there was an undertone in her voice he’d never heard from her before. It took him a moment to recognize it as fear, which surprised him, given how bold and confident she seemed.

  But what surprised him even more was his reaction to it; he didn’t mu
ch like the idea of her being afraid.

  “But?” he prodded.

  She let out a long sigh. “I have met complete strangers in wild places where I did not know their customs or even their language, and it didn’t scare me this much.”

  She really was afraid. With every place she’d been and everything she’d done, she was afraid. He was a little surprised she’d admitted it in so many words.

  “What scares you?”

  She met his gaze then, and he saw worry in her amber eyes. “What if he doesn’t like me?”

  It was such a basic, emotional question, delivered in such a heartfelt way, that for a moment he couldn’t answer. He hated conversations like this. Especially when he hadn’t expected it; he’d thought she would simply jump at the opportunity she wanted so much.

  After a moment spent discarding possible answers, he finally said honestly, “I don’t think that’ll be an issue tomorrow. You’ll be the last thing he’ll be thinking about.”

  She brightened at that. He wondered how many women would cheer up at an assessment that they wouldn’t matter to someone.

  Only one who truly meant what she’d said.

  “All right,” she finally said. “Maybe, later when he knows who I am, he’ll understand not telling him right away was for the best.”

  He nodded, but reminded her warningly, “We’ve still got to convince my mother it’s a good idea.”

  “We will,” she said confidently.

  Keller lectured himself all the way back to the house that it was beyond stupid to like the way she said that “we” so much.

  And ruefully admitting he’d been the one to say it first.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “That boy could have been ranked the best calf roper in the country,” Maggie Rafferty said as she watched her eldest son take the debris from the quick lunch they’d had into the kitchen—including the jar of horseradish Keller had used on his roast beef sandwich that had made her eyes water the moment he’d opened it, even from across the table.

  Sydney didn’t know a lot about American rodeo, but she knew what a big deal it was, especially here in Texas. She glanced at Keller, who was loading dishes into the dishwasher, then back at the woman across the table. “Does he still regret it?”